Wednesday, July 15, 2009
6:00 A.M., and the sirens go off. I mechanically get up and out of bed with no need of conscious involvement. I pointlessly keep my eyes close and try to keep dreaming as I reach the bathroom and relieve 5 hours of immobility. 5 hours is a pretty good amount of rest, usually I get a scattered 3 hours of shattered incomplete dreaming. It’s always been the one dream since I was 12; the never-ending dream. 20 years later and all I want is to finish this damn dream.
I’m young; I’m 12. I’m running and I start to pick up speed. I run faster and faster until I become a flash of light. I elevate from the ground. I keep floating higher and higher. I’m approaching a ceiling, but I become thin like vapor and pass through seamlessly. As I get higher and higher in the sky I begin to expand and spread, always maintaining the intensity of my light speed. Passing through clouds I absorb their moisture. I float out of earth’s atmosphere and towards the sun. As I pass a star I absorb its gaseous components. I pick up as much cosmic material as I can. I am huge, bigger than the earth. I start to absorb planets and dark matter and black holes. But I can’t stop, I continue towards the sun, if possible, moving ever faster. Right before I reach the sun, in what seems to be a catastrophic collision-I wake up. Over and over again I worthlessly attempt return to the impending impact, only to start all over again.
It’s taken me 15 years to get to this point, night after night of dreaming. For the past 5 years I always wake up when I get to the point of collision. At first I had no interest in completing the dream. I tried everything I could to dream of something new. Even in my daydreams I returned to the same scene. Once I realized it wasn’t going away I made an effort to get to the end. It’s the only thing I haven’t tried. Plus, I’ve grown increasingly interested on what will happen if I crash into the sun.
It’s not even that magical anymore, after 20 years of the same image you get bored. The explanations start to become more interesting than the actual dream. You explore every possible hidden meaning behind it. One explanation that seems to stand out among the rest is that an extraterrestrial intelligence has implanted a puzzle in the form of this dream in my head as an evaluation of human cognitive capabilities. Once I figure out how it ends I am rewarded with it’s meaning. This explanation always leaves me a little depressed at the end; they should have found someone smarter. What if I cause the utter destruction of humanity for my lack of ingenuity? Then again, I suppose if some otherworldly creature were to assess the intelligence of the average American person I suppose I fit the description.
6:30 A.M. sitting on the toilet I open my eyes in my last attempt to finish this scene. I get dressed. Brew some coffee and contaminate my body with wakefulness before the subway ride to labor. I have moved passed such emotions as frustration. I try not to be irritable about it. The lack of sleep has been a recent syndrome. I suppose if I can’t indulge escaping reality in my dreams then what’s the point of dreaming. I feel as if I have been robbed of my imagination. I feel grey and lack pigment as I look at myself in the mirror.
7:10 A.M., every morning I step outside and I pause before I’m forced to face the world. I do this same routine in an effort to satisfy this dual existence. To be a functioning adult in this waking life, and still dwell deep into the world inside my head. I’ve never really told anyone about this dream and don’t intend to. This is my challenge, my burden to figure out.
7:26 A.M. I reach the subway stop. This is probably the worse moment for me. I read somewhere that eye contact is the most direct way to connect to people. Every person I see in front of me, I make an effort to engage. I look into their eyes and search for some kind of indication that they will have the answer I need to unlock the riddle that plagues me. I look with desperately hungry eyes; unsuccessfully I try to hold back. I am aware how scary it may seem to a stranger. I cannot contain my desire to resolve this. It hurts when some of the women clutch their bags and scuffle past me at a quickened pace.
7:30 A.M. The train arrives. We are tightly herded in, echoing animal cries of dissatisfaction at life imposing this most unnatural routine. Ay but this is labor. I do enjoy looking at the pack surrounding me. All disconnected from each other, avoiding eye contact while I desperately seek to connect. They can feel my gaze calling at them. It’s drilling a hole at their skin until the invisible line reaches the appropriate place and they link for 2 seconds and then quickly look away. As if I could see them completely bare-naked when our eyes meet. I can hardly see them at all, let alone naked. They can see me completely bare; maybe they think I broke through their barriers since I’m completely exposed.
7:37 A.M., A man walks in with two FootLocker bags and yellow pants on. I can’t stop staring at his legs. As the train vibrates and shakes, his legs become 6 and 8 with the rattle. I shiver. I start to see shapes and objects merging out of his legs’ movement. Bananas, crayons, and albino serpents begin to mockingly extend from his direction. We must be passing a rough tunnel because the train is shaking uncontrollably. I feel a pang of motion sickness approaching so I close my eyes in an attempt to settle myself.
I’m a huge mass of collected material zooming at light speed towards the sun. I feel what I mistake as its warmth increasing my temperature. I soon realize that I am absorbing it’s radioactive fire. I am only fire. I am a giant star speeding towards this universe’s life source. I am fully aware of my power and intensity. I will not stop this time. We collide and we explode and become one. The impact sends an echo of flames across the many galaxies surrounding ours. We create a rip in dark matter and all is sunken into it with a furious intensity. As I emerge out I’m a mere shadow of myself. I am awake and I am 12 again in bed, body drenched in salty sweat. As I wake I forget the nightmare of the past 20 years of that inescapable routine.