Dreams Pt. 1
29/11/06 23:14
I could
hear the waves thundering and crashing on the beach
not fifty yards away, but I could not yet see the
ocean. I pushed on through the thick Costa Rican
flora, parrying vines and elbowing through the dense
greenery. Stepping over little, fist-sized holes, I
could see chitinous bodies within, pale blue and
leggy. They scurried deeper into the darkness as I
moved over, making little rustling noises like big
spiders. Sometimes I saw a crab that had strayed too
far from its hole. They were beautiful things, all
sky blue, fading into a sunset pink in the center of
the carapace. Periscope eyes set on stalks watched me
as I fought through the impossibly thick growth, and
they folded down flat when the stranded crab lodged
itself under a log to escape me. The crashing was
closer now, and through the trees I caught a glimpse
of open sky. The jungle was thinning and was mostly
just huge trees with thick bark. Iguanas scratched
and scraped up the trees, dodging the huge thorns
that grew out of the trunks. I walked quietly over
dark seaweed that washed up during a time of high
water, probably during the hurricane. Flies buzzed
over the dark masses. It smelled musty and salty. I
stood a moment on the seaweed to look at the beach.
The shoreline stretched out in front of me, the water
clear as blue glass over the dark grey sand. The
ocean breathed; it sounded like a breath of air as
little waves exhaled onto the sand, tumbling shells
and debris in froth. It drew back into itself, rose a
little bit, and exhaled again. I stepped forward into
the sand...
“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” My hand pounded the top of my alarm clock and curse words immediately leapt into my mind. I wanted to break it. I tried to open my eyes but they burned and watered like they do when I don’t get enough sleep. It was dark in my room, but through the spaces in the blinds I could see a hint of blue beginning to seep into the sky. I was angry at everything. I wanted to stay sleeping, and I promised myself I’d sleep through ever period and then take a nap after school. I only got three hours of sleep anyway, and that was the fault of Mr. Crile who obviously doesn’t know how much is too much homework. I didn’t do it anyway, but I did stay up until 3:00 because I thought about doing it.
I have a problem with reality. When I am asleep, the idea that there is a reality more real than the current one is ridiculous. It doesn’t even enter my mind most of the time. When I am awake, I believe that the dream world was not real. Two minutes ago, I fully believed that I was in Costa Rica. Now, I fully believe I am at home and quickly becoming late for school. So how do I know which is true? Today, I choose to believe that my awake world isn’t real. I prefer my dream world.
But I cannot fully convince myself that my awake world is just my imagination, so I’ll play along. I begrudgingly put a different shirt on. I take off my jeans, smell them, decide they are still clean, and then put them back on. They have lasted more than a week. I must be really clean or something. I put some water on my hair and get a piece of gum from my pocket. Walking out into the living room, I see that Kaitlin and Kyle are both ready and waiting to go, so we all get into my white Subaru. It smells like the seaweed, except a little worse. I’m seriously sick of this smell. It reminds me of school. Pulling out, I turn on the hot air to clear the windshield, and wave good-bye to Mom.
No one is talking, but I’m still in a bad mood so I don’t put on any music or news radio. Something in me wants Kaitlin and Kyle to have to suffer a little bit, too. The car ride is uneventful, and I am so tired I don’t remember anything of it by the time we arrive at school. We are late, and nobody is talking outside. It is all empty, and makes me regret even more that I will be spending the next seven and a half hours inside under fluorescent lights, doing things I’ll forget about within a year. Over the roof of the school, the dawn sky is the pink I saw on the crab shell. The woods on the other side of the parking lot are bathed in a pale light and I imagine how much I would rather spend all day sitting in those woods than in school. Patches of fog drift over the street in front of the trees, and I swear at the school under my breath. Saying swear words to myself helps me deal with things I hate.
The palm of my hand punches into the wired glass in the window of the entrance door and it swings open. The whole entrance is painted an obnoxious orange, and the floors are ugly, once-white tiles with black marks that look like scuffs from shoes. I find my way to my history class and push the door open. “Hello, Mr. Altes”, Mr. Crile greets me and all eyes flash my direction.
“Morning”, I respond. I really like Mr. Crile. He is one of my favorite teacher and he’s a good guy to have first period. All of the eyes follow me to my desk at the back of the room, where they leave me and go back to their desks. Mr. Crile is talking about the Cold War and a Russian name that probably should hold some significance to me. He turns on the slide projector and goes to turn out the lights. Bad idea, Mr. Crile. As soon as the darkness fills the classroom, I fold my arms on my desk and lay my head down. I’m going back to my dreams. I hear Mr. Crile remind the class that we are having a test on this information this Friday. I figure that means it’s important enough to remember, so I dog-ear the page. But it won’t stay folded, and the dog-ear keeps righting itself. On the page, the picture in the middle is Mr. Crile standing in the darkness in front of his projector. As he speaks, the words are typed onto the page, which is by now almost full. I keep trying to dog-ear it, and the I have to turn the page. It still won’t stay down, so I just look at the page number, 33, and tell myself to remember it. I close the book and start towards the door, but the truck hits a bump and I drop all my books. The back of the moving truck is dark and stuffy, but it’s always fun because you get to lay on the couches and pretend like it’s all permanent. The truck begins to stop, and in a moment the garage-style door is opened.
“Well, git on out!” The mustachioed man drawls. As I step onto the ramp, my head and arms start to fall forward. My heart begins to race, and my whole body is starting to fall...
I catch myself just before my head hits my desk. My book is on the ground, the room is still dark, and Mr. Crile seems to be finishing. The blessed bell breaks the darkness and everybody starts putting books in bags and filing notes.
We all file out and I head to my car. I get in and I turn the ignition. I pull out so quickly that the wheels squeak, and I push towards the entrance. Nobody guards the gate until about half-way through second period, and I am confident that my day will be better spent elsewhere.
To be continued...
“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” My hand pounded the top of my alarm clock and curse words immediately leapt into my mind. I wanted to break it. I tried to open my eyes but they burned and watered like they do when I don’t get enough sleep. It was dark in my room, but through the spaces in the blinds I could see a hint of blue beginning to seep into the sky. I was angry at everything. I wanted to stay sleeping, and I promised myself I’d sleep through ever period and then take a nap after school. I only got three hours of sleep anyway, and that was the fault of Mr. Crile who obviously doesn’t know how much is too much homework. I didn’t do it anyway, but I did stay up until 3:00 because I thought about doing it.
I have a problem with reality. When I am asleep, the idea that there is a reality more real than the current one is ridiculous. It doesn’t even enter my mind most of the time. When I am awake, I believe that the dream world was not real. Two minutes ago, I fully believed that I was in Costa Rica. Now, I fully believe I am at home and quickly becoming late for school. So how do I know which is true? Today, I choose to believe that my awake world isn’t real. I prefer my dream world.
But I cannot fully convince myself that my awake world is just my imagination, so I’ll play along. I begrudgingly put a different shirt on. I take off my jeans, smell them, decide they are still clean, and then put them back on. They have lasted more than a week. I must be really clean or something. I put some water on my hair and get a piece of gum from my pocket. Walking out into the living room, I see that Kaitlin and Kyle are both ready and waiting to go, so we all get into my white Subaru. It smells like the seaweed, except a little worse. I’m seriously sick of this smell. It reminds me of school. Pulling out, I turn on the hot air to clear the windshield, and wave good-bye to Mom.
No one is talking, but I’m still in a bad mood so I don’t put on any music or news radio. Something in me wants Kaitlin and Kyle to have to suffer a little bit, too. The car ride is uneventful, and I am so tired I don’t remember anything of it by the time we arrive at school. We are late, and nobody is talking outside. It is all empty, and makes me regret even more that I will be spending the next seven and a half hours inside under fluorescent lights, doing things I’ll forget about within a year. Over the roof of the school, the dawn sky is the pink I saw on the crab shell. The woods on the other side of the parking lot are bathed in a pale light and I imagine how much I would rather spend all day sitting in those woods than in school. Patches of fog drift over the street in front of the trees, and I swear at the school under my breath. Saying swear words to myself helps me deal with things I hate.
The palm of my hand punches into the wired glass in the window of the entrance door and it swings open. The whole entrance is painted an obnoxious orange, and the floors are ugly, once-white tiles with black marks that look like scuffs from shoes. I find my way to my history class and push the door open. “Hello, Mr. Altes”, Mr. Crile greets me and all eyes flash my direction.
“Morning”, I respond. I really like Mr. Crile. He is one of my favorite teacher and he’s a good guy to have first period. All of the eyes follow me to my desk at the back of the room, where they leave me and go back to their desks. Mr. Crile is talking about the Cold War and a Russian name that probably should hold some significance to me. He turns on the slide projector and goes to turn out the lights. Bad idea, Mr. Crile. As soon as the darkness fills the classroom, I fold my arms on my desk and lay my head down. I’m going back to my dreams. I hear Mr. Crile remind the class that we are having a test on this information this Friday. I figure that means it’s important enough to remember, so I dog-ear the page. But it won’t stay folded, and the dog-ear keeps righting itself. On the page, the picture in the middle is Mr. Crile standing in the darkness in front of his projector. As he speaks, the words are typed onto the page, which is by now almost full. I keep trying to dog-ear it, and the I have to turn the page. It still won’t stay down, so I just look at the page number, 33, and tell myself to remember it. I close the book and start towards the door, but the truck hits a bump and I drop all my books. The back of the moving truck is dark and stuffy, but it’s always fun because you get to lay on the couches and pretend like it’s all permanent. The truck begins to stop, and in a moment the garage-style door is opened.
“Well, git on out!” The mustachioed man drawls. As I step onto the ramp, my head and arms start to fall forward. My heart begins to race, and my whole body is starting to fall...
I catch myself just before my head hits my desk. My book is on the ground, the room is still dark, and Mr. Crile seems to be finishing. The blessed bell breaks the darkness and everybody starts putting books in bags and filing notes.
We all file out and I head to my car. I get in and I turn the ignition. I pull out so quickly that the wheels squeak, and I push towards the entrance. Nobody guards the gate until about half-way through second period, and I am confident that my day will be better spent elsewhere.
To be continued...
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