Chapter Thirteen - The Girl of My Dreams
In my psychology class, we spent about three days talking about dreams. There are several theories about where dreams come from. The one my professor liked best (and thus spent the most time on) was that, during sleep, the synapses of the brain fire randomly. The brain then tries to interpret the firings as sensory input.
It's a pretty good theory. It would explain why dreams rarely make much sense. I think there's more to dreams, though. Something that makes them less random.
After tossing and turning for several hours, I finally fell asleep at some time after 3AM. My mind had been buzzing with the whole Katalin/Chandler problem until it finally burned itself out, affording me some rest.
Most of the night I was comatose, but some time after seven, I started to dream. This happens a lot within the last hour before I wake up. For all I know, I dream all night and only remember the last hour or so. The dream I had that morning seemed like a consolation for the disarray that had erupted into my personal life.
In the dream, knew I had to get up by a certain time. But I wasn't in my dorm room in November. Instead, I was back in the suburban house I grew up in, and it looked like summer outside. The clock on my nightstand read 8:00AM. Time to get up.
I went downstairs to the kitchen. Though the act of eating breakfast wasn't part of the dream, finishing it was. As I put down the spoon and empty cereal bowl, I looked at the clock in the kitchen. It was a digital clock, the last working piece of the house's decayed intercom system. It was 11:43.
The only time I was ever late to school (that I remember) was in the seventh grade. I slept through my alarm and went through my morning routine on autopilot, not realizing what time it was until the bus was three minutes away. I had to have my mother drive me to the last bust stop in order to make it on time.
The incident in the dream was reminiscent of that morning. Which is probably why I did in the dream what I'd wished I could've done that day--instantly appeared in front of my high school.
I hadn't seen another human being for course of the dream, yet I wasn't surprised when I saw my old friend Kurtis riding toward me on a bicycle (which is strange, considering I never saw him ride one in real life).
"Mark!" he yelled, not slowing down. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm late for school!" I said, as if the past year of my life hadn't existed.
"There's no school today!" Kurtis yelled as he passed me.
Of course there was no school. I looked around at the beautiful blue skies and green grass, the fully-leafed trees. It was summer. Nevermind that Kurtis and I had graduated--it was summer!
Except that I was a couple of miles from home and had no way to get back.
"How did I get here?" I asked, trying to remember my source of transportation to my alma mater. "And, more importantly, how do I get back?"
I pondered things for a few moments before deciding I would have to walk.
I'd made it about three houses past the school when I saw a familiar figure mowing a lawn ahead. That must have been her summer job, I thought (an idea that made no sense, since I knew she worked at a Burger King drive-thru year-round).
It was my If Onlyl. But something was different. When she noticed me, she let her mower go and (completely undirtied by her work) came over to me. That's when I noticed what the difference was. This wasn't the girl had chased through all of high school--this was the ideal I'd fallen in love with.
We exchanged some words I can't recall. Then we embraced. In that moment, I had everything I need right then.
It's a pretty good theory. It would explain why dreams rarely make much sense. I think there's more to dreams, though. Something that makes them less random.
After tossing and turning for several hours, I finally fell asleep at some time after 3AM. My mind had been buzzing with the whole Katalin/Chandler problem until it finally burned itself out, affording me some rest.
Most of the night I was comatose, but some time after seven, I started to dream. This happens a lot within the last hour before I wake up. For all I know, I dream all night and only remember the last hour or so. The dream I had that morning seemed like a consolation for the disarray that had erupted into my personal life.
In the dream, knew I had to get up by a certain time. But I wasn't in my dorm room in November. Instead, I was back in the suburban house I grew up in, and it looked like summer outside. The clock on my nightstand read 8:00AM. Time to get up.
I went downstairs to the kitchen. Though the act of eating breakfast wasn't part of the dream, finishing it was. As I put down the spoon and empty cereal bowl, I looked at the clock in the kitchen. It was a digital clock, the last working piece of the house's decayed intercom system. It was 11:43.
The only time I was ever late to school (that I remember) was in the seventh grade. I slept through my alarm and went through my morning routine on autopilot, not realizing what time it was until the bus was three minutes away. I had to have my mother drive me to the last bust stop in order to make it on time.
The incident in the dream was reminiscent of that morning. Which is probably why I did in the dream what I'd wished I could've done that day--instantly appeared in front of my high school.
I hadn't seen another human being for course of the dream, yet I wasn't surprised when I saw my old friend Kurtis riding toward me on a bicycle (which is strange, considering I never saw him ride one in real life).
"Mark!" he yelled, not slowing down. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm late for school!" I said, as if the past year of my life hadn't existed.
"There's no school today!" Kurtis yelled as he passed me.
Of course there was no school. I looked around at the beautiful blue skies and green grass, the fully-leafed trees. It was summer. Nevermind that Kurtis and I had graduated--it was summer!
Except that I was a couple of miles from home and had no way to get back.
"How did I get here?" I asked, trying to remember my source of transportation to my alma mater. "And, more importantly, how do I get back?"
I pondered things for a few moments before deciding I would have to walk.
I'd made it about three houses past the school when I saw a familiar figure mowing a lawn ahead. That must have been her summer job, I thought (an idea that made no sense, since I knew she worked at a Burger King drive-thru year-round).
It was my If Onlyl. But something was different. When she noticed me, she let her mower go and (completely undirtied by her work) came over to me. That's when I noticed what the difference was. This wasn't the girl had chased through all of high school--this was the ideal I'd fallen in love with.
We exchanged some words I can't recall. Then we embraced. In that moment, I had everything I need right then.
*
It's amazing how one moment of peace, one that's not even real, can give you the strength to face the day. My alarm went off at 8AM, giving me just under five hours' sleep.
Somehow, those five hours were the most restful of my life. It was time to fix things before I added another pair of If Onlys to my life.
But first, I needed a shower.
Originally posted on January 8th, 2005
Somehow, those five hours were the most restful of my life. It was time to fix things before I added another pair of If Onlys to my life.
But first, I needed a shower.
Originally posted on January 8th, 2005
posted by Andrew Michael at 2:42 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home