The Jungle Gym

It was common for kids to play on the elementary school playground after school. One day when the playground was rather empty, as it was already a couple hours after school had recessed for the day, Steve M, Scotty D and I were playing on the jungle gym.

We would race up the grey metal parallel bars of the jungle gym and, upon reaching the top, slide down the pole in the center of the structure and repeat the activity over and over.

On one of those races to the top of the jungle gym, I suddenly froze, my eyes wide open and my voice momentarily halted. In front of me were a myriad collection of lights and colors, largely circular but connected in a tenuous cloud or network of veins. Several seconds passed as this strange object, if it can be called such, wavered from six to twelve inches from in front of my face. Finally, I broke out of my disbelief, let out a cry and swung quickly down the pole. I landed, ran to the grass and looked wildly around, my heart pounding in my chest but there was nothing to see.

What has always struck me odd about this situation is that, simultaneously, my two companions yelled something as well and ran over to where I was on the grass with a similar startled look on their faces and an identical tale.

Perhaps it was all just caused by afterimages from looking at the sun or its reflection. Perhaps it was caused by dehydration, a sudden drop in blood pressure or glucose level. I can not say for sure but find it odd that such an occurrence could take place and manifest itself in a manner identical for three boys at the same time.

It is an event which has always stayed with me and seemed somehow significant.

The Alien Invasion

Once, when I was very young, I dreamed that I was with my parents and fellow kindergarten classmates and their parents in one of the kindergarten classrooms, waiting, waiting for the aliens.

The school was Sunkist Elementary, located on Sunkist Street in Anaheim, California. From Sunkist Street, you would enter a driveway and drive in a half circle to another driveway to exit. In the front, at the midpoint of the half circle was a rectangular concrete slab that read “Sunkist School”. To the left were playgrounds and to the right, parking lots for the teachers. Directly behind the concrete sign was a fence surrounding an asphalted area and beyond that, two sets of sliding glass doors a bit like one might have in their backyard. These were the two kindergarten classrooms. Mine was the one on the right should you happen to be standing facing the school.

In my dream, it was a still night and very foggy, not uncommon as Anaheim is fairly close to the ocean. But this fog was heavier than usual and oddly lit. There were of course the street lights but that did not completely explain the glow that emanated from the fog. It was this something else for which each of us was waiting in silence as we sat still, looking out the glass doors of the kindergarten room. We knew, somehow, that aliens had landed but none of us knew anything else. We did not know what to expect. There was only the fog and the knowledge that there was something beyond it. We could only wait.

Damn good cup of coffee

I had a decidedly odd day which began last night. The drug that I am on seems to elicit a good bit of dream activity while I sleep and last night was no exception.

I have noticed that much of my dream activity incorporates themes or thoughts that I happen to be dwelling upon during the day or that evening, all pretty typical.

This particular evening, I had been thinking about a government job opportunity for which I am being considered that would be located up in Portland. I think that I have a good chance at it and am hopeful that I will be one of the candidates to be interviewed. The job has a starting pay in the six figure range and so it certainly appeals to me. Since it is located up in Portland, I began to think of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks and found myself playing the theme music in my head before bedtime. I recall having a great deal of dream activity about the woods and forests, cool and cloudy weather and then I also had a great many images of my last girlfriend, Heather, who I have been missing a good bit lately and who was from Seattle. Thus the theme of the Northwest was on my mind a great deal.

When I awoke, it was still dark out with low clouds. A coyote cried in the distance.

My bedroom window looks out upon a hillside full of trees and so, as I sat in bed, I looked below. It was mysterious outside, the mist hanging about the trees, dawn just beginning to make inroads on the dark of night. It was ominous yet somehow inviting to me. Perhaps because I am part of that darkness and feel a harkening to it. I thought about Heather and felt sad and also felt sad about feeling out of place. A place like Twin Peaks would probably be perfect for me, a town full of quirky people. I could imagine myself in a dark booth at the Bookhouse, listening to Julee Cruise singing something sad and ethereal, a few couples dancing slowly under the subdued lights. Leaving later, I button my jacket against the chill from a wind that is very different from my home. But, then again, where is my home, really.

Business in Vancouver

Having arrived from Los Angeles, the final month of summer in Vancouver felt more like autumn to me. Perhaps it was the dramatic transition in weather that provoked thoughts of change for my self.

As the taxi drove me from the airport, down unfamiliar streets and unfamiliar landmarks, I found myself staring out the window of the cab and wishing that I could somehow cast my soul out from the taxi, into this strange landscape to land in the body of another.

I thought, “Wouldn’t it be nice to suddenly be someone else, someone different from whom I am.”

I imagined what it would be like to be George, the florist, Micheal, the butcher, or Steve, the attorney, just now staring out from the balcony of his apartment complex overlooking the harbor, as my taxi passed by below him.

It might not settle any of my existing problems. It may even create new ones. Still, it would be a change. Sometimes, change, whether it is good or bad, is ultimately what we need, what we crave in lives that have become tiresome, meaningless and without hope.