One Spring Break during college my brother Marc and I drove down to Florida in our beige four door diesel Rabbit. Actually, we drove down to Florida several times in that fuel efficient machine that lacked air conditioning, whose radio did not play louder than the engine at highway speed and had a top speed of 65mph. That is 65 miles per hour with the wind at your back while going downhill. On this one particular trip there was the usual mix of various Gulf of Mexico beaches, retirement community poolside tanning, and an occasional night out while trying to meet grandma's curfew. One afternoon I napped in the twin bed beside Marc as he read. It was a hot uncomfortable midday nap. I woke from my nap with one of those jet propelled leaps that reflects the final actions of a dream, usually a nightmare. Marc saw this panicked leap and in his Mr. Spock Vulcan way asked about the specific details of the dream and how they corresponded with the physical behavior that he had just witnessed. So I told him...."it was all very vague. no real details of anything other than that I was riding my bike. it was not the perspective of seeing me ride a bike, but rather the perspective one sees from the bike, even more so like the perspective one would see through a video camera as filmed by a person riding a bike. riding along in a casual manner, nothing happening to cause any danger or to evoke any fear, then when all of a sudden my perspective shifted from the world around me to my stem and handlebars and then the front wheel. It was the start of an ENDO; you know...a POLISH WHEELIE! the earth in front of me had become this white mass. That mass engulfed my front wheel, halting my bike's progress, yet laws of motion kept me hurling forward. Flying over the handlebars and out of the bed. Ending with one of those questions....If you die in your dream, do you die in real life? I almost bumped my head in my dream and almost bumped my head in real life as these were times when helmets were not worn (either in bed or on the bicycle)"
That was it. No real explanation of the the story. Not any deep meaning. And no great discussion. It was a basic meaningless dream. We laughed about how silly I looked and maybe even discussed dreams and dreaming. That is all a distant memory that is not so significant that I can recall. The rest of our Spring Break went along as each Spring Break prior and each Spring Break after. We pissed off our grandmother and she was happy that we left, we got a massive sunburn on one of the first days in FLorida and our tans started to peel as we crossed into South Carolina and were gone by the time we passed through North Carolina, and most importantly....there had not been any Spring Break romance.
The rest of the college semester went along as uneventful as the rest, or perhaps as eventful as the rest. I can not recall. Right now the "glory days" are forgotten, it would take a case of Natty Boh (National Bohemian) or Milwalkee's Best to help me to recall what college was all about. After the semester ended I headed back to my parent's home in Bethesda and enthusiastically got back in the swing of summer with my summer job, bicycle messenger.
One hot summer day headed back from work I linked up with fellow B-CC graduate Scott Llewellyn. He was back for the summer as well and also working as a messenger. We rode fast through traffic, splitting lanes, running lights, and taking all sorts of unnecessary risks that I still take now. There was a bond and their was a rivalry, we each rode hard, yet were at a relaxed enough pace to carry on a bit of a conversation. As we climbed the Conneticut Avenue hill at Van Ness UDC Scott recommended that we take a left, as his parent' s house was a tad further west than mine, it was not out of the way so I followed along. As we meandered down a side street with less traffic our pace dropped and we put more emphasis on the conversation. (which more than likely revolved around topics like...."where are you drinking tonight?" or "have you seen this girl or that girl?") ahead the road was blocked off with those construction horses with the darkness activated flashing light, well you see less of them now, but they were commonplace many years ago. We split the horses and rode on the textured concrete that would be the sublayer of road beneath the black asphalt that had yet to be laid. The road continued with a pattern of breaks in the road, some cross streets still being active, then another set of reflective construction barriers with the darkness activated blinking light. As we passed through the last set of barriers I felt my momentum slow. I looked forward and saw my stem and handlebars. Then my front wheel. The earth in front of me was white and engulfed my front wheel, I started flying over the handlebars. Just like the dream. Only it was not a dream. I tried to get up, but my balance was off and my legs were like jello. I stepped forward and stumbled again. Had I hit my head, had my whole sense of balance been thrown off? I noticed Scott was laughing, then a jogger was laughing, I looked at Scott and saw he was covered in wet concrete, I looked at myself and saw that I was covered in wet concrete. The laughter came on fast and heavy as my mind put together the actions that had just taken place. I stepped forward to brace myself as the laughter grew stronger, each footstep went deep into the freshly poured concrete. We had both gone over the handlebars landed unhurt with no damage to our bikes. It was a scene from some bad Disney film that was never made. Things like this do not happen in real life.
Then there was the memory of the dream. It never explained itself. It never became clear. Why a preminition of this?
back to this in a few
would like to proof read this if I have a second
hate ranting on
and not having it appear the least bit readable