Showing posts with label black. Show all posts
Showing posts with label black. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

The Real World

I woke up and saw rain on the window.  It was raining hard. I got up and looked out.  Behind the smudged window was a wide dirt road, wide enough for a 3 lane highway.  How did I get here?  The last thing I remembered was going to sleep in my bed, now I am here on this dirt road?  Cool!  It must be a lucid dream but yet it felt so real!  I was parked on the side of the road in this car I had been sleeping in.  I wondered if I was now stuck in the mud with all this rain.  I got out of the car to look around.  To the left, the road forked and there was another road about half the size of the main road.  Both roads were flat behind me but then suddenly angled steeply upward in front.  I wondered if the rain and mud would make that steep angle troublesome.  Right where the main road began to ascend, there was a big puddle of water and several cars splashed through it on their way down.  None of them got stuck.  I saw no plants or animals around, where was I?  I took a closer look at the vehicles driving by and realized they all looked old style, like Model T Fords and those kinds of very old vehicles.  I decided to get back into my car and get my keys out and lock it so I could look around, but as I did that, I could feel my consciousness changing. I was pulled back and woke up.

I was in a room.  In front of me was a tall lanky young African American man in casual clothes lounging on a couch joking with me.  His hair was starting to grow out, perhaps in a dreadlock style.  Behind the couch was a large smudged window.  I was standing in the room on an old musty brown carpet.  My head felt weird. I probed my head with my hands and it was covered with thick wooly feeling hair.  The texture felt strange and the feeling was like the hair was clinging to my head.  I wondered if I was African American too.  What was I doing here?  Then I woke up.

In front of me was a rain smudged window.  I heard a loud clicking noise.   A bird was repeatedly flying up and slamming it's claws against the window.  Ah yeah, the bird, it does that sometimes.  I jumped up, grabbed a piece of paper and waved it at the bird, chasing it off.  I was now on my feet, but disoriented.  But this was the real world this time.  I think...       

Sunday, March 28, 2010

How Not to Get Sleep

I've been so tired this last week or more. I am trying to get more sleep, but the sleep has not been fulfilling. Last night, I decided to go to bed very early in hopes of breaking the cycle and catching up on some sleep, but instead, I ended up just laying there bored. As tired as I was, sleep would just not come. And my body felt hot and sticky, even though the air was cold. I have learned from experience that when my body feels hot for no good reason, sleep will never come. So finally, I got up again and read a book for another hour and a half until my body began to feel the cold air again.

I slept for maybe an hour before waking to feel a nagging energy moving along my spine. Sometimes, energy there feels good but other times, like last night, it just feels irritating and exhausting. I lay awake for another half hour and then tried something that sometimes works. I don't know why, but sometimes if I turn around in the bed so my feet and head have reversed position, then I can get some sleep.

It worked for a while. I slept for another hour, until I heard a beep beep beep noise coming from the storage room that shares a door with my bedroom. My mother had piled all manner of storage items on shelves in that room and for the last month, something occasionally omitted beeping noises from there late at night. The beeping was short lived and always occurs late at night when I was sleeping, and each time, by the time I raced in there to find the noisemaker, the sound had already shut off before I could decipher what was making it. But over time, I had at least narrowed it down to a general location and this night, I raced into the room with renewed determination. And at long last I found it! Tucked into a corner behind some spray cans was a tiny portable battery operated alarm clock that was no bigger than the size of a large thumb. Victory! I had located the late night noise maker. I turned the alarm option to 'off' and waltzed back into my room plenty pleased to have finally solved that problem. Finally, I would get some sleep!

Then I lay for another half hour bored but no sleep. I almost decided to try my most desperate strategy, which is to lay on the hard floor. For some reason, which I fathom not, when I feel hot for no good reason and cannot sleep, I have found that if I lay on the hard floor for about 30 minutes, I can usually sleep after that. But who wants to lay on a hard floor for 30 minutes! Not me, that is for sure. And luckily, I finally drifted off before having to exercise that option.

Except that several hours later, I was suddenly jarred awake when my right hand and arm, apparently for no good reason, shot out from under the covers and clutched at the air violently, as if to catch an invisible fly or something. I didn't even know that my arm could move that fast! And why had I done that? I was not aware of having been dreaming and I am very good at remembering recent dreams. Now I was somewhat unnerved by the apparently illogical and alien actions of my own hand. In fact, I had clenched my hand so roughly and quickly that the ring finger nail had gouged itself into the flesh on the outside of my thumb, and now as I lay there not sleeping and feeling a bit freaked out, I could feel the top of the thumb throbbing from where I had gouged myself.

But by this time, I was oh so very tired and despite the weirdness, I managed to drift off again. I dreamt about a place where 10 foot tall brown plywood walls had been erected all around for the sole purpose of displaying artworks. The walls had been set up as if to form roads and allyways, but all the traffic was foot traffic and there was plenty of it! This was a culteral meeting place where many people would walk and discuss the art that had been given by volunteers. Theft was not an issue and neither was money. Surely, this must have been in another kind of world, but all the people looked human and I felt that this was a place I had visited countless times before. Ironically, I was not much interested in the art itself, but I loved the place for it's happy ambiance and good memories. I dallied here for a while until, in a semiconscious state, I knew it would soon be time to wake up and go to work. But now I was so tired that I did not want to face waking up!

I considered other options. Maybe I could just open one eye for a while and work my way up to two eyes. I tried this and it seemed easier. I opened the one eye and saw through a small round aperature the sight of several people walking around in the front part of a store. This one eyed seeing seemed relaxing until a part of me realized that eyesight does not involve little round aperatures and my bedroom is not in a store. Therefore, I must not actually be seeing with my eyes!

I was starting to become lucid and determined to see more so I opened both my 'eyes' and watched as people came through the swinging glass doors of this place. First came several black guys in their 20s dressed in casual clothes. They were my homies and I was glad to see them but despite that, we all remained subdued in our greeting. Behind them came a powerful figure of a black woman, tall and trim and looking to be in her 40s. Her hair was set into some kind of ultra refined dreadlock type style like thin cords of hair, that balanced beautifully with her handsome face and high cheakbones. This was a powerful and stately woman both in appearance and in demeanor. SHe commanded respect and was accustomed to getting it. And by the stern look on her face, she was not happy with me.

I smiled tightly and followed them all to a long rectangular table where we all sat down. She began to lecture me about being irresponsible. She spoke of some trouble that "Tony" had gotten into and talked about how it related to me, and I heard myself respectfully saying "Yes Ma." I had been gone away from them for a while and had not told them before I left. Even now, I had told them very little of what I had been doing and most of this meeting would be about me telling her as little as possible. She was angry but as the night wore on, I expected she would loosen up. I would just have to listen and do my best until the mood lightened. Even now, I longed to make a joke about sweet and sour sauce that someone's comment had triggered, but I knew it was too soon. Joking now would only anger my mother, but hopefully later, we could turn to a lighter mood. Meanwhile, all of us would wait patiently.

A part of me that was still me and not the black man was listening and trying to take notes. I jumped on the name "Tony" and vowed to remember it, but much of the rest was gone moments after waking. And waking I did, this time for real, as that day's work still demanded my attention. I crawled out of bed and considered the nights fitful events. Wondering about the incident with the grabbing hand, I inspected the back of my right thumb and found the stabbing imprint still there and sore, so I knew the whole thing had not been a dream. I had really grabbed out into the air for some reason and I had really stabbed into my own thumb. But why? Now my eyes were blurred from grogginess and a light pain between my eyes would be slow to resolve itself. My thumb hurt and so did my shoulder, perhaps also from the violent flailing motion of the grab. Looks like it would be another day of tired exhaustion.

Maybe tomorrow I would get to bed early and catch up on some sleep!

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Through a Mirror Darkly

I look at myself posing in front of a long mirror, like the kind that are hung on the back of doors. I see a young skinny African American child, maybe 8 or 9 years of age, medium dark skin, hair kept short, naked except for boxer shorts and socks. I am short with small sinewy muscles typical of a child that age. I can't stand the sight of myself.

My body is weak and spindly, really an expected build for a child of that age, but in my mind, I am impossibly small and good for nothing, a complete failure, useless in every way. I wish with all my heart that I could be big and strong, tall and powerful with huge bulging muscles and chest. That way, I would be an important person in life, not this insignificant slug that is me. The emotions of longing and self loathing consume me so much I can't think.
 
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