On Dreaming (#20)

This will be my 199th post. It's not surprising that it will be a short one about dreams. It could have been longer, and a review of a film I watched two days ago. Unfortunately, I procrastinated. Also, it is late, and I am bloated from the sushi and peach cobbler. Finally, I am six episodes into an anime series I have not seen before. Since they are only twenty minutes long, I want to complete a few more before bed.

This is a far superior version
of what my students used for a coat rack. 

It all began when I walked into a room. Along, wide one, with a huge table in the middle, surrounded by cheap chairs made of plastic and metal. At the far end was a kitchen area, including a refrigerator. Between the two areas, against the opposite wall, stood an empty, wooden coat rack. Just like the ones found in the school where I taught. The place felt like a teacher's lounge born in the seventies, but transported to the present. The colors, textures, and forms all felt distant and neglected.

Into this world I entered, alone. Soon, I found myself walking the length of the table, towards the kitchen area, drawn by something. A meeting, perhaps. I cannot recall. However, I knew I was meant to be there. When I reached the empty area between the table and the fridge, people started to arrive, making their own way towards me.

There were around a dozen of them, but I only recognized three who ended up near me. One was John Lennon. He walked about the whole time. Another was Janis Joplin. She sat at the end of the table nearest me. The last one was Bob Dylan. He stood leaning against the coat rack. Although I could not recognize the others, I sensed this room was filled with famous musicians and artists. It was a strong feeling.

The next feeling was just as overwhelming. Although I was the first to arrive, and stood some where prominently, no one acknowledged my presence. Not a look, nor a greeting. Instead, I was being pushed aside. Not violently, but like a piece of furniture that was in the way.

So, I grew angry. It became clear to me, in the dream, that this was an important meeting. But it was not about music. It had to do with civil rights, or something urgent. These celebrities were trying to be a part of some movement. But I knew more than them, and I was there first. Yet, they ignored me, and found places at the table, spending the time talking amongst themselves.

Well, I did something that at first appeared childish. Frustrated with everyone, thinking them all pretentious grandstanders, I dropped to the floor, curled up into a ball, and remained still. I could not see things clearly, but I could still hear. They continued to talk and walk about, nudging my mass closer to the coat rack. But I did not make a sound. Apparently, that caught their attention, and they started to talk, not to me, but about me. Lennon seemed the most annoyed, while Joplin appeared indifferent. I grew defiant, grabbing tighter to myself. It was an act of protest, and I was daring them to engage. I was certain I had every right to be there, to be acknowledged. I belonged in that room. They were the outsiders. 

Although I could not see it, because all my muscles had clenched so tightly, including my eyes, I could sense it. Eventually, with all that pushing, my body reached the coat rack. That is when I realized someone was standing next to me and looking down. It was Dylan. He was speaking to the group. Whatever he was saying sounded sympathetic to my plight. Finally, some recognition. But it did not change anyone's minds. And soon Dylan retreated back into his solitude.

At that moment, I had a thought. What if, in fact, I was dying. And, in order to save my life, all that was needed, in a room full of famous people, was for one of them to walk over to me, and check my pulse. Then I laughed. I pictured the paramedics and police arriving to discover a dead body, and each of these fools trying to explain why they did not bother to check up on the poor soul curled up on the floor, lifeless, in their midst. All while in a meeting about changing peoples' lives. 

Finally, the dream turned to black, and I woke up.