Day 47 - 8/8/21 - Sun

On Day 47, dreams morph into nightmares. But the real drama isn't from my mind; it's from the kitchen, and it's not because of the "For Inmate Consumption Only" menu.

Journal Entry:

“It’s 1:46 AM. I had a dream about MyH. I dream so rarely here. And I’ve dreamed about her so very little in the past two and a half years, I thought I would document it before it fades. (Note: Glad I did, as I rewrite this, I couldn’t remember the dream until I read it again.)

DREAM: I was going into a crowded mall (now, you know it’s a dream). MyH was waiting for someone, leaning against a wall. She saw me, and I kept walking, but then I turned around, and she was gone. I kept walking through this huge mall, listening to my prison radio (?). A station came through my headset, and T.P. and H. were doing some kind of call-in talk show (Ghosts of Maine Airs?). I kept searching in the Mall, kind of trying to find her. But not really. Odd.

I did a mini-workout (quietly) and tried to get back to sleep. Was successful, and had another dream about H., except a much darker one.

DREAM #2: A bunch of us were riding somewhere in a big, Suburban-type vehicle. I was either driving or riding on the passenger side in the front seat. The vehicle was full, but the faces were unknown to me except for H. and T.P. were in the far back seat, like in the trunk part. We kept going faster and faster. Then I saw trees coming at us, but then we were going into the trees, over the cliff, and into the ocean (?). Narrowly missing these big, sharp stalagmite-type rocks that were sticking on the shoreline. At first, I just opened my door to get out, but I knew I had to make sure everyone else got out. As the vehicle sank into the ocean, I got them all out and watched them swim towards the shore. Everyone except H. and T.P. I swam back to the submerging vehicle, and as I approached their floating bodies, I woke up.

Skipped Breakfast, actually slept through it. Since I fell right back asleep, I may change my Wellbutrin Strategy.

BRUNCH: I got four French Toasts, maybe because I am now on Team Foodcrew. With a Hat and everything. Two hard-boiled eggs, potato wedges. More drama in the kitchen/dining room. Toward the end of Brunch, a guy (D.W., who also works in the kitchen) yelled across the dining room to Lo Mein, ‘Why are you staring at me right in my face?!?’ or something like that. Then at the end of clean up, the head kitchen inmate (I think) asked Lo Mein to sweep up the water in the kitchen. Lo Mein did it for a few seconds, then stopped. A few minutes later, D.W. was yelling at him again. ‘Is this how you sweep up water? ‘Cause I’m about to do it!’ ‘I don’t know,’ was Lo Mein’s response. That back and forth exchange went on for several minutes. As I already wrote, Lo Mein is not a very well-liked buy in this place, for aforementioned reasons.

Worked on Outer Justice, writing random scenes. Got to come up with a good start to an arc that will flow throughout the series. I mean, the real arc is the hunt for Judge Dark’s wife killer and whatever that story turns into. But I also have to have a background arc, something going on, maybe a slow-building rebellion against the Corporation-contaminated Earth Forces. I don’t know, maybe an opening that covers three Kindle books.

SUPPER: Tacos, creamed corn, white rice, beans. No dinner show, uneventful meal compared to lunch.

Finally got an email from T. She said her service was turned off, but I suspect it is something else. I tried to call again tonight. One ring, and that’s it. I called Mom; she is going to try to contact her. Mom, by the way, is staying with one of T.’s neighbors, a houseguest. Not cool. Sigh. Went outside, no laps, tomorrow for sure. So tired. Good night.”

Notes for Day 47 (Four Years Later)

This entry’s notes start with a little dream analysis. I’ve always been a fan of dreaming. Some of my earliest memories were, in fact, dreams. A bald witch invaded our trailer on the back settlement road in Mattawamkeag, Maine, seduced my father, and tried to kill the rest of the family. That was a dream I had when I was six or seven years old. Ask me about anything else that happened in reality, and I will have little or no memory of it. But vivid, nightmarish scenes of that dream still live with me fifty years later.

So as a writer, dreaming has always been a great source of inspiration and mental energy (for lack of a better phrase) to write.

These rare incarcerated dreams, for whatever reason, were focused on my ex-girlfriend and were very vivid and real to me. After waking up that morning, I started thinking of H. and my old life and all that I had lost, or, I guess, sacrificed. But I was able to use the old ‘Old World-This World’ technique and move on with my day. I'd like to talk about H. here and all my swirling thoughts about the situation, but I am going to refrain for now for various reasons.

Let’s continue on with the ongoing Camp/Kitchen Drama. Lo Mein continued to be a great source of controversy and, I guess, stories, really. But what I want to discuss here is D.W. At first, I thought he always looked angry and was one of those people in prison you don’t want to cross. I, like many others, avoided contact with D.W. That is, until I got to know him. Then he became a good friend, as much as one can have friends in prison. He had been incarcerated for a long time (too long). He had worked his way down from the real prison behind the wall. But he still had seven or eight years ahead of him.

D.W. was a geyser of important information, not only about the prison system but really life in general. Plus, he ‘forced’ me to learn and do Sudokus. Which he did by regularly stopping by my CubiCell and discussing the puzzle while he was doing it. Now, I’m not a big fan of puzzles; living life, to me, gives me enough practice on puzzles. But he would come along, show me something about it, and then hand it to me and say, “Now you finish it.” And damned if I didn’t get hooked on doing Sudokus. An ‘addiction’ I still enjoy today, even as an almost free man.

#Dreams

#prison

#sudoku