A dream recently
Sep. 4th, 2003 05:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeanvieveSo there we were, three of us, driving a bus to Pennsic or some such SCA event. I was at the wheel, with Gryfen and Number One Son Ito inside. Now, a voyage to Pennsic takes one across the very Heartland of America, which is by turns pretty and utterly depressing depending on your point of view. But I digress.
Hunger was agreed upon, and we took the next exit that had the markings for food and gas. Now, normally we pick the ones that have at least a familiar sounding restaurant on the exit sign. But all there had been were burger joints, and as Gryfen was a piscetarian as well as lactose intolerant, we had to be more choosy. So off we went, with the signs promising something that brought images of diners and down home cooking to mind. (Which meant, for me, misery. Small town diners in middle america tend to have meat bits 'chicken fried' with a white gravy poured over the top with suspicious lumps inside. And limp side salads. But I was outvoted.)
And so we drove into the town, on the equivalent of a business loop. Caught in sepia tones from the 1950's, the town was hazy in the sunset. There was a feel of late summer, when the grass is burned yellow by the sun along with the sky and trees. Cars were parked sporadically here and there by the curbs, all with a dilapidated look that went along with the peeling paint on the buildings and signs. Few looked up as we passed, and no one walked along with any hint of energy. Everyone drooped, as though the brazen sun had beaten the fire out of them with long days and no rain.
Now, if you have never tried to find a place to park a bus, let me tell you now its trickier than it sounds. You don't want to drive into a place you cannot either back out of, or circle the building to the entrance again. Or rather you can, but after so many hours driving I, too, was feeling indisposed to the effort after dinner. So I let my passengers off at the curb on the streetfront and drove around a bit in search of parking. Pulling close against a bit of curb, only to be foiled by the presence of a driveway, a fire hydrant. Being ticketed by small town cops is also something to be avoided. Who knew we carry so much life experience in dreams? I wanted a lecture from a long winded local no more than I wanted to back the bus around an obstacle course.
I found a place across the street at last, and took up 5 spots on the side nearest the diner. Leaving the bus behind, I went in. The front had a small window like a theatre, where I checked for Gryfen and Ito. Who had apparently eaten in the time it took me to find parking. Ah, well. I really wasn't hungry, and had warm thoughts of eating ala Convenience Mart at a midnight gas station while the guys slept somewhere further down the road. Back in the bus. Thank god we're getting outta here. I spare a moment's of pity for a young lad I see standing some distance away, trying to bounce a ball that is not fully inflated. Hope you get a scholarship or something out of here, I thought. Don't grow up and old in a place like this.
And off we go down the road, which bends and twists through the middle of town. Grumbling to myself how much I hate the long business loops that take you through every stoplight going 20 MPH through Nowheresville. And then we're driving through houses, with stopsigns. Then back by the diner. Then through a deserted industrial area, where a steel mill hasn't functioned or employed people for years. Then by a row of stores, and I'm starting to get a little irritable. They don't mark the roads here. No street names. And I can't find anything with a perky blue Interstate is This Way arrow.
And it remains sunset. And the people continue to be where they are, moving slowly and staring out at the bus through dirty shop windows and dusty blinds on the houses. And we're still on the main drag, a business loop. Ah, at last, the outskirts of town. Far to the right I can see the Interstate. And the road I'm on.. curves gently left back toward town. I start to swear that I'm in Hell, and then stop. And there's no one on the bus but me as I stare over at the Interstate. There's a narrow field in between, and a culvert. And new looking cars zoom by in the distance, bright colours and on their way somewhere important. And as I started to figure out how precisely to get the bus to jump the culvert to get back on the Interstate, damn the struts and shocks. Gotta get out of here.
And I woke up. And lay there, wondering if Hell was indeed like a small town in late summer, in a place that never recovered from the depression. And if people stay there because its too hot to get inspired to do great things, and your car can't compete with the shiny new ones in the distance. And your're trapped by your own lack of imagination, by a combination of ennui and hopelessness.
Or maybe I've officially witnessed my own personal hell. I'm sure everyone has one.
Hunger was agreed upon, and we took the next exit that had the markings for food and gas. Now, normally we pick the ones that have at least a familiar sounding restaurant on the exit sign. But all there had been were burger joints, and as Gryfen was a piscetarian as well as lactose intolerant, we had to be more choosy. So off we went, with the signs promising something that brought images of diners and down home cooking to mind. (Which meant, for me, misery. Small town diners in middle america tend to have meat bits 'chicken fried' with a white gravy poured over the top with suspicious lumps inside. And limp side salads. But I was outvoted.)
And so we drove into the town, on the equivalent of a business loop. Caught in sepia tones from the 1950's, the town was hazy in the sunset. There was a feel of late summer, when the grass is burned yellow by the sun along with the sky and trees. Cars were parked sporadically here and there by the curbs, all with a dilapidated look that went along with the peeling paint on the buildings and signs. Few looked up as we passed, and no one walked along with any hint of energy. Everyone drooped, as though the brazen sun had beaten the fire out of them with long days and no rain.
Now, if you have never tried to find a place to park a bus, let me tell you now its trickier than it sounds. You don't want to drive into a place you cannot either back out of, or circle the building to the entrance again. Or rather you can, but after so many hours driving I, too, was feeling indisposed to the effort after dinner. So I let my passengers off at the curb on the streetfront and drove around a bit in search of parking. Pulling close against a bit of curb, only to be foiled by the presence of a driveway, a fire hydrant. Being ticketed by small town cops is also something to be avoided. Who knew we carry so much life experience in dreams? I wanted a lecture from a long winded local no more than I wanted to back the bus around an obstacle course.
I found a place across the street at last, and took up 5 spots on the side nearest the diner. Leaving the bus behind, I went in. The front had a small window like a theatre, where I checked for Gryfen and Ito. Who had apparently eaten in the time it took me to find parking. Ah, well. I really wasn't hungry, and had warm thoughts of eating ala Convenience Mart at a midnight gas station while the guys slept somewhere further down the road. Back in the bus. Thank god we're getting outta here. I spare a moment's of pity for a young lad I see standing some distance away, trying to bounce a ball that is not fully inflated. Hope you get a scholarship or something out of here, I thought. Don't grow up and old in a place like this.
And off we go down the road, which bends and twists through the middle of town. Grumbling to myself how much I hate the long business loops that take you through every stoplight going 20 MPH through Nowheresville. And then we're driving through houses, with stopsigns. Then back by the diner. Then through a deserted industrial area, where a steel mill hasn't functioned or employed people for years. Then by a row of stores, and I'm starting to get a little irritable. They don't mark the roads here. No street names. And I can't find anything with a perky blue Interstate is This Way arrow.
And it remains sunset. And the people continue to be where they are, moving slowly and staring out at the bus through dirty shop windows and dusty blinds on the houses. And we're still on the main drag, a business loop. Ah, at last, the outskirts of town. Far to the right I can see the Interstate. And the road I'm on.. curves gently left back toward town. I start to swear that I'm in Hell, and then stop. And there's no one on the bus but me as I stare over at the Interstate. There's a narrow field in between, and a culvert. And new looking cars zoom by in the distance, bright colours and on their way somewhere important. And as I started to figure out how precisely to get the bus to jump the culvert to get back on the Interstate, damn the struts and shocks. Gotta get out of here.
And I woke up. And lay there, wondering if Hell was indeed like a small town in late summer, in a place that never recovered from the depression. And if people stay there because its too hot to get inspired to do great things, and your car can't compete with the shiny new ones in the distance. And your're trapped by your own lack of imagination, by a combination of ennui and hopelessness.
Or maybe I've officially witnessed my own personal hell. I'm sure everyone has one.
