My Dad and another guy and I are walking down a sidewalk. We have been drinking at a bar. Although me and the third guy are sober, my Dad is totally wasted, slurring loudly and leaning on the guy who is with us for balance.
My Dad seems much taller and larger than usual, with a big barrel chest and bloated belly. His arm is slung around the guy, who is having trouble controlling their direction since my Dad is so large and stumbling around so much.
Suddenly, they stumble toward the street together and off the curb. My Dad pitches forward, hitting his forehead against the back door of a parked SUV. This knocks him backwards, and he cracks the back of his head against the curb, rolls off it and into the street, and then back towards the curb... where there happens to be a large open gutter that he rolls through, disappearing into the unknown depths below.
The other guy and I pause momentarily - stunned - then crouch down in front of the pitch black rectangle that has just swallowed my Dad.
"He hit his head a couple of times pretty hard," I say to the guy. "Do you think he is alive?" He doesn't answer right away, and I add, hopefully "There's no blood on the street." I'm about to ask the guy if he has a flashlight...
...when I awake. To my surprise, I realize this dream happened twice in a row, with only slight changes. It's as if, when the startling conclusion of the dream failed to wake me the first time, my psyche showed it to me again to say "Hey, wake up and think this over, dummy, it's important."
I find it strange that my Dad would be staggering-drunk in my dream, since he hardly ever drinks anymore and didn't drink at home much when I was a kid or anything. Is this about concerns I'm having with my own use of alcohol? Or maybe the theme of drunkenness is symbolic of the idea of relinquishing control (something that will be important in my upcoming travels)? Does the ending reflect a fear of mortality? Or of being separated from family and friends for the next nine months?
Whatever the meaning is, what is really sticking with me is the end of the dream; staring into the black rectangle of that gutter and knowing that I needed to go down there, but being afraid.
I realize that I need to go into that gutter right now. Maybe I can't get back to the dream, but I can close my eyes, go back, and take action.
"Do you have a flashlight?" I ask the guy who is staring into the gutter with me. He does, and he hands it to me. "You go call an ambulance. I'm going to see if I can find him down there."
Peeking my head into the chasm, I shine the light down, hoping to see some rungs. Indeed, there are some, and so I grab one firmly with my left hand and swing the rest of my body through the opening and slowly down so that my feet find the lower rungs.
Aiming the flashlight beam downward, I see that the bottom is about 15 feet below the spot I'm dangling. The world down here is a large, long rectangular cement tunnel. On the street-side of the tunnel, a two-foot wide stream of water flows. Rising above the water - beneath the businesses above, is a concrete slab that my Dad is sprawled upon. He is unconscious, but there doesn't appear to be any blood and he seems to be breathing. He's close enough that I should be able to jump down there without hurting myself. The ambulance should be here soon, so I think he'll be alright.
The image dissolves and I open my eyes. Whereas I had awakened with anxiety, I now feel somewhat empowered for having gone back into my mind and faced my fears.
My Dad seems much taller and larger than usual, with a big barrel chest and bloated belly. His arm is slung around the guy, who is having trouble controlling their direction since my Dad is so large and stumbling around so much.
Suddenly, they stumble toward the street together and off the curb. My Dad pitches forward, hitting his forehead against the back door of a parked SUV. This knocks him backwards, and he cracks the back of his head against the curb, rolls off it and into the street, and then back towards the curb... where there happens to be a large open gutter that he rolls through, disappearing into the unknown depths below.
The other guy and I pause momentarily - stunned - then crouch down in front of the pitch black rectangle that has just swallowed my Dad.
"He hit his head a couple of times pretty hard," I say to the guy. "Do you think he is alive?" He doesn't answer right away, and I add, hopefully "There's no blood on the street." I'm about to ask the guy if he has a flashlight...
...when I awake. To my surprise, I realize this dream happened twice in a row, with only slight changes. It's as if, when the startling conclusion of the dream failed to wake me the first time, my psyche showed it to me again to say "Hey, wake up and think this over, dummy, it's important."
I find it strange that my Dad would be staggering-drunk in my dream, since he hardly ever drinks anymore and didn't drink at home much when I was a kid or anything. Is this about concerns I'm having with my own use of alcohol? Or maybe the theme of drunkenness is symbolic of the idea of relinquishing control (something that will be important in my upcoming travels)? Does the ending reflect a fear of mortality? Or of being separated from family and friends for the next nine months?
Whatever the meaning is, what is really sticking with me is the end of the dream; staring into the black rectangle of that gutter and knowing that I needed to go down there, but being afraid.
I realize that I need to go into that gutter right now. Maybe I can't get back to the dream, but I can close my eyes, go back, and take action.
"Do you have a flashlight?" I ask the guy who is staring into the gutter with me. He does, and he hands it to me. "You go call an ambulance. I'm going to see if I can find him down there."
Peeking my head into the chasm, I shine the light down, hoping to see some rungs. Indeed, there are some, and so I grab one firmly with my left hand and swing the rest of my body through the opening and slowly down so that my feet find the lower rungs.
Aiming the flashlight beam downward, I see that the bottom is about 15 feet below the spot I'm dangling. The world down here is a large, long rectangular cement tunnel. On the street-side of the tunnel, a two-foot wide stream of water flows. Rising above the water - beneath the businesses above, is a concrete slab that my Dad is sprawled upon. He is unconscious, but there doesn't appear to be any blood and he seems to be breathing. He's close enough that I should be able to jump down there without hurting myself. The ambulance should be here soon, so I think he'll be alright.
The image dissolves and I open my eyes. Whereas I had awakened with anxiety, I now feel somewhat empowered for having gone back into my mind and faced my fears.
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Welcome, and thank you for your visit. Please choose an alias for yourself. If you knew me before I became Barefoot Beirdo, please humor me and refrain from using my given name here. I'd like to strongly encourage posting your own dreams in the comment field. Also, any constructive criticism of this blogs' layout and readability are greatly appreciated. This here's a work in progress.