dream scape

so something that i always feel slightly uncertain of is the ability of situations or experiences to obtain a tinge of surreality the instant they are completed. i would say this equates to the feeling of vacation but i get the impression that my life as a whole is quite similar to some people's definition of vacation.

do you know what i mean? you experience something powerful, something extraordinary, like a journey or a relationship and, when that instant or series of instants comes to an end and something new begins, that experience feels like a dream, like it never really happened and you're just chugging along forward, in a different page of a new chapter.

it bugs me. i want my experiences to stick around. i want some way to fill them with concrete and keep them in my brain. everything about them, their smells and sounds and how they affect me. and a lot of my life is about that--from photographs to writing to tattooing, a lot of that is about creating something tangible from an intangible experience. isn't it? interesting.

anyway, that brings me to the point. these are two dreams that i had while sailing and i would appreciate some input on them. probably adding to my difficulty in obtaining feelings of realism from my actually realistic experiences is the fact that my brain works in overdrive while i'm sleeping to create journeys that rival the real ones in complexity and depth. and, also, hilarity.

here's dream scenario one.
saturday night

i'm out on the jetties where jason took me for a walk, they're flooded, the tide is high. my mom is walking where i can see her, she's telling a story to some folks i've never seen before but she's speaking in my voice. she sees me and starts to cry, her face is so sad it hurts me still to think about--twisted up and terrified. i hold her for a long time until, in an instant, i'm standing atop that wooden tower in key west, some spring breakers are surrounding me, they have sparkling piles of panamaian cocaine on their fingertips, they're flinging it in the air and teaching me strange new methods of inhaling it, fire breathing. i take off running down the tower, my legs are made of noodles, i'm trying to call Ted on the phone "Ted! Ted i'm high as shit! Ted i'm on a boat! in a tower! get over here and prove yourself!" i run off the end of a the tower and leap onto the foredeck of this enormous schooner where i am apparently employed, i know its my job to douse the spinnaker, the schooner has a gigantic figurehead of a full nativity scene and while i'm working with the huge sail i fall and catch myself on jesus' beard and the deck lights come on, i'm swinging wildly around on jesus, all the spring breakers are clapping.

cut to: real life sound of a halyard, stefan hoisting the genoa, leap up and sheet in.
12:45 p.m.

dream scenario two.
sunday night.

i played soccer in a field by the river for quite awhile. rather, i sat on the bench while Mary Disa scored goals with arcing kicks from mid field. typical.
then, i was painting at finnegans wake for the longest time--they let me set up a table for st. patty's day, and i spent hours painting this incredibly detailed scene of koi fish and butterflies on this woman's back. then Cliff showed up on a Polaris snowmobile, asking if i knew who's foul weather gear he had found then deciding to go across the street to take field notes on the "retard trying to score a date." i walked over to this table where Mike, Amy and Sleepy were having this meeting with a real estate agent from northern california who was interested in selling us small parcels of land, i tried to stab Mike in the neck with my paintbrush then Amy and I ditched out on that shit show and got on some kayaks, she said, "sounds like we're gonna buy us some land and build us a cabin, the four of us, we're gonna have us a television show and call it Little House on the Prairie two, its gonna be magical."
then we found this extremely elk who had been shot in the neck. Amy held its head in her arms until it died, i cried then sawed off its antlers, shoved it in a cooler and proceeded to push and pull the huge cooler a real long way down this gravel road to Anderson's RV Park which was, according to the billboard, still 500 yards away when i woke up.

dropping the genoa.






if i had a dream dictionary perhaps i could glean some meaning. or, as Cliff would say, thank god dreams are no sign whatsoever of clairvoyance or i'd have a shitstorm a comin.

if only life wasn't equally as strange as these dreams. just got kicked out of mexico, be careful what you wish for.



remember to be patient, humble and communicative. i gotta get my head screwed back on straight cause, baby, i'm all over the damn place.

whirlwind

the heart, the wind, the tides. consistently in motion, irreverently unpredictable, i follow these courses with the hop skip bounce of a young and feverish colt.

life is so undeniably long, so unapproachably short; cut with moments that give you pause, that create a platform from which you will operate, a persona through which you will flourish, expand, contract, deteriorate commiserate appreciate survive.

we are only human. ain't our fragility glorious.

i, for whatever it is worth, i am living. living fully. breathing, running, burning, skipping, fucking up and loving hard. i am back in my element--you place me aboard a sailing ship and all that was anxiety, all that was confusion, disintegrates i am left naked, sunburned salty, with calloused hands and peace in my heart.

lately, i have been approached by a gentleman of the unutterable sort. he has waltzed out of my past and slapped me in the face, he has given me cause for regret. his name is settlement, his name is dogged and blind loyalty, his name was doubt and distress. he was my mistress for many years past and he is gone, now. replaced by the shocking and overwhelmingly marvelous realization of the potential of life. the potential of relationships. the available real estate left in my smile--that bitch can get so much bigger than she has been, she can fill my face and swallow my pride and cast a blinding light across all things dark and dreary.

my smile could fill the universe. my course of understanding, of myself and others, could fill the pages of a novel. my shame for past mistakes has evaporated in the glory of opportunity.

life can, realistically, be anything you have the capacity of imagining.

isn't that fucking incredible?

we sail out today. hopefully we'll make it to guatemala in one foul swoop. only time and wind can tell and by god am i glad to be back in her hands.

i will be back aboard a sailing ship of my own in the near future. currently engaged in the operation of locating and solidifying a ship and crew--i have no intentions of traveling this world alone, not for much longer. not when i know now have held in my hands the unwavering and limitless potential of a new partnership; combined with the proper person, you are powerful beyond description. and, if and when you have the opportunity, always act like a banshee because of your heart. i will never, ever not err in the direction of a heart's murmur. she speaks to you, and the more frequently you listen the louder and clearer she becomes. like a damn freight train, sometimes, the heart's roar. her voice, though, like many things innate to us as a human species has been quieted, quilted, smothered with a veneer of plastic and complacency. retreat to your intuition, your wild nature, your voice deep inside and listen to what she has to say. she's kind of a big deal.

oh, the places we'll go.

cayo hueso

toss your intentions aside and follow me as we stumble magic gliding through this island of fantasy, city of wide-eyed bumblefeet from the frozen north colliding with the ships and captains, the bartenders and dancers, the mask wearing card carrying lunatics and the population of those who laugh too hard drink too much pausing never, partying on.

i could call this island home. its pleasant weather, comforting smooth streets, fleet of tall ships and menagerie of characters all worthy of a storybook feel closer to me than anywhere else i've lived. my week has lasted a year.

every corner i turn i find a drunken michiganer willing to dance the rumba, ride the bull and combat shot after shot of tequila. they merge, after a few days, into all one and the same. i adore them in their consistency, their wide-eyed bafflement, their intrigue and ther ability to keep this island alive with their steady stream of dollar bills. they are the masses and they astound me. wait until the end of the night and shock them with your worldliness, your imagination, your parade of music playing hoodlams carrying kazoos and teddy bears yelling ecastatic in our yes, we can get away with this here.

the island is changing, of course, everything is and does and will never stop but it has not ceased to permit wonderment, to continue to host a harbor afloat with a fleet of tall masted sailing ships, to approve of and encourage pirate themed attire and to generally embrace an attitude of frivolous allfornothing levity that i so do admire.

entertaining the notion of boredom in this town is akin to declaring the ocean shallow. it is unfathomable. music leers from every corner, potential conversation rests in every face, hip grinding debauchery two bad decisions away from every moment. you could achieve anything you are capable of desiring here, you are the limit.

use caution. the sea. the booze. the dance. the sun. the booming laughter. they all beckon to you in this island of bones, curling her fingers with a smile on her lips whispering warm nights windows down loosen up lets see where this can take us GO.