The Dream (from 10/6/2009)

Tonight I had one of those very real dreams.

It probably only lasted for 35 minutes or so, but it was very real. So real that it affects you. And this was only phase 1.

In phase 1, I find myself at a strip club, hanging out with some random people I'm not sure what they represent. One of the women in the group was an African American girl. She was young, kind of thick, but not too thick. Just a little plump. The cute kind, like the one I believe Huxley describes in Brave New world, only black. Actually, Huxley actually never explicitly says the color of this woman or any of the other characters besides the Indian. Then again he probably did somewhere in a not-so-explicit way. Yet I digress. The point is that it was one of those very vivid dream. A random person from my high school I was not friends with arrives at some point, we'll call him SS. Two of my girl friends from college were in a group of girls and were there. I had one particular stripper taking care of me. There was a car ride involved, but at this point I have forgotten how that transpired (possibly). The stripper taking care of me was the one driving. There was no dancing and no actual nudity that I recall in the dream. But it was a strip club. I remember the stripper saying somethign to the affect of "let's pool it up." This meant go out into the pool. This made me recall earlier parts of the dream (which may have never actually happened in the dream, but I made the recollection in the dream) where there were people in the pool. This strip club setting must be loosely based on what I've heard about the Men's Club in Houston. There are a lot of African Americans in the club. A lot of velvet-type colors on the walls and even in the clothing. The plump black woman who was in my group of friends was wearing a shiny silver dress, that fit around her body for the first part of the dream and a black lacy dress for the second part of the dream. The dress turned lacy for a purpose I will describe later. Anyway, after the "pool it up" comment, I remember this was said while walking back into the club from whence I was lying on the street next to the car. The stripper had come up to me and lured me in. I guess she had been away for a while. I may have gone outside to hang out with the boys or girls or something. This may be SS's first appearance. He's playing a game with pre-adolescent boys in which there is a competition of some debate and they ask for my help in determining the actual rules. I explain to them my take on it. Anyway, on my way back into the club with the stripper, at some point, she gives me a joint and I take a few hits. As I'm opening the door to the pool/hot tub area, I realize I have a huge erection (I did not have one when I woke up for the dream, so this may have been part of the dream. I always thought an erection in a dream was an erection in real life.) There's many people in the pools, I've got a bathing suit on, and I'm not willing to risk this embarrassment. I even try the dick-flip up move. It doesn't work. I tell the stripper I've got to to use the restroom. She non-nonchalantly yet somewhat condescendingly tell me ok or something (this shows my views of strippers). The halls to the restroom are dark and extensive. I realize a man with a flashlight is following me. I think it's a cop. This is when I realize I'm very high. I'm walking into rooms and realizing they aren't the restroom and walking out. The flashlight helps me see yet scares the shit out of me at the same time. Is it a cop? After wondering this, I turn and see the man and realize it's an African American bouncer at the club. He has a black shirt with some white writing on his left breast portion of his shirt, signifying the club or something. I'm not sure if he was helping me. I don't recall him speaking. I eventually find the restroom. The walls and stalls are painted greenish. The quality and grunginess is of an actual strip club. Not a good one, but like a BYOB, $25 cover full nude strip club. This one had that wet feeling of dripping pipes and such. And I again remember I'm high. As I begin pissing with my erection the urine is going somewhat all over the place. There is another man at the stall next to me. Either a Mexican or a light skinned black guy and he's looking over at me. I'm very scared and trying to keep it together. I run my hand along the wall and try to finish. I get the hell out of there. I find the plump black woman who was my friend and ask her to get me out of there. I know I haven't paid my tab to the stripper, but remember that maybe I have. Either way, I tell my friend that she has to act like she's already with me (as a stripper) so that I'm no longer discovered by the strippers, who will make me pay money. She has to hide me. Hence the black lacy dress that kind of shows her back and such. I remember making a jokingly comment to the affect that we should be fine pretending that she's a stripper because the way she dresses. She laughed. We start getting pretty flirty and at one point she may piggy-back onto my back as we head out to the car. At some point we run into SS again. He's got several hats on and is for whatever reason his presence is stopping me from passing. He's bragging about winning that game I spoke of earlier. I feel uncomfortable and I believe the dream moves on to Phase 2.

N, moving up in my phone list. It was like a fantasy football list or something. He (age 11) was either number 11 or 12 and his older brother TR (24) (my closest cousin in age and my childhood buddy at family events. We are still close to this day) was #11 or 12. So they both occupied either 11 or 12 on this numbered list that dominates phase 2 of the dream. I wanted to call N and tell him he was moving up on my list. And I remember feeling that I wanted to tell him that I loved him. I had made the phone call on my silver phone I used to use. I remember a man answering. I remember trying to figure out how I had made this call and determined I dialed N's cell phone from this list that went to 12. I also remember the list had the 11th and 12th names filled out (or slots filled out with names?) and nothing else above it. I wanted N higher on the list. The man who answered his cell phone was a fairly deep-voiced scholarly-sounding man who spoke on behalf of N. At some points it seemed as if he was almost calling him over there. I was feeling emotional. I realized I wasn't going to get to talk to him. He was at a school house. I believe with this man. I had no trouble explaining to the man to tell N that he was moving up on this list. But I started feeling emotional and wanted to explain to the man to go ahead and also tell him that I love him. It begins to stand out that N is currently side-by-side with TR on the list. (right now, I recall comparing some of my more recent debauchery with how TR has gotten "wilder" as of late and it made me feel better. This is the Tuesday after one particular incident I was not proud of. Though TR never would have done what I did, I felt better thinking about him as getting crazy of late.) So basically, there was some loose ends where I couldn't get my emotion out. Somewhere after this, it moves into phase 3. A school play type of thing where the stage singers are singing and the crowd sings back.

"Elect Sam Adams. You know the man he was a crook." "WAS A CROOK." Then my mind starts to wander about whether or not John Adams was defeated in his second attempt at the presidency and the fact that he lost to Sam Adams (some of the times in the song/story I was creating the name Sam Jackson was used). Neither of which is true and I know this, but it was running through my thoughts as the dream went on. The singing was very real. After "You know the man's a crook", the audience, a theatre one, about the size of a high school auditorium, sung back "WAS A CROOK". And so it went "Elect, Sam Adams, and you know the man's a crook" "WAS A CROOK!" The dream gets vivid and the images stray from the theatre and focus on a street with a light blue house. The imagery is very autumn-like. There are no cars. I believe it represented colonial time (I'm currently reading "The Founding Brothers" in the restroom), the song vividly playing as this image sits. At this point, my brain decides it's time to start writing down dreams (I remember thinking how I often dream good ideas and allow them to pass - the lyrics of this song were something I felt I needed to write down), and at the time I was thinking I was awake, lying down, fluttering between dream and awake. I have a blue felt tip pen and a greenish notepad (thinking, at the time, this was a particular oldish notepad I had in my childhood). I begin writing. The first line goes fine "Elect Sam Adams, I said you know the man's a crook." The second line, I'm about to write the same line again, doesn't go quite as smoothly. The first couple words were fine on the second line. However, things get difficult. This may have been physical. As I was awakening, you know, as I'm trying to more further emulate writing, my hand is actually hard to move, as I am lying face-down in bed. I see an image of that pad with a neat line and one extremely messy. I get fairly distraught, I believe, and I'm almost awake. That's when I feel it. And I'll call it Phase 4.

I hear my name (I now have tears in my eyes as I write this). It's a woman's voice. I remember thinking that it was my mom trying to wake me up. I feel a hand on my buttocks. Not in any sort of sexual way. Just softly touching it enough to tell me "wake up" in a very gentle manner. I hear another voice. It was my sister's this time. The hand on my buttocks. Either again, or it's been there the whole time. The voices were so vivid and real. Not as in vivid and real within a dream. There WERE vivid and WERE real. Something touched me and soft sounds entered my ears. I believe I thought at this point I was home (which is funny because lately I described one of my latest debaucheries being caused by the fact that I haven't had a solid home in 7 years. I've literally moved every time one of my leases ended since college started. And I moved another extra time when I got robbed. And I only lived with my sister for a few months, without a lease. Also the imagery involved with the N phone call was very real and home-like. The man who answers possibly represents some sort of all-knowing teacher. The blue house with the autumn feelings in phase 3 really had a feeling of home. My childhood home, as did the note pad. Home and childhood.)

So, as I feel this hand on my buttocks or thigh area and hear the very soft voices of the two women in my life, Mom and my sister, I wake up. I was extremely emotional. It was exactly how people describe when they have some sort of calling, out of body experience, touched by God, or an Angel, or found Jesus sort of thing. It's truly incredible. I mean I immediately felt this is what had happened to me tonight. And one thing people always emphasize is "and I was not afraid". It's exactly like that. Even though you felt someone touching you and saying your name and, after you wake up, you're really at home by yourself in your room, you are not afraid. Not in the least bit. My initial reaction was to believe that was a religious experience, and I'm not now saying it wasn't that. This was, in fact, the most religious experience I've ever had. But what really felt good was when I asked myself "why then was it a woman's voice" and answered myself that it must be that some sort of Angel. It felt so good to view my mother in that light. As I fight back tears at this moment, thinking my mother is my angel, it just feels so damn good. She's an Angel on this earth and she's been with me from day one. She is the only thing in this world that actually loves me. And it is extremely unconditional. Trust me, if it had conditions, it would be gone by now.

At first, I couldn't help but feel the responsibility that comes with this type of event happening to people. They "turn their lives around" and become extremely religious. You hear all sorts of things of that nature. I remember telling myself that I could see myself letting this sort of thing go to waste. I would be the first person in the history of religious experiences in which my laziness and procrastination would actually defeat the experience. Then the purpose came into play. And it's something I've been fighting a losing battle with since as long as I can remember. It was about moderation. That sounds simple and like the easy way out, but that's all it is. I talked with my mother on the phone last night for 2 hours and she tried to preach to me to just moderate myself. Have some control. I told her, being honest, that I really don't know how to do that. I have two gears. On and off. Extremely high and extremely low. I'm either cheap or I spend every dime I have. I'm either angry or the nicest guy in the world. I'm either depressed or in a great mood. You get the idea. I don't know what causes these things, but I've got to find a middle gear. I have full understanding that I've got to meet God, Jesus, my mother, my sister whoever, halfway. I also need a home. This doesn't mean a house. This doesn't mean any specific sort of roof over my head. I'm fine where I am. It means I need stability. I need to realize that just because I'm floating around doesn't mean my actions won't follow me. Some may say it shouldn't require a religious experience to tell me these things, but I'm not like some. I'm not like most. I'm probably not like any. Call it arrogant, but it's true. And this on-off switch thing was going to kill me. It was already killing my soul. You can tell this message has been trying to tear its way out of my heart in some of my previous posts that take a serious note. I tried to analyze myself or chastise myself for some of my actions. That I had lost myself. I tried to reconcile with my writing, but wasn't strong enough to do anything about it on my own. God, I pray this moment actually sticks with me. I've been waiting for one of these since I was a little kid, and it actually came exactly when it comes for anyone else I've heard tell similar stories - it comes exactly when you need it most.