Waking Up
Most of the time, I can’t remember my dreams. I remember a lot, but I’ve forgotten a lot more. And each day as my life gets more and more complicated, I want to dream more and more, and stay in my dreams for longer. I don’t want to know that I’m dreaming. I want to fall into a dream and never wake up. No, I don’t want to die. I just want to dream… and keep dreaming. I hope tonight’s a good night. I hope I have good dreams. I don’t even mind the bad ones; as long as they’re dreams they can’t hurt me. But then… I don’t want to know that they’re dreams. And if I don’t know I’m dreaming, how will I know whether I can be hurt or not? You can feel pain in dreams. After all, pain is in the head, and that’s where dreams are, too. So I don’t want to have bad dreams. Good ones. Just good ones. Do I? I can feel pain. No, no I can’t. But I can. No. Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so/just fall asleep, deep, deep asleep/far away… now it seems as though they’re here to/ride, she’s got a ticket to/I’ve got to wake up early tomorrow/don’t worry about that, just go to sleep/ri-i-ide, she’s got a ticket to/have I set the alarm? Yes, you have/yes, I have/yes, you/I/you/I//\\*&what time have I set it for/gotten to set the alarm/no, Iyou hasn’t/far away into my sleep/into ky dreams, into ky ve#y own world/this pillow’s uncomfynamousli/ousli/ousli/what’s the w0rd>/pi/slllleeeeppp/22/7/’twas brilli)(&**&x~~~~/aaaaa/knaidhgohnn/alaaa/lkddogh/rm/slleep/sllep/dree-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEm/oj0hkvnhdhoytakdhkkajdijkjfladjladkvnhfauejjfhdfiahdjgj/falafel/to hi~~~/shshshshhh/oh, I belie-/choolakdgehedbkbvkoiuythbaiedkvbdgaid-jahkjvgidfyafnlbvoiagfiaiefpodayg97t9843575hgoua86hdfifuf 86tq3hhfgv&&^&hog97f94h%&*^598h94tGIUGotOUIOHLHoihoiyueoiruoytrebleoihjoeojlajdffbasslkjo booecaoihdalarmalarmalarmalarmkhohovnboendoioieonv 98687923/I.//I.///I.//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////I.////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// /////////////I.//////////////////////////////////////////////////I./////////////////////////////////////////I./////////////////////////I./////////////////I.////////I. //////I.///I.//I./I.//
////////////////aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ah, Greece. The one place you won’t be found with an omelette for a wife. What I intend to say is… oooh, look, piranhas. Look at their sharp teeth. Sometimes sangitoniously that happens. Sangitoniously. Sangitoniously. The tree. I must get to the tree. The mangoes beckon. They say, come hither, little man. Eat us. Eat us. I’m so close now. I can see their lips moving. Eat us, they say. I can almost feel them, but the glass stands in the way. I must find a way to break the glass. Eat us, they say. Eat us, eat us, eat us, eat us, eat us, EAT US, EAT US, EAT US EAT US EAT US! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!! I need something to smash this glass with. I must save my children. The chair should work. The tank is filling up with water. My children are inside. They don’t know how to swim. None of my eighty-five chil/mangoes/ know how to swim. The glass seems to be strong. The chair cannot break it. Wait, my children, I am coming. The fiery mangoes are falling into the water. EAT US, DADDY, EAT US! I have to save them. I’m pounding my fists against the glass. I tripped on a stone/[hey]/the ground is rising up at me. It opens its mouth/[hey]/ I fall into its mouth/[HEY!]/fall. Falling. Falling, falling, falling through an endless chasm/[where am I?]/what will break this fall?/[I must be dreaming]/I can see water below. A swirling vortex. The water is orange./[I’ve got to get in.]/as I fall the water seems to be falling towards me/[STOP! I don’t want this.]/the alarm!/I’ve got to/the orange waves wash over me as I fall/under me is a sea of alarm clocks[am I inside?]/ a sea that is distant. I keep falling[Steer the dream. Lucid dream.] I don’t want to die. I don’t want to fall into alarm clocks. I don’t want the hands and the bells and the gears and the batteries and the numbers to be sticking through me. I don’t want to die. Not that way. [I’m not falling.]I keep falling. No. No. No, no, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO, NO!!! [This is not working. Steer the dream. Try harder.] Suddenly I swing around and I am jerked upwards, the way I came [YES!]. My head jerked backwards and is ripped off my shoulders. [No! It doesn’t. My head is on my shoulders.] My head is still on my shoulders. Below me, I can hear the mangoes and the children and the alarm clocks sing. The black alarm clocks with the green hands and numbers that glow in the dark. Beep-beep-beep – beep-beep-beep – beep-beep-beep, they all sing. Beep-beep-beep – beep-beep-beep – beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep – beep-beep-beep – beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep – beep-beep-beep – beep-beep-beep// Beep-beep-beep – beep-beep-&beep – be^ep-beep-be$ep. Beep-beep-beep – beep-be@ep-beep – be#ep#-beep-be`ep.
My hand moves out and knocks the alarm clock off its stand and onto the floor. The clock stops ringing. The wind up clock. The display shows 5:30 AM. I get off my bed. I leave my clock on the floor. I don’t think I’ll ever wish for dreams again. I don’t even want sweet dreams. Next time, I just want to sleep. Plain old dark, undisturbed, undisturbing sleep. The clock starts beeping again. My wind-up clock. The black one with the green hands and numbers that glow in the dark. I move towards it to turn it off when I stop. Wind-up clocks go “TRRRRINNNGGG!!!”, not “Beep-beep-beep”. Especially mine, the one with the green hands and numbers on its face that glow in the dark doesn’t have a digital display that reads 5:32 AM. Or does it?
Wait a minute. Am I awake?/Or am I?
posted by Kaushik @ 7:24 am
9 Comments:
Koze,
I didn't know your email and couldn't find it anywhere, so I thought I'd post here. I want to thank you, Ram, Shishir, Dhruva and Vasuman (for his hilarious drawings) for all the fun that you guys gave us over three years at just three bucks a copy.
The Mad Herald would arrive in our class invariably on a boring weekday afternoon, after some teacher has distributed the class' test notes and there are sullen faces everywhere. And then there would be a sudden wave motion - some people rushing forward to be the first ones to get their copy, while others staying in their seats, no doubt waiting for the few who had bought the paper to finish reading it so that they could have their look at it.
The Herald would most probably be forgotten by the end of the day, but it certainly did offer relief for all those bogged down students who read it - during the break when it was sold, as well as in the subsequent mathematics class(chaos?).
I must say, I would have liked to have contributed to such a wonderful effort. I had no idea as to the existence of The Weekly Stuff and about the 'paper war', but at the end of the day its kudos to all of you, who've brightened our lives, especially in our Dark Ages of 15 and 17 for three years.
Once again, you lot rock.
Aashirwad
i thot there was something wrong with this page when it loaded the first time.
i still haven't reached the end of the first para.
i will, though, even if it kills me.
:)
Yes, there does seem to be something wrong with this page. Despite the difficulty, I did finish reading it though.
It is indeed very interesting, the "incoherent" period of falling asleep and then the "incoherence" of dreams. Many people attribute the origin of the inexplicable incoherence to the awakening of the subconscious, where the subconscious is said to contain imprints of your soul's journey.
I know, you just wrote another of your nonsense pieces, but as is often the case, it was profound nonsense!
oops... that anonymous post was by me. I still remain anonymous, but I like my unique anonymous identity.
I liked it, I think you especially pulled off the wonky grammar something of a difficult task I haven't seen many utilize well. Personally, I don't remember the majority of my dreams.
I can't comment on "A place" for some reason so I'll make my comment here. I think you should read "Invisible" by Pete Hautman. It's kewl.
"A Place" seems to have had disappeared for some reason. I don't know when this happened, I rarely check this blog myself.
Anyway, I've posted it again.
Kaushik
You have an outstanding good and well structured site. I enjoyed browsing through it Uw madison girls tennis coaches
This one too.
The ending makes for a thought-provoking finish.
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