Saturday, January 14, 2012
I refer to my basic dream apparatus. From what I understand, most people are allowed to take fantastic voyages while asleep. They fly, they visit worlds of wonder, they have passionate affairs. I don't do a damn thing when I'm asleep that I wouldn't do awake. That's a third of my life, squandered, and I want a refund.
Would you like to be able to fly? Sure. Unfortunately my waking self is a little afraid of heights, so there will be none of that in my dreams. I can only manage a sort of moon-lope, one toe always dragging the ground, gravity dialed down one notch. It's the best I can do. It's pathetic.
Even my anxiety dreams are annoying. In the current version, I am racing through a strange airport in search of a gate to make a connection I absolutely must make. My race takes me through jammed escalators; no one will step aside; I dash outside and pinball through busy parking lots. One night I actually recognized the dream while I was dreaming it, and I woke up, relieved that I didn't need to make that connection after all, and drifted back to sleep. Whereupon the first thing I did was go to a ticket counter and explain I'd missed my flight and was there another one? There was; it was leaving in ten minutes; it was on the opposite concourse, but if I hurried...
Here's what I do. I take the most repetitive thing in my waking life and do that all night long. When I started working for the post office, I sorted letters in my dreams. When I took piano lessons, I did not dream of playing flawless Chopin; I repeated finger exercises. Now I spend the entire night clicking on blogs to find one I like well enough to leave a comment. I may be doing it at my high school reunion which is being held in a tent city in Zanzibar with Pat Boone dishing up the meatballs, but that's what I'm doing: I'm sitting in a corner commenting on blogs.
There is no Nobel Prize for inventing a bike potty. There's no call for it at all.
So I object to the whole kit. It's defective. The only thing going for it is that I do know exactly what happens after I die. I'll be racing all over hell and back during finals week looking for St. Peter's podium but I can't find it because I didn't ever go to the class and never cracked the book.