WILD. Hypnagogic image of an interior scene, a public place, some people passing along a corridor in which I suddenly find myself walking. Oh yes, I’m in and I’m lucid. At once I reach into the pocket of my soft pants and pull out X’s key. There is a door before me I fully intend will lead into the guest room of the B– house. In goes the key. I turn it, and slowly push the door open. It seems pretty obvious I’m still in a public place, not a small guest room; it feels like a big school or a station; open space, broad passages. I keep walking, looking for another door, hopefully asking, “X?” every time I see a dark-haired man approaching me. I pass at least two likely candidates who do not respond to my query. Impatiently, I follow a group of women, one with white hair, debating whether to fly over them to the exit I’ve spotted a few yards away. I try the Blink method (Dishonored video game) to transport me instantly, but that doesn’t work so Instead I break into a run, which works great; I reach the door in no time. But there’s no need to use my key because the white-haired woman has somehow made it there before me and has already begun opening the (green?) door.
I step outside into a sunny day, one of numerous people exiting what now distinctly feels like a subway, train or bus station. I cry, “X! X!” because I know it’s late and I may have missed him. I walk up to a female DC with short hair, middle aged, and ask her, “Is this B–?” She sort of shakes her head and mutters something about it having been farther south, as though it no longer exists. I say, “But people still live there, right?” Her response seems to indicate that’s not the case, which briefly makes me wonder if I’m in some time far in the future. I turn away from her. I am one of many people walking on what feels like a boardwalk near the ocean, which I feel to my left more than actually see, a sense of blue beyond the colorful pedestrians. Then abruptly I remember the Drunken Sailor test and quickly turn back, returning to the female DC I just spoke with thinking she would be a good subject for the test and that I might as well do this since I thought of it and it won’t take long. I say, “Excuse me, but can I ask you a few questions?” She seems a little perplexed, but nods. I do my best to come up with the right type of questions, beginning with, “What’s your cat’s name?” She replies, some cute name I can’t remember. “What’s your tax ID number?” She mumbles something, a bit reluctantly, but nevertheless replies. Once again, I can’t remember what she said but in the dream I knew it was a viable answer. So far she’s exhibiting no signs of perturbation. I finish with, “How do you feel about extra-terrestrial life?” She just looks at me. I repeat the question and she mumbles something to the effect that she doesn’t feel one way or the other about it, she’s never thought about it or doesn’t think about such things. Well, good enough. I thank her and turn away.
I lose not time in asking the next female DC I pass, “Where is B–?” because I sense, I know, I’m close, really close. She seems to point south, which is the direction the other DC indicated. I’m once more gripped by a sense of urgency because it’s past 6:30 my time which means I’ve probably missed X, and yet that there’s still a chance I can make it to the B– house where he just might still be waiting for me. The fastest way is to fly, but Superman style, or dolphin kicks, aren’t good enough and I remember what he said about wind flying. Rising higher into the sky above the crowded boardwalk I catch a strong wind that buoys me, supports me and propels me forward at a wonderful, enervating clip. It feels fantastic and I relax into it, noting how it supports me, shaping itself to my contours as I lean back against it, like the most comfortable curved cushion-chair. There’s a seamless transition of cruising through the sky to passing right through buildings as though they are merely clouds, still moving forward at the same swift speed even as I “intersect” or pass though two floors of a building, the ceiling of the one below the floor of the one above, across which a woman is pushing a baby carriage. I pass right beneath the baby’s toes, my momentum pausing as though in response to my mischievous intent to squeeze the infant’s big toe, which feels very real and is as big as an adult-sized toe.
I keep moving but I don’t like it when I realize I’m in what appears to be a perfectly spherical train, like the inside of a missal, red and black, but the point is I’m beginning to feel confined, which makes me worry I might be waking up. “No!” I cry. “No, Maria!” and slam the right side of my fist against the glass of a door thinking just like Papi would say and smiling, maybe chuckling, at the thought. I’m absolutely determined not to wake up as I keep calling, “X! X! X!” I don’t care that it’s futile as, turning around in my seat, I study a group of young men all wearing the same light-blue uniforms and caps, and one of them in particular is looking at me as though wondering if I’m a little crazy. I see these DC’s uniform in striking detail. Then I feel the vehicle make a sharp right turn and at the same time it now feels and looks more like the inside of a bus. I make a decision. “Driver, stop here!” I can’t see the conductor, but my command is obeyed. The bus pulls to a stop in front of a large brown house. This is it. It has got to be. I jump out and debate whether to use what looks like the main door on the left or a smaller one behind it on the right. I choose the one on the right as I produce the key. I can tell right away the lock is too small for the key but I still attempt to insert it, and I think it somehow works because the lock turns and the door begins to open. So close! I can see the stairs beyond it, I’m almost there… the dream phases out at 6:50.