Monday, April 26, 2010

The Day That Wasn't

Yesterday morning I helped a guy named Randy get to class. He goes to a special needs school up the street, so I walked him there. When I got home, it was dark. Michele asked where I'd been all day. I told her I was helping Randy get to school; I couldn't have been gone longer than half an hour.

But it was night. How could that be? It didn't make any sense. Did I go somewhere else and completely forget about it? Had the passage of time gone wonky? I thought about the walk to the school. On the way, I ran into the woman who used to live next door to me. I used to go to school with her daughter. These days she lives in Rockland and I live underneath where she used to live (her mother lived here when I was growing up.) Anyway, she was also walking someone to the school. He was her nephew. He was probably in his mid-twenties, had long hair and was in a wheelchair. His wheelchair had fallen over and we helped him get back into it. We might have talked for a while, but it certainly didn't take all day. Something didn't add up.

Then I started to wonder what my old neighbor was even doing there. If she moved, why would she be taking her nephew to the school right up the street from my house, and why didn't she drive there? And why had I never heard of this nephew until just now? Come to think of it, there's no special school up the street from me. And who the hell is Randy? That's when I knew it. I was dreaming.

Yes, anyone reading this knew it was a dream as soon as Randy showed up, but it all seems perfectly natural when you're actually dreaming them. My parent's dining room is in my old junior high school? Of course it is! People displaying human remains on their lawns? Why not?

It seems like it should happen more often, but realizing you are in a dream is a rare and beautiful thing. Lucid dreaming. My in-dream self thought I had uncovered a massive conspiracy, which may have had something to do with my watching an X-Files marathon on Netflix, but nonetheless I was convinced that the world was trapped in a dream state, and I was the only one conscious of it. I promised myself to write down as much of the dream as I could when I woke up, and in the meantime, just repeat the events that had happened so far over and over in my head.

Later, I was at Nick's house. He had a medieval passageway with a large fireplace as the centerpiece. On the fireplace was a bust of half a face. When you pulled it, another room came out of the wall. Wah Kee was there with us, and he told me something...I can't quite remember. But it was about the room and how something highly unprobable was about to happen. I remember Nick replying "He knows."

When I finally did awake from the dream, I asked Michele what time it was. Two O'clock. Damn. There's no way I was about to scribble all this down at two in the morning, so I just continued to keep as much of it as fresh in my mind as I could until a more reasonable hour. I slept for several hours after the dream, and was awake for several more before I wrote anything down. What was once a rich, vivid world was whittled down to a few vague memories and a game of fill-in-the-blanks.

Ironically, it's the later portion, after I figure out that it's a dream, that is the haziest, perhaps due to my persistence in remembering the earlier details so specifically. The whole part with Nick and Wah Kee is fractured at best, and I can't help but wonder if the parts that I do remember weren't tainted by the several hours of consciousness after the dream ended. I'm certain that Wah Kee was trying to amaze me by showing something that could only happen in a dream. I think it may have been the weird medieval room itself. And Nick's response meant that he knew I was aware of the dream. But that contradicts my earlier assertion that I was alone in the knowledge of the dream; of The Lie. So did my brain create false memories of Nick and Wah Kee being aware of the dream after it had ended, or were they agents of the dream, disguised as people I know for the purpose of containing me and separating me from the rest of the populace, lest I tell them the Truth? I guess it doesn't really matter, but I kind of feel like I let my dream-self down.

13 comments:

trinamick said...

I often try to keep my dream going after it wakes me up and I go back to sleep. Otherwise, I wake up in the morning with an unfinished feeling, as though the dream is continuing in some other reality that I've been ripped from. Of course, it could just be all the Fringe I've been watching. Or Alice in Wonderland.

I wish someone could tell me how a raven is like a writing desk.

Nan said...

I pulled out my dream book to interpret this one for you, but decided I wouldn't type everything, because I don't want to leave a long comment. The gist of it is: You're comfortable with a weak but private aspect of yourself. A past feeling or experience has relevance to your current situation. You're changing from one stage in life to another or in between something. There's someone or something that you've been neglecting.

Nan said...

By the way, I'm n518978914. I'm back and I'm glad you're writing again!

John said...

Holy crap, Trina's back! I was on fire in March, posting nearly every day, but it was pretty much just me and LL. I always imagine him horking into a spitoon after each comment. I say that lovingly.

Hi Nan! That's much easier to remember. Sometimes I can try and figure out what a dream means, or at least why I had it (something that happened that day, a conversation I had or a movie I watched) but most of the time, they're just completely weird.

Last night I had a dream that I was on a cruise, and Aerosmith was there and performed. They all walked by me on a staircase, except Steven Tyler, who was in a wheelchair. I'm not sure why I keep having dreams about people in wheelchairs...

LL said...

You really don't have any clue do you... you don't hork into spittoons anymore. You've got to clean a spittoon. Nah... anymore you spit into a "spit cup" or empty pop bottle. Although in college I saw some guys spit into a 2 liter bottle in hopes of eventually filling it up. The smell was something to be experienced, not described.

I rarely remember my dreams anymore. Perhaps I live in a dream and just haven't woken up yet...

John said...

Stop ruining my fantasy. I suppose next you'll tell me you don't wear bolo ties.

LL said...

Well...

mr. schprock said...

Only myself and one other person understand this: the alarm will go off waking me from a vivid dream. I hit the snooze button and, instead of getting out of bed, I jam my head back into my pillow in an effort to return to this dream because something vital and necessary is going on and it's not yet finished. Maybe I'm running groundbreaking lab experiments, or I'm facilitating a meeting of all the world's leaders while they dream too. For the good of us all, it's better I see the dream through and be late for work.

John said...

Do you have any more Joe stories to email me? I could do a regular segment called "Spot o' T's Cuppa Joe"

On an unrelated note, I just locked myself out of my house again. My parents have three sets of copies, but they're all in my house on top of the refrigerator.

NYPinTA said...

Damn it. I had a comment and my computer burped and it's gone.

I said I've never had a lucid dream... blah blah blah.

And something about Dream you, Wah Kee, and Nick all being up to something because you were in the cool evil mastermind hideout. Or something.

John said...

I really need to fix the comments section on this thing.

mr. schprock said...

Spot o' T's Cuppa Joe? I like the sound of that. Let's see what I can do.

John said...

Woo-hoo!

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