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...       

His Name was Air Ice

I was somewhere on the side of a hill in a dry desert chaparral area when I saw a large dust devil or small tornado.  I became fascinated.  Logically, I knew it was big enough to be potentially dangerous, but I approached anyway, slowly and cautiously.  As I approached, the spinning action seemed to intensify until it really did look like a small but intense tornado, maybe 3 feet across.  I felt fear but still I did not run.

After a short while of watching, the tornado straightened and stayed in one place and I continued to stare at it, fascinated, wondering which direction it would lead next.  I wanted to investigate it but not actually get run over by it.  But how to predict a tornado!

I continued to watch, and as it stayed in one place, very straight and powerful now, I had a strange and illogical feeling that it was actually watching me too!  The feeling intensified and eventually I allowed that the tornado might be sentient in some way and it seemed that it was also curious.  It had a powerful intensity of watchfulness to it.   

Then the tornado disappeared and in its place was a very handsome man.  I knew the man was another manifestation of the tornado, but still I could not help but appreciate the appearance of the man.  He was about 5'10" white, medium build, well muscled, about 23, with strange fine white medium length (for a man) hair and a relaxed confident air.  Except for his hair and extreme handsomeness, he looked very normal.  He wore jeans with a leather belt and no shirt, as he stood calmly and observed me.  I had the sudden idea that his name was "Air Ice," which seemed a very cool and profound name at the time.

He was very handsome but I knew he was also the tornado and still felt some threat from him.  On his side, I felt he wanted to convey to me that he was still a threat and would attack me.  I tried to maintain confidence and think of ways to defend myself, although I could think of nothing in particular.  Soon his attack came and it was like something was wrapping around my legs.  Planning to fight my way out, I looked down and his legs were wrapping around my legs as if they were snakes.  I planned to pull them off but Air Ice made it known that his legs were infinitely stretchy and long and could not be defeated.  I glared at him and this time I saw that while his body position was still the same, his legs were actually missing as they were instead now attacking me instead of being under him.  Only his upper body 'stood' there now looking calmly at me, apparently not need the legs for actual support, but instead just hanging there in midair.  I stopped fighting the sinuous legs knowing he spoke the truth, that they could not be fought.  For whatever reason, I believed what he said, but at the same time somehow I maintained illogical confidence that I would win anyway, even though I did not know how.  I was defiant.

Then his attack stopped, his 'legs' returned to the rest of his body, and the sense of threat from him stopped.  We talked as friendly acquaintances a little bit about a few things, but I can't remember what now.  But I do not have the feeling it was about anything super exciting.  Then he left and as he was walking away, I got the sudden feeling/insight that he was a guide.

Perhaps the main lesson here was to have confidence in your success even if you can't yet see how you will accomplish it.    

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!

Dream Lover

Around us is a dorm like environment. We are sitting in this room chatting about this and that. Suddenly, he reaches his hand across to me and begins stroking the bare skin on my outer forearm with the backs of his knuckles. I am surprised because I had not perceived our talk as having been flirtatious. But I decide I like the feeling of his touch and so do not protest. I am in the middle of making a point when he starts and the touch makes me lose my train of thought and stumble in my words, but then I concentrate and continue talking as he continues to stroke my arm.

Later I must have fallen asleep on this small bed or couch. He has snuggled down near my knees in front of me with his back to me and I find this pleasant. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, I flick the end of my blanket so as to cover him better and then I look at his face. He has a slightly long and hooked nose and slight jutting chin with thick black hair, strong eyebrows and bright brown eyes, a European reasonably handsome look, different from my usual type but still quite acceptable. Then I go back to sleep.

I dream that two people are standing above me talking about asthma. One is male and one is female. The table I lay on is like an operating room table of sorts and they stand above me while they work. There are complex instruments set up around my body and the conversation between the two doctors has turned almost angry as they disagree on treatment theories. I remember the woman snapped at the man, "Well you can't even GET any data unless you choose a medication and administer it in the first place!" She seemed to be responding to some kind of statements on his part about the downsides of medications.

A short while later, I wake up slightly and I feel the man sleeping near me also stir from his sleep and slowly withdraw his hand from between my hands as if in an attempt not to disturb me. I had not realized I had taken his hand but now that he is pulling it out, I realize I must have. I do not move and pretend to still be asleep but in my mind I worry. Did I go too fast? Has he changed his mind? But then I tell myself my behavior was a reasonable response to his and so I can not blame myself.

He has withdrawn his hand now and I can feel a jostling as he moves on the bed. Is he trying to sneak off? I hope not and wait to see what he will do next. I hope that he is not leaving.

Then I remember I am in my room in California and the jostling stops and I realize the man must leave because he was never there in the first place. He is gone. I am alone in my bed just as I was when I went to sleep the night before. Or was it me that left him? It's hard to sort out my emotions. I miss the nameless man of the dream. Usually, I do not see faces in my dreams but even now, his face is still clear in my mind. I will have to remember this dream for the blog..

(PS, yes I do have asthma in my waking life)

Old Lady and Young Man

I shuffle around some chairs and a large rectangular wood dining room table. It's cramped in here, a small room full of big furniture and porcelain nicknacks and figurines. I approach the wall and look at myself critically in the mirror. I have a giant goiter on my neck. I am always surprised when I see how big it is, but somehow it doesn't seem to cause any problems other than its gruesome appearance. I wonder for the nth time why it has to be me that is afflicted with it.

I am an old lady with frizzy grey hair, a slightly hunched back, and am wearing a medium long white flowered dress and heavy cloth apron. My hair is pinned back, but some of the frizz in the front always escapes. I am too old to have much concern about my looks, but still I would feel a lot better if I could somehow get rid of that giant goiter. It is so big and ugly, there is no way to hide it, not with clothes nor with strategically placed hair, so much so that I have completely given up trying. I have learned to live with it and although I often wish it would one day miraculously go away, I don't hold out much hope that it actually will.

Later in the day, I am moving around the tiny kitchen with old yellowed linoleum that is curling up in the corners of the room. My young nephew is coming over. I can't wait to see him. I am cooking him a nice dinner to make him happy. His visit will be the highlight of my day.

[My viewpoint shifts to third party observer]

The doorbell rings and she answers it. In the doorway stands a tall hunched over young male with a baggy overcoat and a bad attitude. His hunched posture is not from physical problems but from lack of desire to be there. His face is average, neither handsome nor ugly, a bit of extra flesh around the mouth highlighting a sour downturned mouth. This man rarely smiles. He considers this lady to be old fashioned and impossibly clueless. She doesn't listen to him and she doesn't understand him. She lives in her own world which has nothing to do with reality or what he thinks is important. She disgusts him, the sight of that hideous goiter most of all, and he can't wait to get this visit over with and leave. Meanwhile, he will be sullen and unappreciative until he finally has an excuse to escape.

She on the other hand is happy he is there. She walks around elated to be able to serve him. After some time, she eventually notices that he is not talking much and seems unhappy. She works hard to be cheery so he will feel better. No matter how disrespectful and rude he becomes, she will never realize that he does not like her. Such ideas do not exist in her world. She will always have a list of excuses for him that make perfect sense in her fantasy world, and every time she breaks further from reality, his disdain for her will only grow. What she needs to do is see him for what he is, tell him straight, yell in his face, set limits and enforce them. Only then will he respect her. But she never will.