Sunday, December 07, 2003

Hello darkness my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again.
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seed while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains

- Sound of Silence; Simon & Garfunkel

I have a cohesive four part dream. I wake once early, then sleep a little more. Most mornings I do that. The four-part harmony, I know I can bring that back.

In the dream of my brief resleep, I am cognizant of the earlier comprehensive story of my night. The continuation now has me driving over the mountains, the actual Highway 17 which separates our seacoast from the big city to the north.

I see Nolan Ashmore, walking beside the road. I think, okay, I have conveyed, and this grows very tricky, the progression over this mountain as one of the four concessions. (Nolan Ashmore was an assistant football coach who lived in my neighborhood while I was in high school, and he became a principal of the high school when I left. I had no direct connection with him as coach, teacher, prinicipal. It's hard to imagine anyone less connected with me from my high school days.)

I think, as part of the deal I have made with society, I should give Nolan a ride. I look for a place to turn around and go back. I do. It's miles before I am back, then heading north again, then finding a spot to pull off so Nolan can hop in. I have my family with me.

The earlier, intricate dream is utterly lost to me.

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