I’m standing in front of this grocery store in some strip mall and there are some flimsy metal tables and too small chairs scattered around. It is hot and the sun is baking the black top and the air smells like paper and ammonia and in the parking lot the cars bask in the sun, immobile, suffering in silence.
I’m so thirsty I can’t think straight and I leave whoever I’m with and walk over to this kind of seven-eleven and I go in there, there’s an immediate blast of coldness and vivid color and I go to the soda machine as I ask the guy behind the counter “do you have plain soda water? Can I get that? A cup of ice and some soda water?”
Dude comes over to me in his red and green shift. He’s got greasy hair and a suspicious-looking mustache and he’s holding up two glorious Big Gulps full of crushed ice.
“You can have these, dude.” He starts to hand them to me, then pulls them back. “But there’s a catch.”
“You have to take these twins with you.” And he motions over with his head towards these two kids I hadn’t noticed before. They were about eleven, red-headed and freckle-faced, dirty and barefoot. They looked like every kid does in the middle of summer.
“They’re pure evil.” The man says, and hands the cups to me. “They’re yours now.”
I look over at the twins and one of them looks up at me. His eyes are vivid green, the color of antifreeze, and they’re electrified. A terrible fear rises in me, a tornado of fear running right through the middle of my hollow body.
“Come on then,” I say, clutching the cups of ice. “Let’s go.”
And they follow me outside.
I’m standing on the beach with my back to the sea. It is night and the beach is crowded with my family members, everyone I know. They’re trying to talk to me, they’re moving forward and I’m backing away. I step into the surf, holding my hands up as if to stop them. I can’t hear what they are saying and I don’t understand why I’m backing away from them. I don’t know what’s going on at all.
I leap up into the air and I’m flying, but kind of doing acrobatics, too. I have no control, really, looping and swirling around. I come to a stop a few inches above the surface of the water and hover there for a long while as everyone on the beach stands there kind of motionless and gape-mouthed.
The night is pitch black but alive with stars and everything pulses. I can see undulating stars on the water, dancing in silence. I’m holding my breath.
I look up at the stars and shoot straight up into the sky, accelerating. In seconds I’m at the edge of the atmosphere and seconds later I’ve left the solar system behind and as I go faster and faster and farther and farther the stars coalesce into a single bright pulsing light and I shoot into that and everything gets white and very loud.
The thing about dreams is that they feel really important to us and they of course bore the living shit out of everyone else. There’s nothing in these two dreams to hold any interest to anyone. What was interesting to me was that each dream triggered the physical sensation of being touched by some outside intelligence- through the medium of dreamtime. I had the distinct, not impression, but direct experience, of another intelligence speaking to me through the dreams- in the green eyes of the boy, and in the white light of the flying dream- once the intelligence connected to me, to my mind, there was a transmission of experience from it to me. From mind to mind.
Like how when you meet someone for the first time, you don’t really wonder if you’ve actually met them, right? You did. It’s simple.
That’s what this felt like to me. I’m not saying it happened.
I mean, not in any real way.
I think it did, though.