I am on my bike again. Riding in the cold night. My destination currently unknown. Uphills, downhills, straight ahead, in the darkness.
I see a town approaching on my path. There are people everywhere as I start to pass through. The crowd seems to be in a drunken stupor, almost like sleepwalkers. I swerve in and out of the mass of people, fairly successfully, until midway through I see a woman. She stumbles, what seems almost deliberately, into my way, now teasing, inviting me to collide into her. I manage to avoid her with barely enough room to get around the rest of the people, slightly grazing her with my shoulder on passing. Though this was obviously her intended purpose, initiating conflict of some kind, she becomes furious that I have mostly avoided her and moving on. She yells in a pitiful drunken rage. She calls her partner over, who I hadn’t noticed before, as they both continue to call my name and spew obscenities.
I continue out of the town, coasting away from the drunken chaotic scene. I look back to see the couple in the far off distance, though they look different now. They now take the shape of 2 bearded men wearing black slacks, black t-shirts and black suit jackets. They start to follow me. These men look like bodyguards or perhaps the lackeys of an unknown third. Continuing at a distance behind me they drive along in a black SUV. I am riding at a faster pace now, not entirely frightened, but not eager to find out what it is that they want. They don’t seem to be speeding up either.
Almost to the summit of the hill I was climbing, I ride up to what appears to be my house. Though I have never seen its like before, I know it is mine. Apparently I am wealthy, as the home is quite expansive, gated off and even has its own security on staff. Lucky me. I inform the guards of the men following behind me and I continue into the grounds. I wander the monstrosity of a house for some time, noting the array of architectural styles used in what can be to no discernable functionality or even coherent design, almost as if this is what it looks like when an idea dreams. Perhaps the ideas of form, function and art. It is still oddly enough my house and none of it any more familiar than when I first arrived.
I am notified somehow by the guards that two men, fitting the description I gave earlier, had approached the gates and were promptly run off. This is followed immediately by the arrival of my family. They, in same fashion as the house, are unfamiliar to me and don’t even look like me.
I am starting to realize that I have probably slipped into someone else’s dream.
Either that or it is my dream, from another me, from another reality. The reality where my mother looks like someone else entirely. I hug them all the same and start inside. I notice there is still a man and a woman waiting to come in. It is the drunken couple from before, no longer the bearded men, playing at family. I shake my head in disappointment close the door to my house, or I should now say “the” house, leaving them out in the cold. I don’t think ill be seeing them again.
Inside now seated around the lounge, we talk as families do, rather, as this family does. There is a strange billiard table that has spherical fruits and vegetables instead of balls. There is a mass of opened cartons and containers of uneaten food, seemingly suspended in time, looking to be fresh and edible, though I know it somehow it is all quite old and would not be so tasty. This all makes me realize how hungry I am. Big surprise, even in my dreams Im always looking for something to eat. The search prompts me to leave “the” family and “the” house.
I head back into the darkness, passing through the wealthy neighborhood. Every other house seems to be hosting some kind of cocktail party. I can hear the sea of muffled conversations, laughter and clinking of champagne glasses.
It is so dark.
The lights on my bike begin to fail. I am left with nothing but a dim glow, barely able to see a few feet in front of me. With a bit of cleverness I manage to get enough light back to make it to my next destination.
I ride up to another large group of people. This time more present of themselves and their surroundings. They are all entering what can best be described as a dormitory. Yet again they are all strangers and somehow slightly familiar to me. I truly recognize only one of them as someone from the past. I also know that my brother is there, though I haven’t seen him, I can sense his presence. The dormitory is quite cluttered and disorganized. I talk with a few of the strangers about something unimportant, small talk. The uninspired conversation tires me, as does the mess of the place. It is even difficult to find where to step along the floor, through all the junk.
I decide to move on from this place now. Continue the search for something edible.
I hear in the distance my friend calling for me and my brother, who I have still not seen. I follow him to leave as he directs us out. Walking through the clutter the world starts to fade and I float back into consciousness.
I am awake now and I am ravenous.
I am beginning to understand more the alternate world of the dreaming. The nature of the infinite realities connected to it. The mass of people, the disorganization at the beginning and the end, things being strange and familiar at the same time. My bike always there, carrying from place to place. Patterns are emerging.
I don’t think the drunken couple, the bearded men, were bad things, intending me any real harm. Perhaps they are custodians of dreams, or that dream in particular. They knew this wasn’t my dream. I was a traveler, a tourist. I think they were simply trying to dissuade me from entering and after failing to do so, trying to escort me to my proper dream, my proper reality. I wonder for a moment why they didn’t just forcibly remove me, but Im sure even in the dreaming, there are rules that must be followed. I think they realize now that this happens with me often and can find my own way about, mostly without incident. Though this was my first encounter with, whom I will now refer to as “the custodians”, Im sure it will not be the last. Maybe next time I will be able to chat with them and find out what they are about. Just hope they remember to bring sandwiches or something if they really want to get my attention.
08.11.2009