I wake up slowly from a dream I was having about walking along railroad tracks near the apartment in Rockville. I’m laying on my left side looking out the window. It is a bright blue sky sunny day. The colors outside are deep and intense. Green leaves on a tree branch overhanging the window stir slightly in a breeze, against that clear blue sky.<\/p>\n
I am awake, but clearly, so I think, not completely awake. Because I know two things: there is no window on the wall I am facing in my bed, and my eyes are closed.<\/p>\n
This, I think, is interesting. I look carefully out this window that is not there, through eyes that are closed. The detail in the things I see through that window, especially in the gently moving leaves, is stunning. Everything outside that window is crystal clear and sharp. And I am fully aware that my eyes are closed.<\/p>\n
I think through it some more, keeping my eyes closed, wondering what happens next, and how is this possible when I know I am awake, and that my eyes are closed. And as I do the scene outside the window begins to lose focus and blur slightly. Then more. Then more. Until I finally give in and open my eyes.<\/p>\n
There is no window. I am lying on my left side looking at the closet doors on that side of my bedroom, which is dark because it is still not quite morning. I am aware of no transition between dreaming and being awake. It feels as if I was awake the entire time. But I couldn’t have been. Not totally.<\/p>\n
This is not the first time this has happened. A week or so ago I was laying in bed and seeing the room I had when I was a teenager still living with mom in Rockville. And it was the same thing: I knew my eyes were closed, and I knew I was seeing the bedroom I used to have, not the one I have. It was less surprising than the experience this morning because I have often dreamed of being in that bedroom. But it was still a strange feeling to be seeing it through eyes I knew at the time were shut.<\/p>\n
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I wake up slowly from a dream I was having about walking along railroad tracks near the apartment in Rockville. I’m laying on my left side looking out the window. It is a bright blue sky sunny day. The colors outside are deep and intense. Green leaves on a tree branch overhanging the window stir […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[306,95],"class_list":["post-14691","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-life","tag-creepy-dreams","tag-schrodingers-bag-o-laughs"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/brucegarrett.com\/brucelog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14691","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/brucegarrett.com\/brucelog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/brucegarrett.com\/brucelog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/brucegarrett.com\/brucelog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/brucegarrett.com\/brucelog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14691"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/brucegarrett.com\/brucelog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14691\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14693,"href":"https:\/\/brucegarrett.com\/brucelog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14691\/revisions\/14693"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/brucegarrett.com\/brucelog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14691"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/brucegarrett.com\/brucelog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14691"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/brucegarrett.com\/brucelog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14691"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}