Dream 07–26–16

No wonder I didn’t want to wake up. I’d already done so several times in the night. I drank too much water. I drank too much whiskey. At 8:30am, I woke up and thought it was closer to 4am. It was dark in my room. But the clock doesn’t lie. It had been raining. That really is the best time to sleep. But I guess my body had had enough. And my dream had just ended. I didn’t want it to. I should have forced myself to stay in it. Close my eyes, and just … sleep. Is that even possible? It probably would have ended up continuing as a daydream. After all, once I’m awake, I’m awake.

I wrote a lot on my book yesterday. I guess it kicked up some memories of Mom, and of all the dreams I have/have had. There haven’t been too many significant ones lately, or that I remember. And I’d kind of missed them. I guess I thought the whiskey might help. And … I guess it did.

I don’t know where we were. We landed in some new tropical city, on a trip of some sort. But just as we arrived, we were separated. One look away … and she was gone. I met up with some other people, did a few things that now I can’t really remember. There was filler, but it’s not important. I looked everywhere — in my brain, online, in the phonebook — trying to figure out how to find her. I was outside the door of someone’s apartment, but couldn’t remember their name, not even by looking through my phone’s contact list.

Then somehow I knew to go to the police station. I told them her name. I described her. They searched for her. They found her. There she was, all smiles and open arms, coming around the side of the building. And we hugged and hugged and hugged some more and were so happy to see each other. And we cried, but good tears, because it had been too long.

And then I woke up. No wonder I didn’t want to. Thank you, water. Thank you, whiskey. Thank you, book. Thank you, thoughts. Thank you, Mom for visiting me in my dream. I love you.