My First COVID Dream
I must be feeling better because last night was the first time ina long time that I can remember having an early morning dream. Lately, for perhaps the last month, I have been consistently waking an hour too early and trying to make up for it by pretending I was fully awake, sometimes going so far as to brush my teeth and then going back to bed to try to restart my circadian clock. It almost never worked.
But, late last night I apparently began a typical dream involving my going out. There was someone else in the dream and they were headed for the same destination and may even have been a little impatient with me. I remember there was a long bit of business involving grooming my hair which in the dream had grown long and luxurious.
I have a feeling that this started as a "gay" dream, perhaps inspired by the death of my next door neighbor with whom I shared a history of pub crawling when we were younger. I seem to remember being on Third Avenue one last time and having a hearty meal at Sarge's - or, some place very like it.
And then, mysteriously, the venue changed to Brooklyn. It was Atlantic Avenue as it was in the 1980s and 90s, a place described in marvelous detail by Jonathan Lethem in novels like "Motherless Brooklyn" and "Fortress of Solitude", a landscape of warehouses, cash register wholesalers as well as thrift stores and barber shops. It was a plaace where ordinary people were able to scrape by. I lived there for many years and the dream was hearkening back to those years. But, with one difference. A health crisis of some sort had made it unsafe to return to my regular apartment (ostensibly, after spending the evening pub crawling in Manhattan) and I somehow acquired a ticket or invitation, entitling me to stay at a safe house of some sort.
What was interesting was the fact that the safe house was located on the block behind where I actually lived. Its main feature seemed to be that it took up the entire block seemingly as one long row of gray houses of some vintage. Inside, they were connected by a central hallway. But, as often happens in my dreams, I was unable to find the specific apartment that had been assigned to me. I remember the number 409 being part of the identification but either there was no fourth floor - there was a fifth floor and there was a number 509 - but, when explored further the floor beneath consisted of nothing but utility rooms. For some odd reason, the fifth floor was the ground floor.
I explored outside and was struck by the building's central feature which seemed to be a series of high, vaulted casement windows, the kind that might have sheltered a gymnasium or YMCA. But, the dream ended shortly thereafter.
But, late last night I apparently began a typical dream involving my going out. There was someone else in the dream and they were headed for the same destination and may even have been a little impatient with me. I remember there was a long bit of business involving grooming my hair which in the dream had grown long and luxurious.
I have a feeling that this started as a "gay" dream, perhaps inspired by the death of my next door neighbor with whom I shared a history of pub crawling when we were younger. I seem to remember being on Third Avenue one last time and having a hearty meal at Sarge's - or, some place very like it.
And then, mysteriously, the venue changed to Brooklyn. It was Atlantic Avenue as it was in the 1980s and 90s, a place described in marvelous detail by Jonathan Lethem in novels like "Motherless Brooklyn" and "Fortress of Solitude", a landscape of warehouses, cash register wholesalers as well as thrift stores and barber shops. It was a plaace where ordinary people were able to scrape by. I lived there for many years and the dream was hearkening back to those years. But, with one difference. A health crisis of some sort had made it unsafe to return to my regular apartment (ostensibly, after spending the evening pub crawling in Manhattan) and I somehow acquired a ticket or invitation, entitling me to stay at a safe house of some sort.
What was interesting was the fact that the safe house was located on the block behind where I actually lived. Its main feature seemed to be that it took up the entire block seemingly as one long row of gray houses of some vintage. Inside, they were connected by a central hallway. But, as often happens in my dreams, I was unable to find the specific apartment that had been assigned to me. I remember the number 409 being part of the identification but either there was no fourth floor - there was a fifth floor and there was a number 509 - but, when explored further the floor beneath consisted of nothing but utility rooms. For some odd reason, the fifth floor was the ground floor.
I explored outside and was struck by the building's central feature which seemed to be a series of high, vaulted casement windows, the kind that might have sheltered a gymnasium or YMCA. But, the dream ended shortly thereafter.