LONG ROAD HOME
It's the same dream every night. I am barrelling down a narrow country road. It is haphazardly constructed of packed dirt and has a frightening tendency to randomly pull the car to the side at inopportune moments. I am racing along that narrow road, the forlorn tamaracks and evergreens in the swamp on either side of the road rocketing by in a ferocious green blur.
The rain spatters on the windshield and is slowly disbursed to the outer edges where the drops fly off into oblivion. I accelerate further, pushing the car well beyond its capabilities.
I am in a rush to get home, there is something important happening there, or someone important waiting for me there, and I push forward with increased urgency.
The faster I push, the further it feels I have to travel. the road stretches ever onward, extending further and further into the distance. It is almost like that old film technique Hitchcock pioneered where the troubled main character appears to remain stationary while the background recedes into the distance.
I feel my chest tightening in anticipation. Whatever it is I am rushing towards, I am going to be late.
It dawns on me around then, that this road does not look like any of the roads that are near my home. It is a country road for starters, and I live in the city. In the flawed logic of dreams, however, I am able to acknowledge that there is something familiar about this route. Something oddly recognizable.
I am pondering this very dilemma when a large furry man ape steps from the swamp and pauses in the middle of the road. It is a Sasquatch, mammoth in stature, and it looks just as terrified as I suddenly feel. There is no time to react; no time to take evasive maneuvers. I slam into the creature lower leg and it slams into the interior of the car at the same moment that I am ejected from it. We share a confused look as we soar past each other.
I am still flying through the air, when I suddenly awake.
Inevitably, I spend the next few days feeling as though there is something that I am forgetting.
It is the same thing every time.
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