Monday, May 12, 2014

blueish-gray & nowhere to go

I dreamed a flying dream! I don't know how I managed to remember, having only had six hours of sleep (since going deep enough to stick the details usually involves the tail-end of a sleep marathon, 10 hours of solid, maybe 8). It's been so long. But the escapade stuck to my brain like a hundred dollar bill sticks to a well-worn shoe on a cruddy Brooklyn sidewalk.

That happened once actually. When within one week's time I found $100 in front of my favorite Chinese BBQ place, $40 on a Chelsea art walk and $5 on the way to the G on Metropolitan. Right in front of that diner that served a spectacular Thanksgiving plate year round. I swear I could eat stuffing with cranberry sauce once a week. And gravy'd potatoes. Sweet potato casserole with toasted marshmallows. My stomach's growling! New York was bribing me to stay after I lost a job. There were definitely connections that needed to be made in LA. But that's another story.

Back to the flying dream. This one was peculiar and a bit morbid. Somehow I got it in my mind--I could fly. Whether or not I knew I was dreaming, I'm not sure; but I knew I was doing something impossible. I was really trying to make it work! It always starts with a few slow jumps doesn't it? So I jumped, jumped, STUCK IN THE AIR and floated. Arms wobbling between light thoughts or sinking with doubt. When my toes touched ground I kicked off, going higher and higher each time, until I finally caught air and SAILED through the sky like some fucking badass.

At some point I was en route to a 'far off destination.' Can't remember where exactly, I'd like to think I was circling the globe like Superman trying to save Lois Lane from being buried alive in her car. But halfway through the journey I lost my confidence and started sinking closer and closer to the ground, until I was back to bouncing and hovering. Each bounce taking me ten feet vertically.

I bounced like that on a farm for a while before I realized I could no longer fly and I was stuck in the middle of freaking nowhere. Like a damn chicken. The abundant painted trees were a nice touch (if I do say so myself). Without those to frame the scene I might as well have been staring at the lines in a notebook, me as a doodle melting away at the first sign of rain.

The landscape was abandoned, with a wash of gloom as usual. A matte about-to-rain sky turning everything a hostile blueish-gray. I wasn't scared. But I was lonely. The only person in the world, stranded on a gloomy farm. No horses, crickets. Nothing.

Silence can scream louder than sirens in some parts of the mind. No earplugs in sight. Even a sense of panic would be nice in situations like this, since the magnified throbs of heartbeats could blast white noise at the horrendous curse of screaming silence. Lost. And then we wake and wonder where we've been. Hopefully not on some damn farm feeling too heavy to fly.


Blazintommyd said...


Anonymous said...

You have such wonderfully vivid dreams. :) Do you think the farm = L.A.?

Glacial Spain

steve d said...
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