Dreams
the rupert river shoreline in waskaganish first nation, quebec
“Fifty thousand horses
Ten thousand sheep
I’d trade ‘em all
For just a second of sleep
The kind with dreams though
You gotta have dreams
I’ve heard about what happens
At the other extreme
Yeah without them dreams
You go insane
It’s like having mayonnaise
Shot into your brain”
-”Past Belief” by Dan Bern
Its Thursday morning and I slept in till 9:00 AM which is LATE for me.
I threw on last nights clothes and shuffled a block down the street to Dunkin Donuts.
I walked past a lady that was walking two steps and then clapping.
I think it was a guy in drag actually. She would walk. Stop.
Turn around. Yell something. Clap. Continue.
I went into the dunkin donuts and saw a man muttering to himself.
I walked out with my coffee and then sat on my stoop
and watched the carnival of souls parade by me like canterbury tales.
Old lady with a cane talking perfectly clear to her imaginary friend.
Contractor with tool belt on cell phone deflecting the early morning light with his free hand.
Two guys in workout suits chatting about America.
Girl with neon green bike and golden retriever.
And me on my stoop.
I didnt have the strength to join them ’cause there was a parade
of even more bizarre and confusing thoughts slamming against
the narrow and eroding shore of my consciousness and sanity.
Seems I couldn’t get my dreams out of my head. I had nightmares all night.
I never remember my dreams and they are never vivid.
But I had dreams of my dad last night.
I had dreams of the final three weeks of his life.
I remembered his thin frame and his vanishing spirit.
I watched him slip away you know..?
and change before my eyes. I watched him go
from fully aware to totally tuned out. I watched him go
from someone who loved life to someone who could not wait
to check out of this place because of his physical and mental suffering..and the cancer.
And my dreams were ugly. Every detail was amplified. Every line on his face
was exaggerated and every scream of pain
was louder than the whistle on a charging train chuggin at me on the tracks.
And I stood there in my dreams and watched it all.
The gore. the blood. the death. And it was awful. And I didnt wake up!
And my mind just vomited this stuff out all night and I finally awoke at 4 AM
and never made it back to sleep.
The first two hours I just sat on my bed and tried to think better thoughts
but the visions just kept marching in front of me.
In procession.
And whether its me drinkin coffee planted on my stoop
or whether I’m writhing while tethered to the railroad tracks of my dreams.
I must stand and watch and let it roll over me.
I must view my world in front of my eyes and I must confront the world inside.
And these dreams will linger. And right now it feels crazy.
And if I allow myself I will slip into self pity and go to my safe dark place
and tune this all out. But f*ck it. I’m going back outside.
and tonite I’m going back to sleep.
I will stand on the rocky shore in between
the sands of the present moment and the watery deep of infinite subconscious.
I will jump in and swim and jump out and sun my naked frame in the sun which heals.
I will use neither the rocks or the water to escape or avoid the other
but I will embrace them both.
But oh those dreams and crazy people.
-John
08.16.07
Matt says:
What sucks is that those dreams never go away, and sometimes they assault you during the day when you least expect it.
Damn I miss the dreams where I could fly!
August 22nd, 2007 at 3:48 pm