Friday, October 1, 2010

Dream State

Play Back

The car moves quickly and quietly through passages of indistinct dark and light. Shadows slide by faintly illuminated guard rails outside my window and beyond that, to my right, very far down, water. I turn to the driver. He’s a heavy set man with a dark five o’clock shadow and thick eyebrows. He looks not at the road, is fishing around for something, his eyes darting down to the seat and back to the road. Communication is nil. It’s already set in motion. I’m only along for the ride. But I have to try.
“Stop the car,” I yell.
He looks in my direction, smiles, like I’d paid him a gentle compliment. I turn down the sun visor and gaze into the mirror. It’s not me I see but a dark haired woman sitting in the back seat. She smiles. Her mouth moves but I cannot hear her. The moment comes: The truck comes at us, swerving all over the road, the piercing sound of tires skidding across cement, an instant shock, a slap to the head and we’re falling off the bridge into the river. My stomach flies around in my chest; my heart pulses to burst my veins. Then the smack of hitting the water, the look on his face when he turns to me, the crunching of vertebra as my cheek melts into the steel door. I see it in his eyes. He knows. All was lost. Death rears and there was no escaping. It’s happening no matter what I do.
Stop time and see who he is. Can I start at the beginning, play it back?
Yes. I’m in the car again. We’d turn onto the bridge. What can I do? I unlatch the glove box and search for papers. Who is it this time? A name pops into my head as I try to read the registration. Then a flash of light, the crunching of vertebra as my cheek melts into the steel door. I’m in the water now, helpless, sinking down, trapped in the car, cold water envelopes me, bubbles escape my mouth as I scream his name.
”Carrillo. Pablo Carrillo.”
Then I woke up.
That was the first time I manipulated a dream to see who I was going to save.
The dreams first started about the time I turned thirty. I was walking home one early Sunday morning after a party in the East Village. I’d been drinking since about ten that evening and had a wonderful time chasing a girl I liked, trying to get her to go out with me. I failed in my attempt, however, and had way too much to drink. With time on my hands and little money for cabs, began the walk the fifty-something blocks back to my apartment. It was cold. Anemic flakes slowly began falling around me. After a while the snow stopped melting on the sidewalk and began a rapid accumulation. The light sputtering transformed into a white curtain and obscured anything beyond a half block in any direction. As I trudged on, the wind began to pick up. Swirling blasts of snow hit me in the face, numbing my cheeks and nose. I picked up a newspaper from a trash can and held it over my head. I looked down for protection, watching one foot step in front of the other. That was when I noticed the blood. There was a large drop of red on my shoe, then another on my knee. I put a finger to my nose and returned thin shades of red liquid. I collected snow and put it to my nose. Feeling woozy, I made it to the doorway of my apartment, unlocked the door and staggered into the building. I fell down, tried to recover but hadn’t the strength, and in the hallway I passed out.
I had the first of many special dreams. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the bits of information I was acquiring through this “dream state” would later enable me to save peoples lives. The information, or dream data, came to me in bits of short, black and white moving images, similar to a video clip. Micro movies I played back in my head and try to comprehend, but only if I woke up immediately. If I didn’t wake up immediately after, the information would slowly dissolve from easily remembered pictures into a mist of crumbling bits of black and white. I didn’t choose this to happen to me. I didn’t believe in ESP, mind melding, kinetic energy transference, time travel or anything else you can cram into that shit-box category. I was just an ordinary guy.


  1. I found this entry to be quite fascinating, especially since I have also received warnings in dreams about what was going to happen to people around me. Once I kept getting 'feelings' for a couple of weeks that something was going to happen, and then I had a dream that a guy in a wheel chair was saying his brother had something wrong with his stomach and this was going to lead to something bad. One night I woke up to red lights and police cars next door. The story was a guy had been in the hospital with something wrong with his stomach, got home, tried to commit suicide, and his girl friend fought with him over the gun and got shot in the shoulder. I told the guy this when I saw him a few days later, describing the guy in a wheel chair. He said that was his brother in law but he was as close to him as to a brother. I hoped my telling him my dream would encourage him not to commit suicide.

  2. Gerry, the ideas in this novel-in-progress are inspired by true events in my life as well. There have been times when I see the future, and am sensitive to certain things regarding people around me. It comes and goes, but I find meditation, painting and writing help facilitate this. Amazing story about your neighbor. I hope your saying something helped.