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I should have kept my mouth shut about quotes like that last night. Life has a way of giving you what you ask for, but not what you mean.
I went to sleep shortly after I did my post last night, and boy, did I dream. I woke up about fifteen minutes ago, and I don't think that I moved all night. My left shoulder is killing me, but since we have that yard sale today, I have taken some Advil in the hopes that I'll feel better by the time I have to start toting things around. (Furniture, from what I understand, is included in this yard sale.)
So, my dream, before I forget it:
From the part that I feel I must remember, I know this: I was leaving someplace I thought of as work, and was going to go home, which was an apartment with my mom in San Diego. I had four big (as in 2-3 feet tall) bottles that held liquor at one point, but were open now. I remember that I was heading home, but I knew that my mom wanted me to get something from the grocery store. When I turned around, I was walking instead of driving.The bottles were still with me, but I don't remember carrying them.
I was walking back to the grocery store, when I saw a structure that could only be called a pier across the road in a place where the road dipped (like between two hills). For some reason, I knew that I should be worried about going under the pier, but I knew I had to go. I'm almost through, when I run into a fat man, sitting next to a small blanket holding a variety of drumsticks. I pause my iPod (which I'm now wearing for some reason), and stop the wagon (which is now carrying the four bottles). I ask the man how much for one drumstick, since I knew I had another one at home. (I really do/did only have one drumstick around here somewhere, but I think I gave it to my little brother several months back.)
We began to haggle, and he was very good. Midway through our haggling session, I decided that I wanted two sticks instead of one. I had been willing to offer one bottle for one stick. Around me, Larry (a neighborhood bully from my youth) kept playing Yes Man to the fat man. Finally, the fat man chose two bottles, including a tall slim bottle with an obelisk-shaped bottom, and top (the middle was round). This bottle was the "Maker's Mark". (I've seen Maker's Mark whiskey before, so I know it's not that bottle. That's just what it was called in my dream.)
I reached down, and chose two drumsticks, thinking it'd be nice to have a pair of drumsticks that I could tap away the music I'm listening to while going to the store. That's when the fat man began to get loud and offended. "Why are you getting two? We traded for one," he said in a distinct Rasta accent. Larry chimed in with, "Yeah, most pairs of drumsticks cost twenty dollars." I knew that he'd want another bottle, so I began to get nervous. I was supposed to have some bottles for home.
I put the drumsticks back down, and asked for my bottles back. He gestured to the side, where (we were now in a suburban backyard) they were already covered with spider webs behind a shed. I got them, and put them back on the wagon. Oddly, I didn't have to clean them.
That's when I woke up. Call me paranoid, but it seems those bottles were something very important about myself, and the drumsticks were a passing fancy. One could almost say that my dream self realized that trading part of you for a trivial benefit is not a deal at all. That shook me, just a bit. I feel like I woke up, because that was my only escape from that dream, yet I know I didn't do it myself.
Now that I've typed it out, I can definitely feel an air of importance to this dream. I think I may have gotten the message right, though. What does anyone think?
"Tonight I sleep
And nightmares have their reign
In grayish dawns and
visions gone
The world is not the same"
-- Solitude Aeturnus, "Beneath the Fading Sun"
I went to sleep shortly after I did my post last night, and boy, did I dream. I woke up about fifteen minutes ago, and I don't think that I moved all night. My left shoulder is killing me, but since we have that yard sale today, I have taken some Advil in the hopes that I'll feel better by the time I have to start toting things around. (Furniture, from what I understand, is included in this yard sale.)
So, my dream, before I forget it:
From the part that I feel I must remember, I know this: I was leaving someplace I thought of as work, and was going to go home, which was an apartment with my mom in San Diego. I had four big (as in 2-3 feet tall) bottles that held liquor at one point, but were open now. I remember that I was heading home, but I knew that my mom wanted me to get something from the grocery store. When I turned around, I was walking instead of driving.The bottles were still with me, but I don't remember carrying them.
I was walking back to the grocery store, when I saw a structure that could only be called a pier across the road in a place where the road dipped (like between two hills). For some reason, I knew that I should be worried about going under the pier, but I knew I had to go. I'm almost through, when I run into a fat man, sitting next to a small blanket holding a variety of drumsticks. I pause my iPod (which I'm now wearing for some reason), and stop the wagon (which is now carrying the four bottles). I ask the man how much for one drumstick, since I knew I had another one at home. (I really do/did only have one drumstick around here somewhere, but I think I gave it to my little brother several months back.)
We began to haggle, and he was very good. Midway through our haggling session, I decided that I wanted two sticks instead of one. I had been willing to offer one bottle for one stick. Around me, Larry (a neighborhood bully from my youth) kept playing Yes Man to the fat man. Finally, the fat man chose two bottles, including a tall slim bottle with an obelisk-shaped bottom, and top (the middle was round). This bottle was the "Maker's Mark". (I've seen Maker's Mark whiskey before, so I know it's not that bottle. That's just what it was called in my dream.)
I reached down, and chose two drumsticks, thinking it'd be nice to have a pair of drumsticks that I could tap away the music I'm listening to while going to the store. That's when the fat man began to get loud and offended. "Why are you getting two? We traded for one," he said in a distinct Rasta accent. Larry chimed in with, "Yeah, most pairs of drumsticks cost twenty dollars." I knew that he'd want another bottle, so I began to get nervous. I was supposed to have some bottles for home.
I put the drumsticks back down, and asked for my bottles back. He gestured to the side, where (we were now in a suburban backyard) they were already covered with spider webs behind a shed. I got them, and put them back on the wagon. Oddly, I didn't have to clean them.
That's when I woke up. Call me paranoid, but it seems those bottles were something very important about myself, and the drumsticks were a passing fancy. One could almost say that my dream self realized that trading part of you for a trivial benefit is not a deal at all. That shook me, just a bit. I feel like I woke up, because that was my only escape from that dream, yet I know I didn't do it myself.
Now that I've typed it out, I can definitely feel an air of importance to this dream. I think I may have gotten the message right, though. What does anyone think?
And nightmares have their reign
In grayish dawns and
visions gone
The world is not the same"
-- Solitude Aeturnus, "Beneath the Fading Sun"
