Dreams

This morning, I won an 8-mile trail-running race (6:31-minute miles, mind you), clearly beating an ex-from-nearly-10-years-ago's time. The trail was bright green, wet, and hilly. The organizers of the event forgot to record my time, but it was okay, because my ex saw that I had beat him and that's all that mattered. Then, I hopped on a small sailboat to circumnavigate a small, snowy volcanic cone south of Mt. Rainier. This small volcano usually had water in its crater [I had seen it from above before], but today it was cold and full of snow. After drifting past half of it, I straightened the sailboat's wheel, steering straight towards one of southern Norway's fjords.

As I drifted further and further into the fjord, the waterway narrowed and oak trees squeezed in on either side; it was very dark, but peaceful. Upon arrival to a dock, I wasn't sure how to actually stop [the boat], and two friendly men helped tie the lines. Then one of them asked me for a favor, and me, unsure if I could actually understand what he was going to say [in Norwegian], smiled and tried to listen very carefully:

"Will you make sure somebody read's our wills when we die?"

I said hurriedly, "Oh, yes! Yes! Of course!" [I didn't want to let them down due to a language barrier]

Realizing that I could understand every single word [of Norwegian], and how somber a topic they had brought up, I was a little confused. I responded as if they had asked me for a cup of tea.

"Sorry...," I said slowly, "I didn't mean to say yes so fast. I hope you live for a very long time!"

They laughed and went back to their business [wood-working?]. I wasn't sure if I had offended them or not. I guess not.

When I turned around back to the boat, I went below. It was warm and cozy inside. Lanterns were lit and maps were folded over a table. Not sure why I was there or what I should do next, I decided to see if I could "unpark" the boat and head out of the fjord. It was a little embarrassing, you see, because I was bumping into everything [gently] and paddling with my hands and legs to steer the boat. I did manage to get it out of the fjord,... eventually, and with an audience trying not to stare.

While I was exiting, I found what appeared to be a black power switch on the side and worked out how to turn on the boat's engine. Steering became immensely easier! But I also had more speed. I could go forward, neutral, and backward, just like the bass-fishing boat on Grand Lake. I headed back towards the small, snowy volcanic cone.

It was autumn and the sun was beginning to set. Dark, navy blues and pale yellows striped the sea and sky; there was no wind. The small, snowy volcanic cone was a magnificent white. I'm not sure where Mt. Rainier went. I turned the boat around to go back into the fjord. I wanted to try parking the boat again [with an engine] and sell runny honey to anyone who wanted it, because time was now going backwards, and it was mid-afternoon.

I eased alongside the wooden, water-laden dock nervously. Now there were three people working on the dock; a woman and the same two men. But it had worked, the boat was parked and I required no assistance from the three locals. I went below [the boat] to retrieve the honey. I found three square, glass jars, turning one over in my hand and watching the honey settle.

Then:

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNK 


I woke up.


...thanks for coughing into my ear this morning, dear.