Submitted by: CQ
I am not one who has many dreams, not ones to recall or wake from still caught in their story-board flashes. There have been at least two or three dreams that I have had over my years that have not faded from my memory. Mostly because they reach deeply into my psyche and touch on things esoteric that seem to hold ingrain of empirical data and create the possibility that such incredible imagining might be in some regard truth. One dream had me try and grapple with one Bigfoot, another has me plop back into my bed as if from flight with the roller coaster butterflies battering stomach walls, and the quick respite that might occur from such abrupt changes in one’s state of inertia. The third of which I might comment is the perhaps the least physically eventful, yet it is by far the most lucid, most real, most “thought I was really there” of them all. This last one has happened the most recently of them all , and has made me think many things in relation to it since.
As a wild twenty-something one night a dream came in which there was a gray day out upon the fall fields of an eastern mountain somewhere. Eastern because it had the features of old mountains , as the Appalachians that I have rambled about in on a few occasions. Not like the jagged, and ominously angular mountains of the west, as The Tetons where also nature blessed my feet with a few nice hikes. Well as I was coming down into a clearing down low on my dreams mountain, there was Bigfoot just out in the clearing and almost intruding in defiance of my dreaming there. I recognized two things about the moment - One I was still asleep, I was dreaming , and as such being the case I thought before I rushed him “ how the hell is he gonna dominate me in my dream , it is my world to control, not his!” I felt this pervasive intrusion by his presence, and did not feel encountered positively or that I was being reached out to, more as an amusement, a “look what made it’s way in here” to what may indeed have been my host, the big impenetrable giant that he proved to be.
So as my experiment commenced an astonishing development immediately struck back as I closed the distance between me an my opponent, as I prepared my last attempt at devious symmetry for a final leap through the ever -closing gap between us. He (might’ve been a She, pardon my not being certain) sat there quite as at peace, and as free from threat ever more so in the short time it took me to close the yards and leap on him.
He just sort of chuckled at my lame attempt at aggression, that ended up with me swinging a awkward right-handed hay-maker into this invisible force field , a sort of impregnable bubble that I then bounced back off of, a few yards from actually being able to hit my target.
As I regained my upright stance, I furthered the point in my head that outraged me, “how can he be in control of my dream?!” I tried to interlock once again , and he was even more delighted by now at my ne effort, and as before I just bounced of this invisible bubble of some sort, it didn’t hurt me to touch it, it just threw me from it as hard as I threw into it. I awoke soon after this second attempt to jump bigfoot and see if I could dominate him on what I perceived to be even terms, that is in my dream, in my sleep, safe back at home in my bed.
The falling from flight dreams go even further back into my life , back to the years of pre adolescence and then even to the teen years. I can recall on occasion having the distinct physical resonance of stopping very suddenly , and this almost plopping sensation as if I gained consciousness on the second hop of my return to bed from some mystical flight of fancy.
There would be that rumble that sensitive stomach feels on quick downward shots, or perhaps in mid path on a man made structure over impractical natural barriers, or on a tram chugging with interminable slowness to the peak high above as high above is all that grows in mind for the ride.
It has been so many years since I have had one of these dreams, or returns from dreaming, but that feeling in the core of my gut, and the particular mix of saliva just thinned by a mouth that waters, certain aspects of these dreams remain as real as ever in my memory and until writing this here , now , I have not thought much about these fantastic awakenings from those years of growing.
A dream that has had the greatest impact on my reckonings of this topic , involves a particular line of dialogue spoken to me, to which my response was never verbalized, yet understood, and was understood thoroughly , immediately and I was promptly returned to me bed. Only this happened about a half year ago now , and I don’t think I will ever forget how real this dream felt.
How I was so sure I had really been there. How it did not make sense in some logical ways, and yet it seemed all to perfectly planned out, everything I could make out as a detail was neatly set up, beyond that visage , that sort of Vaseline lense of light that would not allow me to witness anything more than the objects in the center of the shot, as sight strayed to the edges things became a wonderful warm blur of comfortable light.
There I was at some grand log cabin set in what seemed to be a fair green place, for all my panning , this was what became composite of the shots. I was being taken silently on a tour of sorts and allowed to enter the structure I had just taken to be a big log cabin in a meadow of sorts. Inside were what seemed to me to be printing equipment , all at rest, no workers at the various bench spots , just a quiet array of bulky machines that looked outdated as to my lifetimes experience. Then as if not leaving the room , suddenly I was out under a tree near a picnic ground that lay between my present position and the cabin I had not just walked from to get to this point, very strange movement I thought. Well there I was and as I have said earlier I made the details of my position by taking shot after shot with my limited blurred vision and then condensed them into a panoramic view of my surroundings. As I was working out this sort of processing for my travels in this new world I was on, when it was as if my shoulders were pressed back to the tree, but I was not touched by any limb, or hand.
There was a slight , bearded fellow, with the look of a servant upon his face, a vague capitulation, and a sort of duty filled tone to his suggestion. He said “ You can stay if you like.” And he did afford a small but genuine smile at the end of his invite, his permission.
My children flooded my head, my wife, my world of connection here on this plane of existence, that which I know as most relevant , most impending, and most inescapable. As these thoughts were flinging through mind there was a tug of the soft sheets that let me know for sure I had to be at me regular real job in a few hours, and that I had been safely returned to my bed. Though Through out all these periods of my life , and even in the warmth of a safe bed , on a long night of rest, my thoughts can be lead to one pulsing idea that says over and over with sweet unresolved melody “I want to go home.”For what it is worth
Sincerely,
CQ
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