man, did i have some fucked up dreams last night. the really vivid kind, in full-colour, that stay with you for hours after you wake up. it would take me pages upon pages to describe all the images and sequences of events, but you prbobably don't want to know that much about my subconscious (i certainly don't). i only bring it up because on a couple occassions in my past i've shared dreams with other people or been dreaming of things that were actually happening on the other side of the world (i'll give you an example in a moment so you don't think i'm a total crackpot). on these occassions, the dreams have been particularly clear and lingered for hours or days afterwards.
prime example: when i was in middle and high school, my best friend was a guy named, well, lets call him miller. miller and i had an incredibly close relationship. we finished each others' sentences, we always knew what the other was thinking. we parted on poor terms one new year's eve after we arrived at a party together (i was ass over teakettle in love with miller and had high hopes for the evening) and he left the party with another girl. the bastard. i was bitter for years and didn't speak to him. fast forward to the fall of 2000. it had been 4 years since miller and i had last spoken, and i was in a rainforest in australia, totally cut off from civilization and becoming increasingly depressed over the continued destruction of the planet's wild places.
and i had a dream about miller. i can still tell you every detail of that dream. i can tell you what he was wearing, how he smelled, the sound of his breathing. as i was writing about the dream in my diary, i realized for the first time that i was no longer angry at miller. the grudge i had been carrying for years had dissipated, and more than anything i wanted to find him and talk to him and to once again be a part of his life. i determined to track him down the moment i got home in december.
i arrived back in michigan exhaused, homesick, and freezing cold (going from a tropical summer to a michigan winter is not fun, particularly without the aclimatizing autumn in between). I didn't know where miller was living, but his mother still lived in town, so i rang her up. she remembered me and was happy to give me miller's phone number. when i called him he recognized my voice and asked me if i'd gotten the email. "what email?" i asked. "I didn't have internet access in the rainforest." he said he'd sent me an email a little over a month ago saying that he wanted to get in touch with me and catch up on old times.
i went up to the computer and checked my email, scrolling back to november. sure enough, there was an email from miller. i looked at the date. i ran for my diary. compensating for the time change and the international date line, he sent that email the exact same night i had the dream. you will never convince me in a thousand years that that was a coincidence.
back to last night and my fucked up dreams. the man in my dream (not the man of my dreams) was in his early to mid-thirties, tall, paunchy through the middle, had brown, curly hair, and looked vaguely like michael moore. i have never seen this man before in my life, and i'm forced to wonder if he was conjured up by my fucked up subconscious, or if (and now i'm really going to sound potty) he came from somewhere else. i'm tempted for curiosity's sake to put out a call for anyone meeting this description who knows me to get in touch with me, but i really don't want every web-surfing loser who looks like michael moore stalking me online. ergo, if you are a man of this description, and you know me, or you think you know me, or you are contemplating claiming that you know me, go away. and stay the fuck out of my dreams.
and take your iguana with you.
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