Thursday, January 17

Pans reality

I’m asleep, I think.

I’m dreaming, I know it. Everything has that pans-reality feel. People aren’t the people they are – but they are. Places aren’t the place they are – but they are. I would go into the details but the dreams of strangers are tedious at best: “You were there except you weren’t you, you we’re my 3rd form English teacher and I was at my work but it wasn’t really work- it was a field in Cuba”. All that kind of bollocks which is/was enthralling to you but is pure tedium to the person that knows nothing of what you’re ranting. Either way I was dreaming and the dream was – how do I say it - “Invaded”. The sound of water – I feel wet too – in my dream. My mind is confused by this wetness. And so I dream a while longer – the concept of wetness growing through my dream and then alarm hits as my subconscious collides like a wave into fat man. I sit up in my bed – that hazy mid night confusion a blaze. I rub my eyes – as big a stereo type that is - I rubbed them hard, by the moon light streaming through the window I saw my bedroom filled with water. Filled almost level with my bed and its linen. My legs are wet. A million things run through my mind and amongst it all I feel my survival instincts trying to get the better of every one of them. Thoughts like: “I’m going to die!” – Are swiftly felled by – “Is the power off? – I should be careful of electricity” a million voices fight for attention as my adrenal gland gets going with supplying a dose of adrenalin – And I’m off down the hall way, destination: Upstairs. Dry.

I wade down my hallway through the darkness bumping miscellaneous flotsam and jetsam – could be lamps could be pillows – I could care less. I think little for my house and its glorious array of western excess. I feel down the walls to guide me to my hand rail. And I am up climbing dripping wet on to my plush mahogany stairs. Two voices fight within me as I climb. One shouts “The world is ending!” the other murmurs “it could just be a flood I guess…” I hear the roar of water growing louder.

1 comment:

Toolman said...

I tried to keep a log of my dreams for a while - its hard work describing something as erratic and irrational as dreams! They seem to be all about emotions and sensation...