Flying, falling

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I had one of those lovely flying dreams last night.

Perhaps it was caused by the condition I had put my body in during the day. I was attempting to conduct a five-day raw fruit and vegetable cleanse. With preparation, these can be of great benefit. But, with a handful of lettuce leaves, some broccoli slaw, two apples, and lots of “Sleepytime” tea they create a very, very bad headache and a desire for eggplant rollatini. It probably was the best ShopRite-brand eggplant rollatini I have ever had.

Besides a two-hour layover around midnight, where I walked the dog, had a bowl of Life and sent e-mails, I slept from 7:30 p.m. until 6 a.m. It was great, absolutely great.

I had one of those lovely flying dreams last night.

Perhaps it was caused by the condition I had put my body in during the day. I was attempting to conduct a five-day raw fruit and vegetable cleanse. With preparation, these can be of great benefit. But, with a handful of lettuce leaves, some broccoli slaw, two apples, and lots of “Sleepytime” tea they create a very, very bad headache and a desire for eggplant rollatini. It probably was the best ShopRite-brand eggplant rollatini I have ever had.

Besides a two-hour layover around midnight, where I walked the dog, had a bowl of Life and sent e-mails, I slept from 7:30 p.m. until 6 a.m. It was great, absolutely great.

Sometime around the final leg of slumber I dreamed DwD. and I were players on the New York Jets. This is particularly amusing because: a) neither of us is a fan of the New York Jets and: b) DwD. is not noted for being a particularly dedicated football fan. But, there we were, in an apartment building in something I guess resembling a football uniform. We had helmets on but I think I had underneath my helmet my dog-eared wooly hat.

It is apparently the beginning of the quarter and we are supposed to return to the field. DwD. exits the apartment and I follow, only to be slowed by a pair of fellow former students from high school: Frank, who did play on the football team, and some little guy who I think might have been named Chris (then again, who wasn’t named Chris in high school?). They are surrounded by several attractive girls and all seem to be headed to the game as well. At first I feel apprehension (the armchair psychologist in me would call it “high school hangover”) at talking to them, which is unnecessary since they both seem to be perfectly fine folk. I remember that I am on the New York Jets and, with a mild sense of self-importance, let them know I must be on my way and set off at a jog toward to stadium.

It is at this point I begin to feel like I am floating a few inches off the ground, which helps me move faster, I think. My legs spin like I am on a bike. I hear what sounds like a PA system from the stadium though no stadium is in sight. I rise a few more inches, a few more, a few more still, to the point where I can see what amounts to a tropical forest along the edge of a beach, and clear blue water beyond. I am still in my faux-football uniform as I climb higher and higher, as if in a plane, until I see everything along the water’s edge, my arms flapping like a bird. Then I begin to descend.

At first the drop is slow, and it appears I will be able to guide my fall onto the beach. But, no matter how much I move my body in that direction, I cannot seem to reach land. The descent is picking up speed now and I am beginning to worry that I will fall into that clear water which, no matter how pretty it appears, will still kill me.

Just before I fall in, I see a crest on the side of a steep stone wall, declaring that piece of property owned by the family of Colleen, which is amusing since I am seeing her in New York this weekend and have not seen her since August, when I checked my e-mail on her new laptop and found out my teaching assignment had been pulled.

Then I fall in. No splash, not a crash, or with any kind of intense impact. I move right into the water effortlessly.

I look around. It is so stunning and I can see everything. Is that coral? An underwater city? It seems like I can breathe, but my sense of panic at being unable to swim takes over too fast. I wiggle my toes, then my arms, then everything, and I wake up a little after 6 a.m.

I panicked, I think to myself. I didn’t even give it a chance.



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