swim meet

long ago

I am at a large indoor pool. It is a swimming meet, my sister is competing. I am running through the dense warm air. It is thick with the smell of chlorine. I run down the row of bleachers and back again between periods of sitting. Bored and uncomfortable on the metal bleachers I tell my mother I need to use the bathroom. I walk down the aisle of the bleachers we sit on and then walk up the stairs to a long hallwall. I take a right through a single door which leads to a staircase. The stairs and wall are formed of a tan tile. The air still smells of chlorine. The lights are mellow and off white. Less than one story of stairs rise in front of me, the stairs end and the hall turns left. I walk forward, the hall turns to the left with another stair case of equal size. I continue, climbing the stairs, walking the hallway and repeating. I am ascending an unending spiral of tile stairs. I begin to run, eventually the stairs become metal, like stationary escalator steps. I continue to run. I look behind me wondering if I should turn back. I decide to ascend more. I begin to feel lost and panic. I run more, I run down two floors, up three, down four, up two, down five up six. I am lost. Ascending and descending I feel like I can never find my way out of this stair case. I don't think to simply descend. I feel as though where I came from is gone. I continue up another twist. This time there is a single wooden door on the flat landing above the stairs. Across the door is police tape and warnings signs. It is as if someone took every type of warning or notice and stuck them onto the door as a sticker. I feel it is my only way out and I open the door. A small closet is exposed. Two men stand facing each other, their backs to the left and right walls of the closet. In one man's hand is a bomb. It is a cartoon acme style bomb, like a big bowling ball with a burning fuse. The two men turn to face me, holding the bomb. The man on the left says "Are you lost?". I wake up.

red motorcycle

feb 20 2018

A red motorcycle is parked next to a wooden hut in a dense jungle. I desire to ride it.

stuffed dolphin

young enough to think it was a memory

I am young, preschool age. I am in the back seat of a car with my cousin and my sister. Another cousin sits in the front passanger seat. My aunt is driving. We are going to church. I have never been to some one else's church before and I am very uneasy. I don't like being around kids I don't know. The cousin in the front seat is older than me he jokes with my sister who is older. My other cousin is younger she sits in silence next to me. It is bright outside as if we are driving through a burning desert but I don't know what is around us even as I look. We arrive at what appears to be a massive farm silo or maybe above ground missile silo with a small warehouse attached. The only entrance atop a mountain of switchbacks forming a metallic wheelchair ramp. We walk the ramp and enter the silo. The inside is metal and gray, cold and cooly lit, contrary to the burning orange around us on the outside. There is a spiral staircase hugging the wall of the metal silo. It is a large silo maybe 100 feet in diameter or more. There is a metal support structure running up the center. I know the silo ends but it appears to extend upwards forever. The stair case is littered with small landings with doors to connected rooms. Though there was no such structures attached to the silo that you could see from the outside. As we reach a landing far up the stairs, directly opposite the entrance we entered, I am told this is the room where I will go to Sunday school. I am told my younger cousin will go to the next room up and my sister and older cousin will be in another room. It is implied that my aunt will continue up the stairs to get to some sort of chapel. The room does not match the cold industrial aesthetic of the silo. It is old and comfortable. Yellow painted (or faded) walls extend from organgish brown shag carpet. In the room are two brown and tan plaid couches and an empty wooden entertainment center. Littered across the floor are toys. Two women who I suspect to be in their early twenties sit on a couch. A number of children play with the toys. I was not introduced or dropped off formerly. My family is now gone. Uneasy I sit behind one of the couches and pick lint off my pants. One of the women notices and tries to cheer me up. She wants me to play with some of the children who are building with large cardboard bricks. I am uninterested. She leaves. Shortly after I hear a silly voice say hello. I look behind me over the top of the couch and a stuffed animal dolphin head is looking down. Trying to cheer me up the women puts on a puppet show over the couch with the dolphin and a stuffed tiger. I am overjoyed by the show and laugh hysterically as the dolphin and tiger talk and play. Soon other children join me behind the couch to watch the show. The women is eventually called away. It is implied that she needed to attend to another room. Before she leaves she tells me that I can keep the dolphin forever. It is a large stuffed animal, tail to nose it is nearly as tall as me. My fear gone, I take the dophin and put on my own puppet show. After which I hold the dolphin close and lie on the couch. The room is now empty. I get up and make my way to the next room in the silo where I find my younger cousin. This room is just like the other room. Eventually we are picked up by my Aunt, sister and older cousin. We make our way down the spiral staircase and I slide the dolphin down the railing like it is swimming next to me. Back in the car I play with the dophin next to the window. I pass the dolphin around the car so everyone can see it. End.

I was in posession of the described stuffed dolphin as long as I can remember. To this day it is in my parent's basement. When I was young, I thought this dream was a memory. One day I was loudly describing these events to my sister to prompt her to remember that day. My mother overheard and explained that I got the dolphin as a gift when I was born. Realizing that my memory wasn't real was a strange sensation as a child.