“I’m not back. I’m dreaming.”

Well it seems that I’ve fully accepted my reality. After lunch I laid down and napped. I found myself in a continuation of my dream from last night. This time I was hanging out with Roxanne and a variety of others whose names and faces were friendly but not quite clear to me. We were all outside, enjoying the weather and playing about. At a point someone from the group said that they were all glad to have me back, to which I rejoined, “Oh, I’m not back. I’m dreaming.” This unleashed a bevy of enthusiastic laughter from all. I continued by explaining how I’d had this dream previously where ‘I took some convincing I was free because of a nagging feeling to the contrary,’ amidst more laughter, ‘only to learn that nagging feeling was justified.’

 This time I was more hip to what was happening. 

I didn’t seem to be all that convincing to anyone as they continued to chuckle irreverently. “Let’s all head into town,” they said as they piled into a van. “We can pick up some wood while we’re at it,” said another. I could see there wasn’t room for me in the van or for any wood for that matter. I spun around to see another vehicle which I presumed was for me to use and follow along, but before anything further could happen, the obligatory sounds of a jail house meal being readied, stirred me awake. The bumping, knocking and dragging of tables and chairs outside my door are not only an effective alarm clock for a jailbird but an abrupt reminder of my inescapable reality.

I can’t ever recall rejoining an interrupted dream quite like that. There certainly has been an occasion or two where I’ve come back to a dream after stirring in my sleep. Perhaps after getting back from relieving myself even. But to be awake and fully conscious all morning? To have read 100 pages of my book, the newspaper and have lunch, only to return to that same place in my subconscious speaks to how much this restricted life is working me over.