Room 354

Dearest Rachel –

I think that the first time I visited you at your parents’ house down in Macomb, I had to deal with a long freight train as it cut through town while I made my way down Jackson Street (the ‘main drag’ of town) in order to get there. So it seems appropriate that, in one of the last nights dream scenes, I found myself picking my way through a network of train tracks – almost like a railroad depot – in order to make my way back to Jackson Street so I could walk the rest of the way there. A loud horn from an approaching train spurred me to hurry to the other side, so I wouldn’t get held up amidst the crisscross labyrinth of tracks any longer than I had to.

Now, I’d begun walking around town first thing in the morning long before Lars and I started our regular weekly meetings. After I was able to retire from the workfarce, I felt like I had to time to put in this kind of exercise from time to time, since I hadn’t elsewhere to be in the mornings anymore, despite being well-conditioned to get up so much earlier that you or Daniel. If I woke up organically with a suitably large amount of time before I would expect either of you two to do so, I would toss on something suitably casual, and wander around several blocks, not unlike if we were walking the dog (although it seemed that Chompers, sleeping on your side of the bedroom, adopted your sleep schedule). I’d even done it a couple of times when we visited your hometown as you made efforts to settle your parents’ estate (and sign over the house to Twofeathers), and while I never walked as far as the courthouse and the center square of town, I did get as far as the railroad tracks on several occasions. So this wasn’t outside the bounds of reality.

What did strain credulity was the fact that the buildings that I thought I recognized along the way all contained that eldritch architecture that one eventually comes to expect of dreams. I found myself entering a gas station mini-mart, for whatever reason, only to find that it opened out into a hallway that was connected to every other business along the street. It right reminded me of that storefront we went into in Kilkenny, Ireland that turned into the entrance of a mall, that pretty much covered the entire block of store fronts. If that’s the way they build them in the UK, it’s no wonder they came up with the idea of the TARDIS, which is known far and wide for being ‘bigger on the inside.’

More on that in a moment; for now, my next (inadvertent) stop was an electronics shop. Here, I ran into a teenager (or maybe a college student) with a shirt basically announcing that, if you weren’t vaccinated, not to even so much as talk to him. Since I’d gotten my first two shots, I saw no harm in greeting him, although I couldn’t help but ask how many were required to do so. He responded as college students are wont to do, with an expletive, and storming off. You know, kids go to college allegedly to get smart; they don’t seem to like it when people get smart with them. Or maybe it’s just the dream.

In any event, I was then approached by an older gentleman – well, older than me – who I assumed to be the young man’s father, especially since he immediately began apologizing for the younger man’s behavior. I expressed my appreciation for his concern, but also waved it off. This was Macomb, after all, not Portland or Berkeley; while I haven’t seen those places firsthand, I know full well that these places, where things are so much worse, exist. Just getting an apology, if only from a family member (indeed, imagine family members in places like those!) was a giant step up.

Anyway, I eventually found myself near to what was supposed to be my destination, although this was nothing like your home. Indeed, it felt more like I was wandering the dingy halls of a decrepit old hospital, looking for the room where your parents were staying, like when we visited over the holidays in late 2016, after your father’s first stroke. I arrived at a polygonal hub, with doors numbered from 350 to 353, but somehow I knew I was looking for room 354, which had to be beyond this place. Eventually I realized one of the doors led to a hall, as it listed a number of names of ostensible patients – including your father, who (as you know) has been gone for six years.

Upon seeing his name, the room number, and making the connection, the scene immediately dissolved.

***

Yet another scene had me dreaming of being asleep in bed – talk about dreams being overly literal! – only in a reasonably nice, spacious hotel room. I’m guessing we must have been at one convention or another (it had been a topic of conversation last night at dinner with the girls, particularly between Erin and Logan), because people (virtually all female) kept coming into the room for one reason or another, and I had to cover myself up with the blankets and bedsheets at the constant interruptions. It seems that, in keeping with your gregarious and generous nature, you were meeting people as you wandered through the in the halls, many of whom needed either a place to crash or just to store stuff, and you were more than happy to offer our room.

I know this because eventually, you turned up to explain as much to me, with a slightly fearful look on your face that said “I hope you’re not too mad at me for doing that,” especially as the place began to pile up with both stuff and sleepers.

Of course, given how long it’s been since I’ve seen you last (and when that was, you were an unconscious wreck), you could turn my life completely upside down and I wouldn’t mind. I said as much to you as I hugged you in welcome, all the while realizing you had no idea why I was reacting so. After all, you were alive in that moment, and had always been so; you had no idea that I’d been living the past two years after your death already.

But of course, the moment couldn’t last. Just the fact that you didn’t understand why I was so overjoyed that you were there, making so much trouble and inconvenience, when I shouldn’t be expected to be, was enough to create a disconnect between the two of us that caused the scene to evaporate even as we embraced. Such are dreams, I suppose.

I suppose, if nothing else, I’m still appreciative for the material. I went to bed thinking that what I had it mind to write about literally couldn’t be published (unless I could post it on the internet without anyone finding out about it); this, I can tell you – and the wider world – about without fear.

I hope to see you again in my dreams soon enough, honey. Until then, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.