Dream Fog

DREAM FOG

I walk through the dark forest toward the lake. There is no trail, but I know my way because I often come here in dreams. A dense fog blurs the outlines of tree trunks and boulders. This place is all in shades of gray. It is like this every time I come here. The mood is dismal and comforting at the same time, and I like that.

I arrive at the lake, which is also blanketed in thick mist. I have never seen across the lake, so I don’t know if it is really a lake. The surface is liquid pewter and looks viscous. The narrow beach is made of smooth, dark gray rocks that glow coldly in the dim light. There is never anything on the beach. No driftwood, no dead leaves, no trash. The rocky slope disappears abruptly into the water.

This time though I am alarmed to see an object a few yards to my left and just above the water line. It is a small bottle. I pick it up and cautiously unscrew the cap. I break a twig from a tree and use it to fish out small piece paper from inside. It is a lottery ticket.

Gripped by a sense of urgency, I put the ticket in my pocket and plunge back into the forest. The surroundings are now thick with dread. I have no doubt that I am being followed and closely observed. The dream has shifted from light adventure to urgent flight. Each time I look back I see a dark shape disappear behind a tree. The light that seeps in from the forest edge seems to be receding. I can taste the fear in the back of my mouth.

And now I am somehow standing on the sidewalk in front of the liquor store. I am relieved to see the congenial owner, whom everyone calls Apu, is behind the counter. “Apu! how do I see if a lottery ticket is a winner?”

“Ah, very simple memsahib, put the ticket into the slot in the machine.” He points, and I do as told.

As soon as I insert the ticket, the air is filled with piercing sirens and clanging bells. Everyone in the shop comes running toward us. Others pour through the door from the street. Apu shouts above the din, “You won the jackpot! But quick, you have to hide!” Now Apu is dragging me toward the storage room behind the beer coolers. I clutch the ticket in my fist and hold it to my chest. 

“We will climb down into the canyon,” he shouts. “They will never find us there!” The canyon is another of my favorite dream destinations. When I go there, I am certain that it is just a few blocks from my house. And yet it is one of my secret, private places that no one seems to know about. Even my husband, James, never goes with me and couldn’t find me there if he had to.

Apu and I descend the steep trail cut into rocky, yellow-brown cliffs and past side ravines thick with old growth redwoods. Now we step carefully as the trail winds along the top of the stream bank. The stream cascades noisily twenty feet below. “We will be safe at the pool by the waterfall,” he says. “This way.” He points to a deep hole in the ground.

We cling to tree roots as we lower ourselves to the bottom. I know from other dreams that we must enter the cave next. “Mind your head,” he says as he crouches down and disappears into the cave entrance.

It is dark inside until Apu touches something on the cave wall, and a hundred pinpoints of light fill the cave with a warm golden glow. Small stalactites on the ceiling glisten like stars. There is just enough light to pick our way across the rocky floor as we follow the small stream trickling downhill. Up ahead, light coming through an opening becomes increasingly brighter until we stand before an exit. We step out into sunlight and sound.

We are now standing a few steps from a large pool surrounded by moss and fern-clad cliffs. Through a slot in the surrounding wall an insistent spout of water shoots out and falls into the dark pool. “We can hole up here until the time to collect your boon is ripe,” Apu says.

“I don’t know what is going on. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go. And this is my dream!”

“Redeeming a jackpot is not straightforward. We must appeal to the duly appointed authorities. We have to go to a different principality. We will go to Pittsburg. We may also have to get married.” Apu’s voice fades, and the surroundings become diffuse. I feel like I am rising into the light and into waking. Then I fall back and down.

The rambling stream has become a lazy, winding river. I step into a rowboat, but Apu says, “No, memsahib, we must take the canoe. If there are Indians, we must try to fit in.”

“But Apu, you’re and Indian.”

“I am a liquor store Indian; these are casino Indians.”

“Do they mind being called ‘Indians’?”

“They don’t much care, actually, but call them by their tribal name. I think they are Comanches. We should also disguise ourselves. Put this in your hair.” He hands me a large, red feather.

Our canoe glides silently downstream as the river winds its way across a flat, grassy plain that stretches to the horizon. We hear the sound of hoof beats, and soon a dozen Indians on horseback appear on the riverbank. “Paddle, paddle, paddle!” says Apu.

“Hi! We’re Comanches too. See!” I point to the feather in my hair. But now I look back and see that the Comanches are in canoes, and they gaining on us, even though their paddle strokes are relaxed, almost languid. Also I see that they are actually old white men. In spite of the paint on their faces, I can recognize Dick Chaney and Jack Nicholson. They grin derisively. Then I hear the roar.

“I forgot about the rapids. Sorry.” says Apu.

We suddenly accelerate. We are being tossed up and down, back and forth. I reach for the lottery ticket which I had tucked inside my bra for safe keeping, but a gust of wind whisks it away. Now I am falling and grasping for the ticket as it dances before me in the breeze. I make one last desperate lunge and land in my bed beside James.

-o-

I’m am gripped with sadness as I realize that there is no lake, and there is no canyon nearby. At least not in this world. And I don’t have a lottery ticket.

At breakfast, I ask James, “Honey, when does the liquor store open?”

“Wait, Sugar, you barely drink at all, and now you want a drink at 8:00 a.m.?

“No, no, I need to buy a lottery ticket.”

“Are you serious?!”

“I only need one. I’ll be right back.”

I run to the car to end the conversation. Maybe I should have told James about the dream, but I’m in a hurry to find out.

“Apu give me one Super lotto.”

At home James says sarcastically, “Did you win the lottery?”

“Give me a break. I only bought one ticket.”

The next morning, I hide behind the paper as I check the lottery numbers. Not a single match!

“It wasn’t true, James.”

“What wasn’t?”

“The dream. I dreamed I won the lottery. Remember that guy from LA last year? He saw a series numbers in a dream. He woke up, wrote the numbers down, and drove to Vegas. He played the numbers in KENO and won a million dollars. Well I dreamed I won the lottery, but it wasn’t true.”

“OK, I guess I might have done the same thing…maybe….”

“I should have known…but Honey, do you ever dream of a lake…?”