These Dreams

I had such an involved and exciting dream both last night (4th) and the night before (the 3rd). We're talking superpowers, end-of-the-world stakes, and me flying.

I LOVE to fly in my dreams. My brain provides all the perceived aerodynamics for this type of undertaking. Overtaking, actually. It's as if gravity recognizes that I have an unseen canopy array of feathers under my arms, attached to my body, and with the right run speed, uplift, currents, and powerstrokes, I can get airborne. It usually lasts as long as it takes to get to the altitude I need, for whatever given task.

The last dream involved a small comicbook shop located on the ground level of a neighborhood planted beneath a highway underpass. I was from the Other Side of Town and was alerted that the more well-known shop that I frequented had closed down, and a lesser-known one had moved to this small, cramped location. But when going in, I found the wonder I was searching for. I found Today's Geek, browsing the spinner racks. Today's Geek is the more successful version of me, who I've been running into over at Geek Central and a new Geek Central where four guys get together on Skype and wax eloquently, competently, and expertly on the medium of comicbooks. When I was 17, this talk consisted of "Spiderman could kick Batman's ASS!" But now, the 17 year-olders of yesteryear are talking about price points, paperstock, reader quality, abstract color schemes, and artist conceptions as compared to graphic culture of the 60's, 70's, 80's and 90's. This they do while mentioning their wives, their children, their careers as programmers, stock-market analysts, art directors, independent publishers, and comicbook artists. Drawing Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman no less.

In this dream, I had finally gotten that physical proximity I have been longing for. The chance to read their body language. To see how they responded to each other and to me. I was there with no fear, no social phobia, no reservations. I was there with no agenda. I was just being me.

And that's when disaster struck.

As is the nature of dreams, I of course knew nothing of the nature of the disaster. Just that something real foul was afoot and many lives were in danger. And into our heroes identities we sprang. I had no time to take notice of who they all were because I had my own mission and responsibility to fill. And to the skies I took!

And that's really the only vestiges of memory I have left. I woke with a very satisfied feeling. And yet, in realizing that I was actually on Earth Prime, where no one flew without mechanical device, and that I still was a singleton with likeminded geeks still so so far away from me, I was a little achy. A little melacholy. More than a little unfufilled.

My social needs are screaming. This aloneness is ridiculous. This "thing" about life--it's meant for more than one. It's all too obvious now.

"Someone come.
Come my someone."