The sleep has been sound these past nights, as deep as the ocean that never sees light, the sleep of a man who is content with the day’s doings. Slowly, I’m becoming more acquainted with getting what needs to be accomplished done, but focus is still regularly fought for. I’m getting better at noticing my distractions, getting better at the fight. In time this will be habit, but for now I need to watch myself, correct myself. The life I’ve dreamed of since I was a child is within reach and I must keep moving towards it. Even with all the impossible dreams I’ve made reality in my life, this has always seemed the most unreachable – the one I’ve failed to make true more than any others.
But this time, I will get there – and in between the days of working towards it, I will sleep, and sleep well.
With the sleep comes dreams. These were strong, heavy, and it seems the dream sweeper was only able to clear parts of them before I woke up, leaving some lingering memories.
I wonder what would happen if we remembered all of our dreams – every terror, nightmare, beauty – every monster, failed escape, and fall, into love or a pit of fire or blood. What if there was nothing to sweep the dreams away? Would we go insane? Would we lose the difference between a memory or a dream after a while? Confuse those for what we call “reality”? What would be real then? Is that who we see, muttering to themselves with a wild & terrified look in their eye shuffling down the street?
Lucid & bright, the past three nights I’ve found myself in the same setting – a house somewhere, a large pool with a man-made island in its far center, and at the edge of the pool a drop of about 30 feet into a warm natural lake. Sometimes I find myself further in the same chapter, sometimes the chapter has been re-written, but I’m there each time.
In the first dream, while a group of us were… relaxing, I think, laying around outside the pool, a friend tossed a 2×10 board over his head like you would toss the pit of a cherry – randomly, without intended direction. When it came down it came down on me, crushing my fore-arm and breaking the screen off of my laptop. I was more pissed off about the laptop.
The next night, my wound was healed and we were all swimming. There was a woman I didn’t know, long brunette hair with deep curls, an impish & intelligent smile, and eyes that shone with pure sex, sensuality & lust. We didn’t find it necessary to hide anything we did together – and I really liked that part of the dream, as you can imagine. I may be getting old, but I still desire, still lust, still want to taste the flesh & sweat & juice of the impassioned fuck… yeah, that part of the dream was nice…
In the dream I would jump from the ledge of the pool into the lake below, where others were swimming – doing elegant dives, flips, twists on the way down, then feeling the beauty of the water enfolding me as I broke through, arching my body as I went under so the velocity gained in the dive would bring me exploding up through the surface.
It brought beautiful memories back of when I was a child in San Diego, where pools & high-dives & natural cliffs to jump off of into the water were scattered everywhere. I would jump of nearly anything, just for that feeling of flying, just to be in the water.
Now, in this age of litigation and people who bitch and whine about everything, the cliffs have been closed, the diving boards taken away from most pools. Our lives are far too protected anymore – I feel so sad for the generations that have come after me – they can’t know – aren’t allowed to know – the simple beauty that life can offer. The don’t know how to create games out of nothing but imagination; of feeling completely free… but then again, I don’t really know.
I can only hope that I’m wrong.