Point of Departure

Downtown in Cleveland somewhere.  There were crowds of people filling the streets everywhere.  It was impossible to even consider trying to drive through these crowds, so my wife and I decided to park the car in a small lot behind a run-down brick building and continue on foot.  I griped that it was way too far to walk, but my wife assured me that we’d be there before we knew it.  We turned the corner onto a wide main street which sloped down away from us.  From the high ground I could see a vast river of people stretched out before me, channeled by the banks formed by the tall buildings on either side.  There was a constant roar of excited chatter, and there were even streamers and confetti in the air above everyone’s heads, along with that strange, dizzy haze that’s caused by a large mob of people.

Before long, this river of people carried us down by the docks along the lakefront.  There were several boats anchored alongside one another.  The crowds poured up the ramps to the different boats.  I noted with some relief that the ramps were quite easily accessible, not as narrow and precarious as some I’d seen.  We seemed to instinctively know which boat was ours, and we headed eagerly up the ramp.  At the top, I could see out over the lake.  Some of the boats were already loaded and on the water.  The setting sun was half-dipped in the lake and huge on the horizon.  I turned to my wife.  A warm breeze blew through.  I had no idea where we were going.

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6 thoughts on “Point of Departure

  1. Even if we were going some place good, I would have woken up really uncomfortable and pissed off. Don't even like small crowds of people I know, let alone mobs of strangers.

    My veri word- “cotoxics” Two things that are poisonous when placed together. Or two people. You know the type.

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  2. Actually, if I had to venture a guess, I would say that the dream is probably about death. But that's just the text book interpretation, and not really my gut instinct. That's one of the reason I don't dwell too much on interpretation, especially Freudian interpretation with its dark repressed urges. It always seems to cast a cloud over even the happiest of dreams. I'm far more interested in the experience of the dream itself, which was, as you ask, somewhat exciting, but sort of melancholy like being present for some joyous historical event that happened a long time ago.

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  3. Freud was repressed himself. All of his interpretations stem from his own personal neuroses. I don't think dreams are ever really “about” anything. They just are.

    How existential is that?

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  4. I think “meaning” can be found in them, as in they can reveal things about our psyche, but sometimes people seem to operate under the notion that dreams exist primarily to express this meaning. That's like saying your handwriting exists so that it can be analyzed by a handwriting expert.

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