Dream Diary: The kayak

This dream was pretty off the wall and confusing. I don’t even remember the exact beginning. But from what the point I can remember: I was on a railway, in the woods. The trees were full of green leaves, the soil damp and the sky was overcast. A covered wagon came by on the rails (running on it’s own steam, no livestock) and I hopped aboard, because why not. I’m a long way from anywhere. Hiding in the wagon among the boxes and barrels were two Old West prostitutes. I was also wearing a long skirt. They were trying to escape from something and didn’t want to be seen.

As we approached a bridge over a river and ‘zombie whore’ ran up to the wagon. I have dreams about zombies often enough that it’s not really alarming anymore. She was clawing at one of the girls. I yelled that we need to jump off and get to the river. Zombies can’t swim (who knew?). I scrambled down the dirt bank, but nobody followed. I jumped into the icy water and tried to swim against the swirling rapids. My clothes dragged me down, but I managed to make some headway. I saw a man pass me in a wooden kayak and kept thinking that I needed one too. Then I had one, but it was partially sunk as I paddled up the river. I was drenched.

Somehow I made it “home”. The house was on the river. It was early morning. I had been up before everyone else and on the river. My mom was in the kitchen drinking coffee. I went upstairs to my bedroom and took off all the wet clothes. The bright overcast clouds lit up the room. The room was monochromatic grays and whites. The bed was right beneath a window that stretched up to the ceiling, no curtains.

He was still in bed. I was freezing from the cold water and my hair was damp. After drying off with a towel I got in bed to warm up. The white sheets were crisp and clean as he pulled them over our heads. A fort of white that expanded in all directions, sort of heavenly. A laugh. Those sweet, tender kisses you steal when you’re still uncertain about someone, but they feel good so you want to keep stealing them. Four. Then I’m on the move again.

I have to be somewhere. I had been up on the river early training. Now I needed to go register for the Olympic kayaking try-outs. I remember passing through hallways, receiving a lanyard ID pass. I smiled and shook hands with other people. I had a reputation for being good for a rookie. They thought I would have no problem. I watched other kayakers on the course with their paddling and spinning. The water frothed up on the rapids. Then a loud noise woke me up and I wished I had managed to find my way back to my dream bed.


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