Sweet Dreams

That's the thing about this city- the shifting landscapes and otherworldly visuals never cease to dazzle me, but it’s the feeling of bliss, sweet and potent, that brings me back for more. Well, that and the contract.

I walk into the hills that surround the city (today), following the meandering path of a placid river. Spongy soft grass propels each footstep without a sound, but the river babbles merrily. Is it calling to me? I wade in to find out, and the crystal waters flow around my ankles, my knees, my waist, until I float in the current on my back. I stare at the lavender sky, mesmerized; I love this gentle place.

I take a deep breath and roll face down in the water to look at the smooth river rocks on the bottom. The sunlight dances in thin, prismatic lines that jitter and jump from stone to stone. The riverbed begins to move away from me until it looks very distant.

I sit up in the water, and my eyes widen- only sky surrounds me. Beyond the edge of the river, I see the landscape below, and I can’t help but laugh. It appears the river has relocated! Now it winds through the sky at the same leisurely pace.

Again I roll over, but this time I watch the city pass under me through an aqueous lens, the buildings pliable and distorted. The shapes meld into an indigo mass as the sunlight fades, and I know it’s time.

Under a cadmium sky, the river transports me to my destination. I hear the roar of a waterfall and see a great white cloud of mist rising in front of me. I open my arms and flow into it.

The white light intensifies. I clench my eyes shut, but I can’t block the sounds that assault my ears. Rubber squeaks on the tile floor; metal tools clank on a tray; crisp cotton material swishes sporadically; and worst of all, the heart rate monitor beeps incessantly. The air conditioning groans to life before easing into a low hum, pumping cool air into the room to wake me, and someone peels the cozy blanket off my body. Shoot.

I reluctantly peek through my eyelids and focus on the black clock on the opposite wall, as I have every morning for the past month. I like to ignore the nurses for as long as possible, instead letting the rhythmic ticking reset my brain to this world of logic. I shiver without my blanket and glance down at my forearm where goosebumps contort my skin, the rigid peaks pointing each hair toward the ceiling.

“Good morning, Daniel.”

The lead doctor, whose snowy white hair matches her lab coat, regards me with a clipboard in hand, patiently waiting.

“Good morning, Dr. Barnes.”

“How was your night?”

I do my best to describe it while her pen scratches across the paper. She murmurs words of affirmation and surprise, too, as she listens to my night of wonders.

“Did you see anyone you knew?” she asks.

“My teacher from the third grade, Mrs. Lewis.” I frown at the image of her in my head. “She had curly brown hair, but in my dream it was orange, like Ms. Frizzle’s.” I wonder if all scientists know who that is.

“Anyone else?”

“Two cousins I haven’t seen since I was a kid.”

“How was that?”

I shrug my shoulders. “They were very cordial.”

“Cordial cousins,” she says with a smile, and her pen dances again.

“The rest were strangers, but they all knew my name.”

“Did they try to crown you king?”

“No, were they supposed to?”

She raises her eyebrows and tilts her forehead toward me, an obvious reprimand.

“Sorry. Contract.” I forget about the no questions clause at least once a day. It’s just so hard to not wonder whether they’re putting these things in my head.

Once the questions are answered and the monitors and sensors removed from various spots on my body, I head to the spa room with my overnight bag. The Baltimore Sleep Institute is a private sleep study facility, and fortunately for me, they don’t skimp on comfort. I walk into a white marble shower and turn on the waterfall shower head as peaceful piano music plays in the background. Thank you, Mom, for paying for this.

I replay the fluid dreams of the night before as warm water runs down my face. That’s the crazy thing about sleeping here: the dreams don’t fade. I have no trouble recalling them in the morning; they sit in my memory as if they were the events of yesterday instead of the random ramblings of my sleeping brain.

Lately, I’ve been looking forward to the nights with increasing impatience, eager to return to my spectacular dream world. With colors unrivaled, wonders ever-changing, and guaranteed emotional bliss, who wouldn’t?

Plus, I’ve been hanging out with my dad here. I didn’t see him last night, but we often bump into each other. If only Mom knew how great a gift she gave me, but alas, the contract also includes a clause that forbids dream sharing. 

Once I towel off and dress for work (yes, life goes on as usual even during a sleep study), my phone buzzes with a text.

Can we meet for lunch at Alfredo’s? my girlfriend Renae asks.

That sounds great! 11:30?

She sends the thumbs up emoji, and I hum my way to Reynolds Accounting Firm.

When I walk into the restaurant at 11:32, she doesn’t reciprocate my smile. In fact, she remains seated, and I bend over and attempt to hug her, my shoulder mauling her face in the process. I retreat and scoot into the booth across from her.

“So, how are you doing?” I ask with enthusiasm. “TGIF?”

“Hi, Dan.” She studies me with soft brown eyes. It strikes me like it did the day we met- I love her gentle face. She looks at her interlaced fingers on the table and takes a deep breath.

“This is only the second time I’ve seen you since you started the sleep study. You look... rested,” she says without making eye contact.

“Thanks.” Awkward. I open my mouth to speak-

“Whadya wanna order?” barks someone else.

I look up into the face of a very tall, muscular waitress, more like a bodybuilder, and my mouth continues to hang open. Fortunately, Renae fills the gap.

“I’m not ordering anything,” she tells the lady.

I frown in confusion. “Oh, I guess I’m not either.”

The waitress narrows her eyes at me, and I shrink toward the window. “You came here for waters? I work for tips, you know.”

I sigh and hand over my menu. “Fine, I’ll take the chicken panini.” I implore Renae with my notoriously expressive eyebrows. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

A minuscule wiggle of her head is all I get.

The waitress leaves, and I look at Renae with a bemused smile. “You asked me out to lunch, remember?”

She slowly swirls the ice in her glass with a red straw, the cubes clinking and shifting into new positions. When she glances at the door I know I’ve blown it.

“Look, Renae, I’m sorry I’ve been distant lately.”

She blinks rapidly and jumps into motion. Phone in purse. Strap on shoulder. “No, don’t apologize,” she says as she scoots out of the booth. “We’re both busy people working on our careers and stuff... so I’ve gotta run.”

I sit helplessly on distressed pleather. “Okay. I’ll call you later.”

She offers a placating smile. The door jingles a moment later, and she’s gone.

...and stuff...

The words hang in the air by the booth. Yeah, my anxiety attacks from lack of sleep stuff, then my sleep study stuff, living in a dream world stuff... all me...

Shoot.

I grab my phone, but set it back down with a grimace. Too soon. I eat alone.

“Life is messy,” I say to the waitress when she brings the check, but she only rolls her eyes like she knows the truth.

What is the truth? I wonder as I walk back to work. Were we really that busy or have I neglected my real life girlfriend in favor of a fantasy?

The question gnaws at me as I balance expenses with accounts receivables; it corrodes my usual euphoria as I run through the park. I text her three times with no response by 7pm, and I begin to wonder if it’s over.

In the parking lot of the sleep institute, I call her before heading inside for the night. Voicemail.

“Hey, Renae. I just want to say I’m sorry, for a lot of things, really.” I pace around an empty parking spot, cutting right angles like a soldier. “I’m sorry for hurting your feelings and for being a lousy boyfriend. But most of all, I’m sorry for making you feel unimportant.”

Deep breath. “Please, please forgive me. Will you go on a date with me tomorrow? We can start at 7am at Federal Hill Park for that early morning walk you’ve always wanted and then be spontaneous for the rest of the day. Okay? I love you.”

“Tonight’s your last night,” Dr. Barnes says as they hook me up to the machines. “How are you feeling?”

“A little anxious, honestly.”

“Let go of your worries, and you’ll have sweet dreams here.”

It has worked every other night. But I wonder, “Do you think I’ll be able to keep having these dreams when I’m back home in my own bed?”

“Questions,” she says with a little shake of her head. A moment later, though, she says softly, “If you have gotten… attached… to anyone or anything, I recommend saying goodbye tonight.”

I nod, and for the first time, I enter with a mission: Find Dad and say goodbye. 

The white light diminishes and trees come into focus around me. I’m standing at the edge of a forest on a soft bed of pine needles facing the city. It shimmers brightly, and the edges blur like a mirage. Where should I look for him?

A barn owl with a white face swoops past me. Its flight path curves up to a low tree branch where it lands and watches me from afar. We make eye contact, and I decide to go to the city where the people are.

Wildflowers brush against my legs and butterflies flit away as I pass through a small meadow that grows along the edge of the city. The sound of laughter welcomes me, and I find the streets filled with a lively market. Vendors chat with customers under colorful umbrellas while children run down the street. A smiling lady approaches me with a lei. She places the white and yellow flowers around my neck and moves on to another person.

I search the faces for my dad, but the sea of people makes it impossible. Maybe I could spot him from a higher vantage point. I weave through the crowds toward a towering building made of glass. I enter its lobby and head straight for the elevator. It dings, and the door opens. The mirrored elevator is already full of passengers, but I squeeze in with them.

“Hello,” I say politely to the animals that shuffle sideways to make room for me. I press the top button, number 30, and face the door as the elevator lifts off. In the reflection I see a peacock sitting on the rump of a zebra, a spotted panther licking its paw, and a chimp in the corner.

I decide to make small talk. “Are you guys here for business?”   

The chimp looks up at me with intelligent eyes. “The ocean is coming,” she says.

“Oh.”

The other animals get off at various floors, but the chimp and I ride to the very top. We exit together and walk to the edge of the deck to look down at the street below. I squint my eyes as I hunt for Dad.

“You can borrow my binoculars.” The chimp pulls a pair of bedazzled binoculars over her head and offers them to me.

“Thank you.” It’s funny I didn’t notice them before. The pink rhinestones feel bumpy under my fingers, but I place them against my eyes and scan the shifting faces.

A loud roar draws our eyes to the horizon. Churning water rushes through the trees toward the city until the whole land is covered. A giant whirlpool begins to swirl in the middle of the newly formed ocean, and one by one, the triangular tops of the trees circle downward until they disappear.

Screams of delight follow, and a mob stampedes toward the beach. The crazed people plunge through the water in unison, enter the whirlpool, and just like that, everyone’s gone.

“Humans,” says the chimp with a shake of her head, and I return the binoculars.

The water smooths out into a glassy sea. I turn around and discover the elevator has vanished. Instead, a large tube beckons- the entrance to a clear slide. I smile. This is my favorite way to travel in the city. Moments later I land on a pillow of white sand.

I head to the water’s edge. Everyone went into the ocean, so maybe my dad’s in there. The water offers little resistance as I enter. It flows into my lungs like air, and bubbles slip out of my nose when I exhale.     

I walk on the sea floor, exploring a coral reef as colorful fish swim around my face. I bend over to spy on a creature tucked under a crevice when I hear his familiar voice.

“It’s a great day for a swim, isn’t it?”

I stand up straight and watch as my long deceased dad floats on his back toward me, hands tucked under his head and feet slowly paddling. “You know, I’ve always wanted to swim with dolphins,” I say.

Swinging his bare feet down to the rippled sand, he stands with a grin and presses his fingers to his lips. Then he lets out his signature ear piercing whistle, only this time it isn’t painful. A pod of bottlenose dolphins instantly materializes on the shifting blue horizon, chattering happily as they weave a braid of silver bubbles on their journey to us. Three dolphins break off from the pod and swim on each side of us, with one between. We grab onto a dorsal fin with each hand and take off!

Gentle arcs and dips, three dolphins and two men in tandem, we speed through the water. Faster and faster they pump their tails until our path levels out at maximum momentum. Then the angle tilts up. We shoot through the surface of the water into the sky.

“Yahoo!” we scream as we slice the air with our fingertips. We curve in rapid descent and dive into the water, which gently absorbs our entrance. Epic. The dolphins escort us back to the beach.

“Have I ever told you I’m proud of you?” he asks as we emerge.

“Yeah, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“You taking good care of your mom?”

I nod.

He pats my shoulder as foamy water laps around our ankles. “I love you, son,” he says with a fond smile.

“I love you, too, Dad.”

The foam seems to be expanding, and one of the bubbles travels up my legs and envelops my body.

“I’ll see you again sometime.”

“Bye,” I say as the bubble slides over my face, and I’m now fully ensconced in a slippery orb. It lifts off the ground, and I wave at him right before sliding onto my back at the bottom. I watch the iridescent colors swirl above me as I float higher into the sky, the blue gradually fading to white. 

My first thought back in the sleep institute is Renae. After debriefing, I hastily change clothes; no time for a shower. I have to get to Federal Hill Park!

I tap the steering wheel with increasing agitation as I wait for a stop light to change. I park at the first available spot and leap out of the car. I race down the sidewalk, toward the park, then skid to a halt in front of a grocery store. Flowers.

I run to the floral department and grab a bouquet of dyed daisies. They’re neon and gaudy, but I’m not going for subtlety today. I swipe my card and run out the door without a receipt, intent on reaching the top of the hill that looms large in front of me.

I dash across a street without using a crosswalk, and a car blasts its horn. I turn and raise my hands in apology, clip my heel on the curb, and crash to the ground. A bike swerves around me.

Gotta keep moving!

I pump my arms and power straight up the grassy slope. No time for serpentine sidewalks. As I crest the hill, I spot Renae watching me from a bench. She stands this time, and my heart pounds for a new reason.

“Good morning!” I say between gasps for air.

She accepts the bouquet with a laugh. A few of the stems snapped when I fell and now hang down at right angles. “Aw, you worked so hard to get here.”

“Renae,” I pant, “I’m an idiot. You’re the best thing in my life. Please tell me I haven’t ruined us.”

She steps closer and takes my hand, her brown eyes serious. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” She brushes a lock of hair off my forehead. “But I need more time with you than twice a month..."

"You're right, and I'm so sorry. Big change, starting now."

Tears begin to glisten in her eyes. "Did you mean it when you said you loved me last night?"

"Yes, with all my heart."

"I love you, too," she whispers as the tears spill over.

The poor daisies plop on the ground when I pull her into my arms for a kiss. Her lips feel warm, soft, and authentic. I realize with a grateful heart that I’m already living the dream.