I wrote the stuff below when I woke up one morning in Vieques. I was pretty delirious when I wrote it, still half asleep, but purposefully, willfully writing like I do for my lucid dreaming exercises at home. It was such an intense dream, I’d call it a nightmare.
You can tell by my tone at the end that I was pretty bummed out after writing this. I remember I went back to sleep as the sun was coming up, but having spewed out this dream in one big flurry, I was now wide awake, and so I woke up and went swimming.
Anyway, I posted this up here after changing some names. If I get permission, I’ll change names so people know who they are….
There are some grammatical errors, but editing would not be appropriate here.
I woke up this morning from a vivid dream. I had been accused, while working at Bug Music, by GV. (a friend of mine) of not doing any of my work for a whole year. She had reported me to the government somehow, and I was summonsed to a trial In front of all my peers. I was livid, having worked very hard there and not understanding why she would be saying such things. I went to defend myself but everybody seemed to believe her, which made me more mad. Official government people, my mother, sister, brother, co workers, all materialized before me to say I was some lazy bastard who deserved to be fired, or worse. The dream seemed to bring in those people whose judgement means the most to me, but that I’ve lost contact with. Like my late grandmother, or my uncle KQ who we don’t really talk to anymore. They all seemed to be hovering around somehow, quietly convinced that the accusations were true.
So, in the dream I head to where this hearing or trial is…..and right before I enter, I’m suddenly transported to a market called bi-rite (closed recently), right down the street from my high school. A couple of my old marching band buddies are there, camera in hand, to ask me details about what I did and what I was going to do with my time in prison.
I told them the charges were bullshit, and to fuck off, but they put on airs of superiority, and mocked me, pointing fingers, and were very angry with me, as if they were ashamed of being even from the same high school.
Then people who were really close to me, like my little brother, started asking me if the charges were accurate. If I had been lazy at work, or if it was true that for years I had been eeking by, doing as little as possible. My mother started telling me to let her know what I’d done, and when I told her nothing, she didn’t believe me. she seemed to just be hoping that whatever I did, wasn’t that terrible. My aunt GP who we are also close to, came out and pointed fingers as well as my sister and again my late grandmother. All of them seemed so ashamed of me, and I remember thinking in the dream, “It doesn’t matter what I’ve done, I’ve already been judged. I’d already been through the worst, let’s just go and see what it was all about.”
In the dream, this was all happening in this big noisy chaotic procession, with all my family around me, mocking, pointing, some children laughing at me, and strangers wondering and throwing around theories on what i had done, or what work it was that I seemed to have not done. It seemed a big theme of the dream was that I was accused of not working, not doing my job well, at Bug Music. I couldn’t believe this, and was already somehow checking my email DONE folder, which shows a day to day of all my tasks that are actually completed. This is something I’ve done since working at a tax firm back in 05 or so, and finding it was the easiest way to substantiate my work flow. I was ready to face my accusers, and redeem myself in front of all those important people, and thought “let’s do this.”
So in the dream I ran. I ran to the hearing, or courthouse or whatever it was. In the dream, it seemed to remind me if the gym at the Cypress Park rec center in my neighborhood. I went in defiantly, confident in my innocence, and a clear proof and record of my work ready to even show off a bit at how hard I work, and how organized I am in my work.
I got up there, in front of all the most important people ever, and suddenly, this was a drug case. Confused, I asked what this was all in regards to, and the judge mentioned something like “This stems from a matter in 1983” and right away I knew I’d beat it. In my dream, I did a little quick math, which I thought was impossible until today, and said confidently “in 1983 i was 8 years old. I didn’t work at bug music then, and I never tried drugs until I was about 15 years old. You are wrong. Also I want everybody to know that I take great pride in my work, and I would never do anything like that. I would leave a job before getting that lazy or being that unhappy.”
And just like that, this satisfied the judge. I as obvious to everybody in the courtroom/basketball gym that I was completely exonerated, and they all milled out. Nobody expressed any happiness at my innocence, they all just walked out, and I never go to know that my grandmother knew of my innocence, which seemed to be the most important thing about the whole dream.
A couple of things that were really weird, when I woke up, I woke up still stressed from the dream, but the Pink Floyd song “the trial” was in my head, and it seemed to describe what I went through in to a t. I was like I was waking up to the end credits music of a kafkaesque story adapted to film. I even thought that Kafka’s “The Trial” has a lot to do with this dream. Also, my father wasn’t there, and now I’m wondering if that means that his judgement on me doesn’t matter, not cause he passed away, but because I knew that whatever I did, even if I went to prison for a decade, he wouldnt care. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Not that he would be indifferent, but that he could relate to this having been in prison himself, and that he wouldn’t judge me as others would having actually gone through it himself in real life. It’s strange that I thought of this so much right after waking up, because he wasn’t even in the dream at all. I just felt it.
This was an interesting feeling because the reasoning seemed to be that since he had gone to prison twice in his life, I didn’t have to be ashamed in front of him for going to prison myself. So he didn’t even make an appearance, probably because he doesn’t weigh on my conscience as much as say my sister, brother, or of course my mother. When I do really well at something, sometimes I think “My dad would be really proud of this” but it’s not like I have to face it in real life.
I think this may stem from the fact that I’m on vacation right now for the first time in a long time. As long as I’ve had vacation time, I’ve always used it to be as productive as I could, so I would use it for band functions, or take days off here and there to handle business in town.
This is the las day of my stay on Vieques island, and I woke up to a beautiful sunrise really stressed out, even thinking I had WASTED 5 days of vacation. Like a weird guilt for relaxing. I’m still feeling it. It’s pretty bad….so bad, I don’t know if I’ll be able to take another vacation like this for a while. I’ll probably be over it in a few minutes, but right now it’s pretty intense.
Well, uh, Good morning?!