its dead early. that halflight spilling into the tent that gankadank brought for me. the cot he also brought me is so comfortable, and the sleeping bag he brought me is as well. i am the second man to sleep on this cot, and justin told me to beware i'd potentially have fatman's dreams. i did not. i have had exclusively my own dreams the past two nights.
these are the first moments of the last day i will be in wisconsin. i don't know how long this moment curves on for, but i try to hold to it though to do anything conscious in such a situation just don't make it happen. but still, you try.
you may not control your sleeping dreams and as they unfurl out into the waking light you can get just one more glimpse of where the mind wandered to through the paltry two rem cycles you sucked down. just a glimpse of the thing as it moves on into the nether air. as that dream swims back to where it will sull up sore jawed and wiser, and brood, and eventually lurk again and wait to feed......for someone else perhaps.
there in between sleep and wake is a cross section of dream thought and conscious thought. some venn diagram where these two vastly different thought systems intersect. the sliver of cross section being pulled thinner and thinner as the circles labeled "sleeping mind" and "awake mind" are pulled apart.
like some magicians trick. see? the rings? they are joined, look! i can pull at them and they won't separate! (the clinking of rings, firmly interlocked). but they do: some slight of hand, some trick of time. two minds with one command, as they fade to their own realms. and the crowd of one hushes and studies, how it was done. so impossible, right? some magicpractictioner.
these moments tend to occur for me over a hugely powerful thing. and to be fair, haven't occurred over a good positive thing in years. they've covered the really bad shit of late. like you come wake in the morning.....the rings are separating......and you say to yourself, that horrible thing didn't happen right? it only existed on the sleep side, right? but no, it did happen. the shoulders slump.
over the past weekend the moment was one of huge power and positivity in my own little life. and i lay there on justin's cot at who knows how early it was and sucked the marrow out of the bones of yesterday. the world outside was quiet. i had to piss so damn bad but i stayed longer. i was holding on to the dream and as it dissipated i was left with the reality of things. i smiled. maybe my eyes welled up with pride. i crawled out of the tent, dressed in my filthy pigpen clothes, took 2 alleve's.
we had to break down camp. i couldn't really start doing chores since everyone was still sleeping. i figured, why not? just go. do it now. check out the sunrise in the exact spot where it happened. go be near to where that great great fish is swimming. where it lives, and feeds, and lurks. that place where you got what you didn't deserve. you knew it. you were so fucking grateful anyhow. sheepish. no no, not me...........
when on any trip like this one, the group celebrates a great fish as one. traditionally, i've never been the one to catch it but i've been bridesmaid many times over and acted as witness and friend to the bride. i ain't never been the bride. i didn't know how to act, but i was grateful.
i took justin's keys and left the campground. i stopped for a double order of karupa gold iced coffee. i drove to the pin that josh and fred had sent us on friday when we pulled into town. the sun was just rising up, i began to walk the path down to the river.
as i made my way down, i was overcome. i will admit this to folks here since it is my hope that they understand. i wept. i wept with joy for the fact that i had made a lifelong dream come true. i had done it. me. the traditional bridesmaid and a good one at that, celebrating others great success willingly and gladly with very very limited jealousy or ill feelings. truly happy for others when they are the bride on a trip. this trip, it was me. and i had done it on my own two feet wading in a really tough spot to wade.
i had whipped the big fish and i kept expecting some evil foul trick of life to expose itself......a third ring, and none of it had happened. neither dream nor reality and the third ring would hypothetically pull me back to new england where i would wake in my own bed and think i wish i had a dream of a great fish last night, or better yet had actually caught one. that third ring. it was my fear. at the least, let me keep the dream part.
but it did happen. it did. i have the photos to prove it. and the two rings were real. they had verily separated, there in wisonsin, on that waking morning the last of the trip.
i sit down and watch the flow. i sit down right in front of where it happened and i drink that coffee and i weep with gratitude. i look around. no one is there. of course they aren't, it is ungodly early. i take in a deep deep breath and scream the word "UNBELIEVABLE" at the top of my lungs. i weep more. i pump my fists and flex myself and grit my teeth. me, hard me.
when it is time to gather myself and go back to camp and breakdown i don't know i can do it. i'm so emotional. i find a good coping mechanism. i say the following things outloud:
"i fucking accept!"
"i like turtles."
i'm laughing like a hyena when i crest the hill and i'm just smiling when i pull back into camp to see my friends for just a few more moments before i have to go on home.
enjoy your catch (it died)