Dearest Rachel –
Not that you’re dealing with anything like this these days, I’m sure, but did you ever experience something that essentially proved to be the opposite of what you were promised? I think that rather sums up my last night, right down to the dreams therein.
I might as well reverse gears for a moment and give you a little background to it all; I’m not sure it will help, but it may explain a little bit about how I got where I was by the time I regained consciousness. Yesterday morning I’d been expecting Kris over to do the monthly cleaning. She had other clients to visit, and therefore needed to show up a bit earlier than usual; about eight o’clock. Not a big deal for me, except that I was feeling the need to hit the gym, having skipped going there the day before because I’d been walking with Lars (yes, I know that’s still exercise, but my body and mind will occasionally argue about the efficacy of one over the other). In order to get that workout in, and be clean and decent by the time Kris showed up, I was essentially awake and out the door at a little after four. From there, everything worked out (pardon the pun) according to plan.
That being said, though, by yesterday evening, I was getting pretty tired pretty early as well. Since the boys were hanging out in the family room watching anime together, it was of no consequence if I were to fall asleep in the bedroom watching something myself (or not). And that’s basically how everything shook out; I’m not even sure I lasted long enough to see nine o’clock in the evening, let alone the ten-thirty you and Daniel used to give me grief about back in the day.
Anyway, here’s where some of the ‘not as advertised’ stuff comes into play. Once I get myself particularly comfortable, to the point where I’m pretty sure I’m going to nod off, I don’t want to be falling asleep watching something I’d actually want to be paying attention to. Fortunately, there are plenty of channels that offer a black screen and soothing music, specifically designed for one to fall asleep to. Some claim to be attuned to certain frequencies, in order to align one’s chakras or something like that, if you believe in that sort of thing. Not generally my speed, but sometimes, the algorithm only calls up the weirdest sort of options like that. Anyway, the one that came up offered a “full body detox” thanks to it applying “all nine solfeggio frequencies,” which sounds like gobbledygook to me, but what do I know? I set it up, and lay down to sleep.
I don’t know what any of this music is supposed to do, or even if it can. When I set myself to sleep, I’m just hoping that it can drown out whatever’s playing in the family room, to be honest, so that I can focus on going to sleep. And even if I do get to sleep more quickly, I’m not sure the music deserves as much credit as all that, considering how early I’d been up, and all I’d put myself through (I actually did an extra half hour on the treadmill yesterday, since I’d gotten there with so much time before Kris would be showing up).
Regardless of the cause, I was out cold so successfully that I don’t even remember whether Daniel poked his head in or not when Logan went upstairs for the night, so as to bid me goodnight. I did leave the bedroom door open (not intentionally, but that’s what happens sometimes), and I have a vague recollection of being startled, which might have because he stopped by, but that was so early on in the evening but I can’t remember the specifics.
What I do remember is a dream sequence that had me in a place that I somehow knew was known as The Quiet Chapel in Glasgow – a place that I don’t even know whether it exists in real life. I mean, I’m sure there are chapels in every major European city – most of them have cathedrals all over the place, so a chapel would be a simple matter. Meanwhile, chapels are by their very nature supposed to be quiet places; but somehow this was specifically known as The Quiet Chapel, as if it were particularly famous for being so. It seemed to be part of a larger installation – maybe on a campus of a university or something like that – so that you entered it through a hallway, which is to say you are already inside before you went inside this place.
For some strange reason, there were admonitions painted on the walls outside of the Chapel making sure that certain specific people knew to be on their best behavior inside; certain clans were addressed directly, including clan Randal (one ‘L,’ so I take no responsibility for their actions), which I found mildly amusing. Not that I have any clue as to whether a Scottish clan by the name of Randall exists; it probably doesn’t, in fact, because if it was as infamously rowdy as the painted sign outside the Chapel would indicate, you’d think we would have heard of it in real life.
By the way, the fact that this was set in Glasgow is probably due to my mind being preoccupied with the upcoming trip that I’ve been telling you about in drips and drabs here and there. Consider it another clue as to where and when we’re going and the like; I’m sure I’ll be dropping a lot more hints along the way, if you’re interested in looking for them. By the time I’m at this or that place and telling you about it, you can let me know if you already guessed I’d be there.
That’s not the only way in which real life was seeping into this dream. Upon entering the candlelit grotto that was the chapel, I could hardly think for the rather loud organ music that filled the room. My dream self, while not saying anything out loud to such effect (even though I’m not a member of ‘clan Randal,’ I still felt called out by the sign outside; while it didn’t say it explicitly, it had a certain “this means you” vibe about it, and I was going to do my level best not to violate it), thought it rather odd for a place with a reputation for being so quiet to be so loud in person. Maybe the name was an ironic one, like calling the biggest guy in your friend circle “Tiny”? It wasn’t until later, when I got nearer to consciousness, that it occurred to me that it was the music of the YouTube channel seeping into my dream; so much for being a sleep aid. It ultimately proved to be rather the opposite, although it might have been because it had nothing else to cover up anymore, so it felt like it was that much louder all of a sudden.
But before that moment when consciousness broke the spell of the dream completely, I think I saw you there, at a mezzanine table (which also seemed odd, in my immediate opinion. A chapel would have seats or pews; why was there a section with tables, where people would gather… and talk?). And indeed, you were talking with my grandmother and great-aunt Belva; about what, I wasn’t close enough to hear (and the room was cacophonous enough that I would have to get very close to do so). I may have eventually gotten your attention, but by then, everything was starting to dissolve, and I was just about to wake up…
…to a terrific back ache. Any claims on the part of the music broadcast to align my chakras or something like that proved to be just so much nonsense as far as I was concerned. You know that old phrase about being “light as a feather, stiff as a board”? Well I got the second half of that expression right; my back was suddenly quite insistent that I had done something very wrong throughout the night. I tried to pacify it by sitting up straight in bed, and attempting to not off for another hour or two in a vastly different position – and I even succeeded – but it still wasn’t happy when I finally decided to get up for the day. Oddly enough, it seemed to be okay with my morning workout; by the time I was done with that – as well as running twenty minutes worth of hot water over it – it seemed to relent in terms of inflicting pain on me, but boy, it really wasn’t happy with me at first.
I guess I’ll have to figure out a different way to fall asleep tonight (and presumably thereafter), but for now, as I go about my waking hours, I may as well ask you to continue to keep your eye on me, and wish me luck, as I’m going to need it. Take care, honey.
Letters to Rachel 