Odd Dreams

Last night I had such odd dreams...though perhaps that isn't very odd for me. It happens to me often. These were the kind that you need to keep dreaming. The alarm goes off, you hit snooze several times and it never breaks the dream. And you don't keep dreaming because it's fun. No, these dreams were not quite fun, just involved. I had a purpose, things needed to take place, I needed to find something. My head and chest felt heavy, and every time I reached for the alarm the weight pulled be back into suspension of consciousness. It was as if I wasn't allowed to leave until it was done.

Island people were missing and no one knew where they had gone. Cliffs and jagged rocks had sprung up along coast without warning, and I was the only one who had seen them move...the only one who knew they were alive, merely lying in wait. There was some phantom behind all of this. The cliffs were at his command. He was not quite substance, not completely spirit. My chest hurt when he was near and that's how people knew when he was coming. He could only be turned away with words from an old language few people could speak anymore. A few others and myself knew the language. The words stung on your tongue like venom and burned in your throat, but they made the phantom shriek and fly away before he could hurt anyone. Would you leave such a dream just because a little box next to the bed keeps making loud beeping noises?

So I got out of bed a half hour late. No, the dream had not been resolved, so I felt...unfulfilled. My head and chest still felt quite heavy, and my body ached as if I'd had no rest at all.
I've learned that for someone such as myself, a brew known as "coffee" is necessary to maintain consciousness in the waking world. Without it, I'm far too inclined to succumb to the the weight of the world of dreams.

I got into the car 12 minutes late, and took a small moment to hook up my ipod. I may try to stay in the real world as much as I need to, but music reminds me that other worlds should never be forgotten or dismissed.

I was, in fact, on my way to class. To duty. To responsibility. But I felt as though I was driving away from purpose. I'd had that feeling ever since I dragged myself out of bed. On the main road to school, several cars pulled out in front of me and proceeded to drive 10 mph under the speed limit. When I got into the city, I made it to the tracks just in time to sit and wait for the train to creep by. I sighed and turned up the Stones, telling myself I can't always get what I want, by I might find I'll get what I need. It took me another few minutes to realize they had closed off my usual parking lot and i needed to find a new spot farther away. I jumped out of the car, grabbed my books and trudged to class in the reprimanding rain. I glanced at the sky, "What was I supposed to do? Stay in bed? I have class at 10am."

My soggy shoes squeaked down the hall as I tried to brush raindrops off my eyelashes. I looked through the window into the classroom. Empty. I checked my watch. Ten after ten. Slowly, I pushed open the door and read the board:

Dr. Prescott's British Literature
canceled due to professor being sick.
Class will resume on Friday.


I hope someone found out where the Island people had gone.