I'm having a nap in my writing room. I feel a bit weird. I'm exhausted and maybe dehydrated. A glass of water and orange is on the other side of the room. It's within reach, yet it seems so far away.
Falling asleep, I find myself sitting on a bench in a small tent.
The sloping canvas roof of the tent keeps slapping against my head and face. It's white and light pushes through it. It bulges inwards with the wind, as though an animal is shoving it from the other side, but I know it's just the wind.
Still, I swat at it, as if there is some sentience behind it.
Meanwhile, although I see nothing, I feel things like large spiders crawl up my leg and into my lap. I try to get used to the feeling, because it would be nice not to be bothered by such things. All they are going to do, if they are real, is touch me, I reason. They won't even touch me; only my clothes.
After less than half a minute, I can't take it anymore and I'm swatting at them. This means, therefore, that I'm swatting at nothing and I know it.
My friend: "'Ello, mate. Can I come in?"
"Hang on," I say.
'm half-laughing as I wake myself up. It's like hauling a bucket out of a well and I'm the bucket. Dream is slopping over the edges.
I pull my way out of sleep, up through the swirls of white tent roof.
With a deep breath, I make my way across the tent toward the door, stepping over office equipment.
I think: "I'm a bit disorientated," but I don't say this out loud. I meant to speak, but the words stayed inside me.
When I reach the door, I realize that the door is attached to the tent, which means I'm still in the tent, which means I'm still dreaming.
This is not going to help me reach my friend, I think, who is standing outside the door in waking life, not the door in the dream.
try to wake myself up again.
In my writing room, my hood is over my face. I get up and stagger to the door, holding onto things to steady my way.
There's no-one there.
I flop back down and drink that glass of water and orange.
Later, I ask my friend if he called out to me earlier.
He says no.
Dean's Dream Journal
My writing is sometimes inspired by my dreams.
"How to Remember Your Dreams" will help you with:
Exchange your front row seat for a starring role.
Available on Amazon.