It does occur to me that I sleep more than I think I do and that I have a reoccurring dream of looking at the clock and thinking I’m still awake. When you dream you never dream you’re asleep, do you? I’ve had more mundane dreams than clock watching before and it’s odd that my mind has chosen to do this sort of thing to itself. My subconscious could create some sort of wild fantasy of flying through the air at light speed, with friction lighting up the sky, which having sex with a goddess, but no. I get a dream that I’m awake looking at the clock wondering how much sleep I’ll get before I wake up.
But then again, maybe I really am awake.
I do know that last night I did have a dream. Okay, maybe I didn’t. See? This is where it gets really strange; there are no witnesses to something that may or may not have happened during sleep that may or may not have occurred. That’s the real concern here. I’m feel like I’m trapped, sometimes, between two worlds which are mutually exclusive. Either one or the other exists but the two cannot.
So the dream is one of those where I get a fragment when I wake up. It’s like trying to decode a page of cryptographic information when there’s pieces of the page missing. There’s a woman’s voice and she asks me, “Do you remember “The Waltons”? And I tell her I do. Then she asks, “How did John and Olivia get together?” and I’m at a loss there. I don’t remember them ever going back in time on that show and doing prequels but then again, I never watched that show very much. That was back during the day kids watched whatever their parents watched and my father didn’t watch “The Waltons” so I more or less didn’t.
“He won her in a fight”
And I wake up wondering what in the hell was that all about? I don’t remember knowing the character’s name for “Olivia” but I sat up and thought about it. I pretty much have assigned the name “Olivia” to Olivia Wilde and that would have made for a much better dream, honestly, but maybe my subconscious is fighting some of the same battles I am and Olivia was transferred to Walton instead of Wilde. Alphabetically, it makes sense that way, but I have some strong doubts about the mind working that way at all.
Have you ever read “One Hundred Years of Solitude” by Gabriel García Márquez? An entire village goes without sleeping and people begin to dream while they are awake. I wonder if that isn’t happening to me sometimes. It has feel really strange today, this morning, before the caffeine has kicked in, and I wonder if I won’t roll over to find the clock glaring at me before the end of this sentence.
“One Hundred Years of Solitude” is one of those books that I read then reread and then sat down and read again. It’s not an easy read but one you catch the spirit of the book then it’s fairly easy to get lost in it entirely. Reading the book in its native language would be one of the best reasons to learn Spanish. There’s a lot of magic and weirdness in the book and after reading it you’ll wonder if you imagined part of it, after all.
I thought about that book this morning, wondering if I was dreaming while I was awake and it was mentioned in “The Writer’s Almanac” and that’s a very strange coincidence. There’s a story wandering in my mind about a man who finds a dead child on his property and the detective investigating the story can’t figure out if he was involved in the murder or not. Worse, there’s no one who claims the child and that makes trying to figure out who killed her even harder. Then this morning someone left a link on my blog to a “His Car Murdered his Baby” link about leaving kids in hot cars. I delete links from my blog and this one felt odd anyway.
But there were two things floating on my mind that hit reality and that’s set the tone of the day to be downright surreal. One the one hand, maybe I’ve tapped out all the weirdness that one human being is allowed for a while and things will become a little more real because of this. On the other hand, if it worsens instead of getting better, who knows what the hell will pop into my mind and into reality at the same time? I would hope I don’t meet anyone named Walton today, and Olivia Wilde doesn’t get won in a fight but there’s a feeling of instability that just will not go away. It’s like driving down the road in a car that had to be jumped off before it would crank up. Will it keep running or will it not start again or is the battery dead? Is there some deeper and more expensive problem that will pop up and cause the car to die in the middle of a turn or at a traffic light? What if the problem in in part of the computer running the car’s electrical system and it takes NASA three weeks to figure it out?
The curse of writing is that all things, great and small, internal and external, are fodder for the Muse. I do feel sorry for her because let’s face it, there’s some fairly odd events that pop up in my life whether I’m awake, asleep, or can’t tell the difference. She has to do what She can with what She’s been given, and all in all, it’s amazing She hasn’t left me for a more stable platform for writing, if such a thing even exists.
If something happens today that involves Olivia or Walton, it’s going to be interesting to see what it is and how it unfolds.