2003-09-07 - 9:31 a.m.

It's been a long time since I wrote an entry first thing on waking. As usual, this time it's because I had some very lucid dreams last night/ this morning.

I had an agonizing period of time where I'd been convinced I had not only drank alcohol, but drank it to severe excess. My memories of this one are mostly clear, but quite scattered. The beginning of my memory is actually in the middle, where my mother is talking to me about a party I'd attended a few days earlier. She told me that I had gotten really drunk. I vehemently denied this, searching my memories (which is awfully confusing while you're dreaming, since dream memories apply as well as real ones) for any indication that I might actually have done it. My mother insisted, with the bitter finality of one breaking bad news to someone they fear is slipping back to their old self. At this point in the dream, I .. heh.. I actually practiced humility and since I couldn't "remember" clearly, I believed her, then went through the ordeal of realizing that I'd broken the most meaningful promise I've ever made to myself in this lifetime. That hurt. A lot.

Come to think of it, it's not the first time I remember feeling this way during a dream. I've at least twice and possibly more times felt that utter inner crumpling, that sense of colossal failure, that weight waiting to crash down on me if I do drink, having actually crashed down on me. I can't overstate how bad this feels, and it certainly feels 100% real while I'm dreaming it.

Anyhow, the dream went on. It turns out / turned out that I could actually recall the party itself, which was an earlier dream, although I'm only about 60% sure on this. It's either something I dreamed earlier, or a "memory" that was created to fit something which I thought had happened. I do want to record as much of this as I can... what happened after the conversation with my mom was a search for evidence which produced several handwritten pages soaked in something that smelled like mouthwash. One page even had a drawing on it, done by someone else, of a cartoony individual sitting in a cartoony car. I guess typical nonsense drunken party stuff. The other pages were close-written blocks of green ink text that, although I wasn't able to actually read it in the dream, I sensed were important personal declarations and revelations. These pieces triggered memories of the party and served to confirm my certainty that I had in fact done the dreaded deed.

I thought there was more to it, but that's all I remember from that part. It wasn't until far later in the night, maybe 2 or 3 sketches further, that I was relaxed enough to access my true memories in relation to this query and realizing that, no, in fact, I hadn't had a wild drunken party nights a few days ago. I don't know exactly how far out of sleep I had to come to make this decision, but I know I didn't "wake up" as we normally define it. My eyes didn't open, and I dreamed before and after, but I do remember the moment of relief.

At this point I'd like to record that I woke up to go to the bathroom at quarter to 5. I checked the clock on the way back to bed and it read 4:43, notable because it was almost 444. Although I can never be sure about the timings of my dreams, I do believe most if not all of this happened after that. I woke up for good at about 8:30. Oh yes, I reaffirmed to myself again on actual waking (before my eyes opened though, this was the first order of business) that I had in fact not drank alcohol at any point in the recent past, and it was just a dream.)

I have a memory of another road dream. (Odd, I'm also recalling that at some point during my sleep I had one of those almost-awake thinking moments where I reflected on some of the road dreams I've had). This one was new, though. I think. Almost sure. (oh.. wait.. I'm remembering something. I tied in one/some of my road dreams with highway 17 along lake superior. Because it is so remote and carved out of rocks in many places, I'm sure it is the root of a particular road I've dreamt often. This road was described in the entry where I talked about having transport trucks hanging just over me, about to fall) So yeah, anyway, this road was in the form of highway crossroads that lay next to each other, and the only significant thing about it was that I thought to myself at the time that I could never remember which way was which around these crossroads. Pretty skimpy, but you never know when they'll come back and I want the record.

It's so strange.. I could draw a picture or paint a painting with hundreds of small details describing what I "saw" during this simple road dream, but using words I only use a small percentage of the image as description. What use is it to describe the twilight atmosphere, or the existence of light traffic, or the width and newness of the pavement, etc, etc, etc. How about the fact that there were woods all around? I don't know, it seems when I talk in words, I'm only interested in bare bones descriptions, but I dreamed so much more.

Anyhow, on to the later stuff. The next I remember is fragmentary, with the last half being clearer. This sketch is about me being at a party, although a non-alcoholic one :) In fact, it was a pot party. There are an awful lot of girls at this party, and I have the feeling that all of them are interested in me. I know I'm forgetting an awful lot of the first parts.. there are tantalizing bits of memory floating around there, but I do clearly remember a part where I walk (ah yes! return! omeone hurt!) to a place where some girls are laying under a blanket and I'm welcome to join them. I get over there, taking my time, and chatting with everyone, then inquire about how one gets under this blanket, and the girl I'm interested in invites me in next to her, when at that moment, there is a big ruckus off in the distance, in the direction I've come from, about someone being hurt.

This hurt person turns out to be someone's younger sister. (This is definitely odd and I believe relates back to me seeing some teenagers out and about friday night, having what seemed like a little too much fun, while a younger child tagged along with them...) Anyhow, I head over there, worried about what could be wrong, and am comforted to find that she only has a bleeding nose. Wow.. it's amazing when I follow these trails how details can suddenly come popping back in that old noggin. What I did was grab a pillow for the girl to lay her head on, then soother her by examining her injury. I poked under her nose, asking her if it hurt, and continuing close to her nose until she said it did, then repeated the exercise from above her nose, pinpointing the area of pain and also checking for the severity of the injury. With both of us reassured that it wasn't anything major, I remember us laughing and then someone approaching...

...where the dream changes. I am now in my grandparent's old house in Elliot Lake, the frequent destination of such sudden changes. There are lots of people in the house, and we are having some party. The young hurt-nose girl is there, but no longer hurt, and there are other, older girls who unfortunately aren't around at the moment. I remember from this dream that the young girl was so full of adulation for me that it really bothered me and I kept fending her off.

At last I am on the porch on the side of the house and the company is driving off, when suddenly the dream changes again. I climb down from the porch and I am golfing with my step-dad. Now this is the last dream before waking so it is extra-clear. I distinctly remember not only what happened, but that the experience was ultra-clear while in the dream. I was on a tee, getting ready to hit, and Sean is standing next to me. I ask him to move because he's standing too close and I would hit him with my driver. Then he explains that the hole is only 190 yards. I look up and notice a flag very close to us and start taking aim at this one, but this is the wrong flag; the right one is to its right, appropriately about 190 yards away. I choose a 4 iron as he is telling me to use a 3, and begin trying to set up my ball.

The tee is unfortunately made of rock, with a fence very close behind, and sand all over the place. I do manage to get my tee in the ground with the ball on it, but when I stand up I realize I would hit the fence with my backswing (I do, backswing that is, and hit the fence, just clipping it though.) I try again, and this time when I stand up the fence is even closer. I am starting to struggle here, with sweat on my brow and a feeling of discomfort... I put my tee in the ground again, this time quite a lot farther to the front of the green, then stand up and brush the sand from my hands (no, this doesn't make sense) which takes quite some time and is arduous, then line up the ball, but I'm right by the fence again. This can't be, I think, and as I look down I realize there are two balls, the one I put in away from the fence, and another, the one I'm addressing, which appears in the same place as an older ball. I move to the good ball and set up. I'm actually ready to hit now. It's taken forever to get this far, people are waiting for me, I'm anxious and frustrated, and the ground/rock I'm standing on isn't level. I can't seem to get aimed at the pin. I look down at the ball and have that familiar feeling of uncertainty, knowing I'll mess up the shot, vision fuzzy, brain buzzing. I swing and whiff the ball completely. I shrug off this miss and get settled to really crank it, then I kill the ball with my next swing. However, I mishit it (although the contact felt perfect) and it goes short and to the left, causing another guy on the tee and myself to yell "fore" at someone practically in the path of the ball.

Why do my dreams torture me like this? Anyway.. this was a weird one.. ultra-clear, like I said.

Next, we are in an old garage with holes in the door. It is my grandfather's old garage in Elliot Lake, but it has been refurbished for golf. The dream is making so little sense now that it is disintegrating and although there is a bit more, I can't remember. This is when I drifted out of sleep.

Phew. My palms are sore where I've been resting them on the desk. My ass is sore from this seat. No, I'm not dreaming, time to get in the shower.

My mind is full of various road and city dreams. I'm trying to remember if I've written about them before, but if I haven't forgotten them by now, then I never will, so I can write them another time. Adieu.

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