Dreams

This morning I survived a plane crash that landed in the jungle of Ecuador. A couple dozen more people survived with me and dubbed me their leader. We had three crates of champagne and 5,000 miles to Los Angeles. After surviving the crash, our group needed entertainment in order to get our minds off the horrific incident. The champagne helped numb the pain and lighten our mood.

As we journeyed north not only did we get physically closer to our destination, but also metaphorically closer as people. An arduous journey became a raucous party. We danced, sang, stopped at small towns to drink its beer and eat its food. We had the time of our lives. Until we hit the high desert of northern Mexico, less than 100 miles from the border. Our group had unexpectedly marched into a large minefield. The explosions rang in our ears as the ground below us evaporated and we started to fall into the abyss. Then, I woke up. My alarm blasting, the same noise super villains have when there is an intruder in the base.

I rolled out of bed, stumbled to my desk, hit the snooze button, and jumped back into bed, hoping to be transported back to the dream world. Despite the fact that my group seemed to be falling to its inevitable death, I wanted to get back to them. I was their leader, and I had to do something to save them. There is a comfort in dreams, even the bad ones. Anything is possible in dreams and even the ones that feel real end with waking up to realize it was just a dream. It is a nice break from the struggles of life, where every little moment matters. Where we face problems that we have no control over. Where actions can have long lasting consequences. And worst of all, we’re faced with the limitations of our mortality.

I’m an infamous snoozer. My current record is nine, and for anyone who isn’t familiar with snoozing that is 81 minutes between the initial alarm and actually getting up. Needless to say, I did not get to work on time that day. Good thing LA has a great built in excuse of terrible traffic to blame.

One reason that I snooze is being too tired to get out of bed, but another is to get back in bed to dream. Whether it is one of my best dreams, such as being rogue vigilante hero who protects the city or getting to spend some intimate time with one of the Women I Love. Or one of my awful dream, such as one from last week where I was wrongfully accused of murder and put on trial for my life. I woke up before the jury delivered its verdict, but I was very charming on the witness stand so I’d like to believe I got off.

I still prefer to be dreaming because there is a comfort in the dream world that I rarely feel in the real one. It is the sense of immortality that feels the most comforting. Even when a dream does something to me that I do not like, I still enjoy the feeling of breaking all metaphysical and biological laws. And sometimes, just before I wake up, it feels like it is going to last forever. We all have dreams, both while we’re sleeping and awake. As much as I enjoy saving the city, leading a group of survivors, or spending some intimate time with 1996 Tiffani Amber Theissen, my greatest dream is to wake up and never want to hit snooze again.

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