For the second night in a row, I had a narsty dream that woke me up, can’t get back to sleep, and woke from the dream with a nosebleed. I’m probably being abducted by aliens or something. I forget the specifics of last night’s dream, but tonight it involved lots of climbing and lots of falling. I was doing a lot of climbing–but not like at Joshua Tree with a harness and rope, and not like bouldering. I was climbing up a steep mountain-side (about 45-75 degrees steep–not vertical, by any means, just very steep) that consisted of dirt and oddly-pointing trees. Several times I was climbing the trunks of the trees because the ground I was climbing got really thin at times (it had stopped being a mountain-side by this point and was more like a ribbon of earth about a meter or two across) and it was sometimes hard to see because of clouds. Eventually, I lost hold of the tree and started falling. And falling. And falling. I knew I would be falling for a minute or so, that’s how high up I was. I also knew that hitting the ground would be fatal, but I was on the east coast and it was morning, so I had to head in the direction of the sun, so I was out over the ocean when I landed. Nevermind that hitting the surface of the ocean at that height would be just as fatal a belly-flop as on land — this is dream country. So what did I do to move? I “swam” through the air. I did that big-arm-stroke thing or whatever it is called (I forgot)–you know, face down, arms spinning in 180-degree offsets in big windmill-like circles. Yeah, anyway. Somehow, I knew this had happened before, and if I got over the ocean, I would be alive, possibly okay, possibly with a few broken bones. The ocean ended up being covered with a sheet of ice. At the moment of impact, I saw a spider web of cracks shoot through the ice as it broke. As is always the case in moments like this, I woke up.
The newspaper delivery guy just dropped a paper on the neighbor’s porch. It must be early. My nose has stopped bleeding, but I’m still awake.