deja vu

this morning felt like most mornings until i reached for my apron in the back of the upper shelf in the right-hand cabinet in the darkroom, groping for an object i know to be there. when i felt the familiar stiff plasticized fabric, i remembered a dream in which someone gave me two identical leather aprons, and i left one at my house and brought the other to work.

i stood in the dark, holding the apron i knew to be the correct one that has been here since before i have been here, and could not convince myself that i had woken up, gotten out of bed, and came to work hours earlier.

there's a taste i get in my mouth when i am dreaming, which cues me that i am dreaming, and i could not taste that; thus, i knew it was safe to proceed with my day as if i was awake.

Permalink
29 January 2018 18:15

Mockingbird

The mockingbird followed and taunted and shook until it disintegrated. Huo gai, huo gai, huo gai, we shouted at each other, and I couldn't even ask it to calm down.

Blurry face, shaking head up and down while we screamed, until it burst. Pushing a wheeled dumpster bin and laughing and nodding at us. Sticking. Sticking to the back of my head.

Don't ever tell your kids.

Permalink
30 September 2013 12:26

Pre-Race Crack

I woke up an hour too late to make it to the race in time, because instead of the starting line being half a mile from my house like I had thought, it was downtown and there wasn't going to be any parking.

In the process of getting there, I was obliged to make another trip to China, a delivery run to return some library books. Why couldn't she just return them to the library on campus? Don't our campus libraries have reciprocity? But apparently, books that are sent through the mail are often held up at border control for months due to inspections, while books that are personally carried through the gates are generally waved on.

The trip wouldn't be until November, but I still didn't want to go. I'd only just gotten back from my last trip, and the taste was still bad in my mouth.

We got to the starting line just as the race was ending, but instead of having us run on roads, they opened up the track to let us do laps. I opted out, and instead, I watched.

My eyes are bleary and the thought of putting this mound of oatmeal into my stomach is nauseating, and I can hear the starting line party from my kitchen. Never have I been less enthused about running than this moment.

Permalink
29 September 2013 07:48

Half Dreams, Half Fiction

What keeps me up most nights is a reluctance to leave the last state of consciousness, from which I cling to some notion that I can control and direct my thoughts and my body. It is a state of cognitive uncertainty, my brain trying desperately to untie itself from awakeness where it becomes free to romp through the bizarre interior mindscape that is the dreaming, yet I am unwilling to sever the connection.

It's not from fear of disconnect, though; rather, I'm aware of many of those things that happen in my dreams, and I want to be present for them as much as possible. But instead of carrying my consciousness into my dreams, I try to keep one foot in the door back to awakeness so that I may slip in and out as I please.

What usually ends up happening is hours of limbo, during which I am effectively asleep because i cannot rouse myself enough to get back to awakeness, but the sleep is not restful.

Sentences float through my mind, the most tangible thing I can describe, like a lifeline shooting through the mental darkness and describing it to the part of my mind that can understand language. When I can remember to do it, I write them down, and they are still nonsense the morning after.

Permalink
21 September 2013 09:58