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4/19/2017

Dream Journal

A long drive on a rural road. Ahead, the piercing blink of a an emergency road sign. It blocks the entire road, both lanes, and reads something to the effect of “Return to detour route. Supercollider malfunction.”

I dutifully turn my car around, and fiddle with my phone attempting to capture the odd sign on camera, presuming some sort of misspelling or joke. As I roll video, and explain to my wife what I’m seeing, intending to send it to her, rather than text or send without context, I realize the world around me is now full daylight, and full of springtime oranges and violets. I maneuver the car gently around some strange angles of landscape, all the while filming and narrating.

“This is strange,” I say, send the message and put down the phone as I drive back into town. I stop at a gas station bathroom, and as I finish at the urinal, stage manager J walks in on me.

“What are you doing in here? It’s the mens room.” I chide, gently.

“Sorry. I saw you come in, and I’m a little shaken up. I was just in an accident. I can’t drive my car.”

“It’s all right,” I say, as I wash my hands, “You can stay with me. I have a room at a motel for the night.”

J checks herself in the mirror, and notices that a small hole of an injury, right where one might get a piercing, is visible on the right side of her nose. She sighs, and I put my arm around her.

When we get to the room, she puts down one bag, then goes back across the parking lot to retrieve something else from my car. As she’s walking back to the room, I notice an oddly dressed woman walking a dog. Her path looks like it will intersect with J’s, and I make a few motions to J to wait, or to hurry so that she won’t run into the suspicious-looking woman. When J gets to the door, the woman arrives at the same time and greets J like a friend, while at the same time, pressing the point of a large knife into her side. J isolates at the point of contact, and I step in and wrench the knife from the woman’s grasp. Thankfully, it is a dull stage combat knife. The woman wanders away mumbling.

“Do you know her?” I ask J, as I run my fingers along the edge of the knife, and confirm its dullness.

“Yes, I met her last time I was here.”

Before I can ask more questions, J has left to retrieve yet another thing from the car. I shake my head, and check my phone to see if my wife has responded to my texts, but she has not. I have a feeling that I have no signal, though the phone shows otherwise.

I turn to see the motel room door is still open, so I close it, and begin to unpack. Moments later, there is a knock. Assuming it is J, I open it thoughtlessly. Instead, it is my friend S. She comes in, and has a seat on the couch, and I close the door behind her.

As I continue to unpack, she chats with me for a while. Then, I notice the door is open again, but through the threshold, I only see an exact duplicate of the door, this one closed. I close the door, my door, and S shrugs at me.

“You’ve guessed it,” she says, “You are in a parallel dimension.”

“Yeah, I thought that might be it. But, this place doesn’t make sense. There don’t seem to be any rules. There’s no stable point around which it all hangs.”

“I didn’t think it would bother you,” she smirks, “What, are you too used to that point being you? Pretty selfish.”

Filed under: Ennui | | Comments Off on Dream Journal

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