Wednesday, February 25, 2004
I had a dream the other night. It was quite weird. I woke up on a Greyhound bus listening to a music CD I had brought along. Across my lap was sitting Steven King's The stand. It was one of the many times I had read that book. I looked over to the side of my seat and saw the road passing me by quickly. We were heading west on interstate 80. Cars going by and fading into the distance as we passed them. I remember this scene perfectly. I had lived through it several years ago. Except this time I did not know it was a dream. I thought the first time I lived through it was a dream. The long ride back after getting hurt. The moments of silence that I had to exist in. The moments of pain that dulled the rest of my senses until I felt nothing at all. Even the pain disappeared as my body rejected everything it felt. The sitting there head leaning against the window. The feel of the worn out pages in my hand. Remember the night I read it outside in a park as I waited for her to return. Suddenly as I lay my head there the thought that everything was just a dream. I remembered a life somewhere else. I remember parts of the dream that I had. I was in another town working and hanging with friends. I was happy and had filled my life with so many things. I was everything that I am now but back then it was a dream. During this dream though I woke up. Suddenly the past 4 years of my life I realized was just a dream. I am again 20 and riding a bus back to my home town in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly the hurt fills me up again as I realize that I lost someone I cared for and now was heading back to my tomb. The dream faded quickly as I stared out of the window watching corn fly by. Why did this happen? I try to review the past few days events to see if there was something I did wrong. The details got fuzzier and fuzzier by the minute. I could not remember anything at all except the look of her face as she got the call. The feeling of holding her in my arms before she left. The feeling of the book as I held it in my hands while I waited for her. The empty hurt inside as I worried that she was in trouble. So I dreamed that I woke up the other night. I dreamed my life for the past few years was just another dream that I had. I dreamed the hurt and anger that has grew over the events in the past few years was just a bad dream. I was placed again at the moment I had been previously where I made a promise to myself. The promise that if I was not happy by 21 I would not suffer any longer. The promise that I would not keep living in pain. The promise I said I would keep because I could not take 40 years of this happening again and again. I dreamed I made that promise again to myself. Full of conviction I stared outside that window watching the world pass me by. Then I woke up in a warm bed in present day. I woke up laying on my side feeling the pain in my arms. The dull ache from cuts that have not healed. The many lines of red that crisscross back and forth on my arms. I remember the pain and the unforgiving silence. I remember the feeling of the window against my forehead. I remember my promise I made to myself and I know why I did not keep it. As I woke up and got ready to begin my day I pondered if I had made a mistake. As I woke up to begin my day I ponder if this was a dream of happiness I was having. If this was the happiest I can be in a dream then perhaps it was not worth it in the end. When will I wake up again next?