This afternoon I went down for a nap because I was feeling pretty drained. My hours have almost regulated themselves and I’m getting a good six hours of sleep most nights and am up before nine most mornings. But then by two or three in the afternoon, I need to stretch out and rest my knee. It’s on the mend, slowly.
But the problem is, even in a short nap, I have so many wild dreams that I wake up feeling almost more tired than when I laid down. This afternoon’s nap was no different. The dreams are what inspired the novel I’m working on. It’s about immortal beings that can travel to other worlds in their sleep. It’s not a new idea, but I think I found a neat twist.
During this dream, I found myself at my old family home. My brother was there having some kind of party. At first, I thought it was a memory as my siblings had a LOT of parties when I was younger. In the dream, I was 17-18 years old and wore one of my favorite outfits.
A van pulled in outside the house and I was told to get in as we were all going someplace “fun.” When I got into the car, I didn’t recognize anyone except the driver who was my brother’s friend. The van was packed and it made my anxiety shoot up.
Someone opened the door and wanted to get into the van. He was a taller man, dark skinned, with a wide nose. I guess the appearance didn’t matter. But his face was the only one I could see clearly and it stuck in my brain.
I offered him the seat next to me and he rudely looked at me, shook his head and said, “No, thanks. I’ll sit back there.” And I watched with dejection as he crawled into the very last seat. It was the WAY he said it. It was meant to sound insulting.
The strange van seemed to go on forever as I looked back and I got the chills. Something came over me, a flash of anger, or maybe my intuition not to go anywhere in this strange van, made me stand up and demand to be let out of the vehicle. The driver opened the door and let me out. I remember turning back to the tall man and giving him the one finger salute before going back into the house. “I was just being nice you douche-bag!” I said.
The rest of the dream moved fluidly. I knew it was a travel dream because of the way the world moved around me. Slowly. Methodically. Like the air was made out of liquid.
I wandered back into the house, and saw my brother’s old high school friends including my teenage crush. They all ignored me. I ran upstairs to my old room. Laid down on my bed, and woke up in another dream.
I was in the bathroom this time, of my current condo. My pants were down and I was on the toilet. My knee dislocated as I reached for the toilet paper, and it wouldn’t go back into place. I remained calm but nothing I did made it right. And then….
I woke up. I was back in this world. This reality. And my knee, it HURT. Almost like it had popped out again while sleeping. There’s a small bruise there now.
Sometimes I wonder. There are legends that say if you hurt yourself in your astral travels, then you get hurt here too – in the waking world.
I’ve almost died in these dreams and have woken up with real pain. Once I was shot in the chest, and I felt a sharp pain in the left side of my chest when I woke up.
So now, I’m left with all these strange thoughts of places I’ve travelled to in dreams. I wish I had kept track of all of them. But sometimes, the details fade as the day goes on. While other dreams stick out in my memory for years to come.
The more of this novel I write, the more active my dreams become, and the more questions, I have.