Last night, I had an intensely vivid, real dream.
I remember the last time I had something similar: I was about seven, living somewhere in the world, and it was before christmas. I dreamt that I had gone downstairs and there, under the tree — unwrapped, as is the way of dreams — was the most magnificent train set I’d ever seen, just WAITING for me. (in waking hindsight, of course, I knew i had no interest in trains, not really, not hugely, and so it must have been all dream). i woke up and rushed downstairs, so convinced by the reality of the dream and the happiness therein, and was crushingly disappointed to find out that it had only been a dream after all.
It was like that, but no train set. in my dream, I kissed my wife and kids good-bye, took my travel bag and my denim coat, and boarded an airplane. It was a small plane (when I dream of planes, they’re always small, very-nearly-seaplanes. this isn’t tough to figure out, really). I was heading to england.
the plane stopped for a layover in Elko, Nevada, where i got off and went and spent a bit of time with friends, catching up. Then, worried I’d missed my flight (I couldn’t read my flight ticket. My wife, who was in elko as well, could) but realized I hadn’t, got back to the plane and flew on. Arriving in England, I disembarked from the plane into a place which was manifestly not the National Art Gallery, but served that purpose in my dream. I wandered the place, looking at paintings and sculptures and enjoying myself no end, then went down a great set of stairs and out into a cobblestone square, heading for the busy-ness of London.
And then I woke up. When I woke up, I realized that for the first time in ages — since a fluke when he was quite small — Nathan had let me sleep entirely through the night. I had woken up because I was ready, not because of him, or the alarm.
I awoke melancholy and haunted by the dream. It’s a bit more inexplicable this time, more complex an emotion than missing a train set. Haunted not because I’m not about to take a trip to London but because, I suppose, the dream is not real, and I’m saddened by it.
Love & Cinnamon black tea