|"Bike in the Rain" by Brenton Salo|
As promised, what follows is a narrative of my dream last night, with one of the more obviously random and unrelated portions removed (it was a somewhat uncouth section), and with the name of a very real person changed. He’s a very close friend with whom I grew up, and still see every time I go home, and talk to at least weekly. For the sake of this blog, he will forever after be known as Apollo. Now, without further ado, let’s begin. Welcome to my dreamland.
The first thing I remember, I was back in high school, and I was picking out an outfit for school that day. I was looking specifically at a pair of earrings, fashioned from one big, stout, cylindrical, light-blue bead each. They looked like they may have been chalcedony or aquamarine, but I knew that they were really glass. There was a necklace that matched the earrings, but it was a slightly different bead that hung from the chain as a pendant. It was more of a teardrop and less of an cylinder. This set of jewelry had some sort of significance to me, possibly a spiritual one, but I no longer remember what it was. It faded upon waking. I also remember looking at a white lace shirt with short sleeves. It was simple and elegant (not at all my normal style). Incidentally, I have never owned such earrings or such a shirt. But in my dream, my high school self did.
Then I remember riding a bike through the rain on my way to school, which never once happened. I haven’t ridden a bike since I was in the third grade. But, in my dream, I was riding one and I was taking the scenic route. I remember wishing I had taken my car instead, since I didn’t want my clothes to get wet. It was raining really hard, and I was also worried about the roads being too wet and that I was going to break my arm again, but I never fell. There were no cars on the road, just me and my bike.
Suddenly, it had stopped raining, and I was in a bright, sunny, and very green woods. The forest smelled like after a spring rain, and everything felt fresh and new and healthy and even magical. My friend Apollo was there, smiling, and dressed all in white. We were the same age as we are now, so he was more muscular than in high school, but his hair was longer like he used to wear it back then. I was wearing white, too, but a lacy dress this time instead of the shirt I had picked out earlier in the dream (which also, incidentally, I do not nor ever have owned). My hair was loose. We greeted each other, then I followed him deeper into the woods. I remember holding his hand as he helped me over a log.
After that, I remember riding a bike again, only this time I was on my way back from the lot where we park our cars during football games. It was very dark outside, and it was raining yet again. This time I wasn’t worried about the roads being slippery, although they were dark from the dampness, but I was worried about being caught out of uniform when working out and getting in trouble for it. Then I heard a calm male voice narrating about Afghanistan…and here’s where I’m cutting a section. It concerned bodily functions. I shall elaborate no further.
That same voice, however, began narrating another section, about a court case in which a young women had gone to visit her ancestor’s tomb, and there she found that other people had started burying men, who were not a part of her family’s lineage, in the same area. The young woman’s, or perhaps her ancestor’s, name started with a ‘C,’ but I can’t remember more than that now. Either way, the young woman had sued the people burying their dead in her ancestor’s memorial area, and had won, so the other caskets were supposed to have been removed.
This transitioned to me standing in a garden, looking a tomb with a stone effigy of a beautiful woman in flowing, ornate robes lying on top of it. There were tombs of men who I knew to have been soldiers scattered around her, and I think there was a living knight (although he wore no armor, he had that knightly quality about him) guarding her tomb. As I approached the tomb, the stone woman came to life and sat up so that she was reclining regally on the tomb like it was a cushioned bench. She held a huge battleaxe in her left hand like a scepter. Her hair was intricately dressed with lots of ringlets. She greeted me with a head nod, but I was nervous that she meant to kill me for trespassing on what was clearly her sacred realm., but she assured me that was not her intention and that the axe would cause me no harm. Instead she extended her hand to me, and I laced my fingers through hers. I felt like she was crushing my hand with her stone grip, and I winced, but when she released my hand, it was fine and didn’t hurt. Then she rested her heavy right hand on my left shoulder, but I stood firm even though it was a huge weight. She said that she was watching me, and that I will make her proud. I asked for clarification, because I was confused since I didn’t know who she was or why me, but she simply repeated, “I’m watching. I’ll be proud of you.” Then someone—I’m not sure if it was her, or the knight, or even me—asked, “Where were you last night?” All I heard in response to that was my alarm sounding, ironically with an answer of “California.” My alarm is currently set to Hollywood Undead’s song of the same title, and that’s the first word of the ring tone.