A Journal of my adventures in the world I inhabit while I'm asleep.
|I'm a teenage kid tonight in Dreamland. I'm riding around in the back of a beat up old van partying with a bunch of my buddies, like I did back in the day. Except it's not the past, it's the future. (Such is the logic of dreams).
We're driving through a National Forest up North, looking for a campground for the night. We pull into a likely spot and everyone gets out and starts setting up their stuff. It's a hot and dusty campground, not at all like Maine used to be when I was younger. Some of the spruce trees are dying, victims of global warming and pine beetles, no doubt.
I walk over to use the bathroom, "You don't buy beer, you only rent it," as they say. On my way back a small polar bear, maybe the size of a Labrador Retriever comes charging at me, growling. I'm holding a book in my hand which I throw at the bear, hitting him square in the nose. This distracts him and I run back towards the campsite.
Before I can get there another bear charges at me and chomps onto my right hand. He's younger than the first one, smaller, maybe a couple feet long. He'd be cute if he wasn't biting my hand. I shake him off and keep running.
My friends have already thrown everything back in the van. "Hurry up, get in, we gotta get the fuck outta here!" they call to me.
I jump in the van and we take off. One of the girls sees my hand is bleeding and hands me a bottle of whiskey. "Here, you'll need this."
I take a good swig of it and she says "No, stupid! You need to rinse out the bite with it to kill the germs!"
"OK, I can do that too," I say, and I pour the whiskey on the cuts.
One of my buddies hands me a rag and I wrap it over my hand. "So where'd the bears come from?" I ask him.
"They're evolving. Getting smaller, less fur, more tolerant to the heat. The ice up north is melting so they're moving south, into the forests. The ranger warned us to keep an eye out for them, I guess we weren't paying attention."
"So what do we do now?"
"There's another campground about an hour south of here, bears shouldn't be in that one yet... Is your hand OK? You need stitches or anything?"
"Nah, I had worse bites from my dog when he was a pup. Besides, bleeding's already stopped." I say.
Someone hands me a bong and I take a healthy toke. I lean back and enjoy the buzz. Might as well get comfortable and enjoy the ride...