Rebounding Again

Stephen Pimley | Daily Life,Dreams | Monday, March 24th, 2014

Holy fuck my brain.

I woke up and my legs were both covered in a bright red base coat of bio-luminescent paint, further detailed with a floral pattern in every color imaginable. The types of flowers and their arrangements were distinctly different on the left leg than the right and I wondered if there was any significance to this. I wasn’t even sure if the patterns were really on my skin or just a temporary hypnagogic hallucination, so I sought to document the moment. I got out my camera and tried to focus on the design, but every time I snapped a picture it started to move and warp away. The pattern shifted as if it was trying to hide itself from the eye of the camera. It swirled into a blur of colors at the center of the viewfinder then Sepultura’s “Arise” began playing. I held up my camera in astonishment at how it suddenly started playing music instead of taking pictures. In doing so I revealed that behind it was my old radio/tape deck alarm clock from the mid 90’s and I had hit the Play button by accident. I fumbled with the buttons as the music grew painfully loud in my ears. I could hear people having a muffled conversation in the hallway outside of my room and I didn’t want to disturb them or even alert them to my presence. A fraction of a section after I stopped the music it started up again. My vision panned to the right where another tape deck had begun playing the exact same song. I stopped this tape as well, then lurched across the bedroom trying to clear my head. I found my jeans crumpled in a pile on the carpet and stared down at them trying to summon the series of thoughts and actions that would result in my legs being placed through them. A few seconds of jazz music filtered into my ears then vanished. “That was definitely a hallucination!”, I exclaimed in triumph. There were no other radios in this room and I finally knew that at least this time it was all just my mind playing tricks on me. I *pushed* against some unseen wall in reality trying to force my way back… to another place where my footing was more solid. I woke up on the floor of a school classroom. In my sleep haze I had been documenting my dream experience to my teacher while the other twenty odd students poured over small netbooks, apparently oblivious to my presence. The teacher commented on how wonderful such a dream must have been and how jealous he was for my youth. I replied, “No sir, in fact it was quite terrible to experience and the entire time I found myself wishing it would end.” He shrugged as if I just said the most absurd of things but he didn’t want to press the matter. He handed me a netbook like the other students had, and ushered me over to my desk and chair. The screen revealed some sort of day-to-day simulation of human life broken into city-sized groups of students around the world each categorized by an era of history and a lifestyle they were choosing to emulate. As I walked around the room to observe other students interacting with their experiments I also began to fly and the room itself became the simulation with twisting paths linking each distinct city otherwise isolated by the life choices of its inhabitants. I woke up in bed and my legs were out from under the covers and in the air. They were thrashing violently in muscle spasms so powerful that they must have begun in my dream yet had to run their due course even now that I was fully awake. I tried to regain control over my body but even as I did I realized that the surface of my legs was bright red and flaking dead flesh everywhere. The closer I looked the more I saw crevices where the flesh had dried up and separated revealing dried blood. I hobbled out of bed and somehow found small comfort in knowing that I would have a decent excuse to miss school today. Recovering from my severe dehydration in the hospital would surely be better than having to be around so many other kids. A man was sitting on the foot of my bed as I began to dress for the day. Laughing aloud, he commented on how horribly I slept. He went on and on about how much noise I made in the grip of my dreams and I that could be heard from his bedroom across the hall. I tried to avoid thinking about it as I was already ashamed enough of my dreams, further still that everyone else knew about them. I woke up again. Did I wake up? There was so much more, but the pieces slipped out of my hands before I could get to this side of reality. My head is still reeling.

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