-Mobile continuation from Xanga blog PinkyGuerrero
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-Personal blog for Janika Banks.
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Saturday, January 24, 2015

where were you last night?

Some dreams are as real as life to me.

I was in another country, making my way through a territory of very rich and very poor, looking for clues. I knew it was extremely dangerous and I had lost all contact with back up, but I was furthest in, so I kept going.

A dirt road used by a mining and construction company wound up a thickly forested mountainside, and I knew I stood out like a sore thumb to everyone walking on that road. Nearly everyone I met was walking. There were no vehicles other than a monster construction rig here and there, but most of those were shut down. Near the end of the road was a lush community hall, large and bustling with workers of all kinds, and as walkers arrived, they went looking for their areas to work. I couldn't help noticing there were a lot more children than I expected, also way better behaved than one would expect. Over a little time and sneaking around in and out of kitchens, large hallways, meeting areas, and staff areas, I pieced together that nearly all the workers in every capacity were more like slaves than anything, there for their lives, not because they got paychecks and went home at the end of the day, including the children.

I had to be especially careful of the children. The adults quietly sidling around were in a kind of acceptance where they could allow denial to cover their thoughts and just focus on their chores. The children were different- alert and ready to react, even though they obviously held themselves in check well enough. At one point, a little girl about six or seven years old dressed up in fancy clothes and expensive jewelry and makeup darted away from her little gang, grabbed my hand, and said with her head tilted and her eyes looking at me sideways, "It's further down than you think." She looked deadly serious for such a little girl, and I knew better than to assume I could talk to her. I only said, "What is, the depths of hell?", and she let go of my hand with an evil laugh, rejoined her little gang, and they continued on their way, one of the older girls quietly admonishing the one who talked to me. After that I felt marked, anyone younger than 15 glanced at me no matter where I was. Boys especially would make little taunts if they dared, because they didn't want to draw more attention to themselves, either. I got a little worried for a little while that one older gang of boys would jump me and knock me down. They kept following me around and whispering and laughing among themselves, but ducked back if I went near any place they could be noticed and get into trouble, so I got the impression they were bored and a little high strung with nerves while they waited for their work to begin.

All this time I was eluding being spotted by some very particular grown ups, ducking down behind rows of seating, dodging through a big coat closet, weaving through a busy kitchen, catching conversations from angles where I wasn't seen. I still have no clue what I was doing there and what knowledge I was gaining, but I felt some quickly growing concern that it was bigger and more immediate than anyone thought, and I had to find a way back out of there to get the information back to my own people. I didn't see how, though. I would definitely be noticed going the wrong way down the mountain, and I knew the woods were full of snipers.

Fortunately, some kind of warning siren went off, and the lush community building (very large, built right into the side of the mountain, everything in there screamed of money to burn) emptied out, and as I made my way back through the wide entry (reminded me of a convention center at that point) I didn't worry so much about standing out because everyone was headed the same direction, mostly children, still in their little groups, very orderly and quiet and frightened. We all headed back down the dirt road.

I was piecing together by this point that the girls were have supposed to have been part of the entertainment for a very large underground business meeting, and while some of the youngest boys were probably meant for the same, the older boys had other jobs, like gofers on up to heavy lifters and carriers. A few of the older boys had bikes, and one of the biker boys going by me stopped to pick up a couple of small silver tablets that had been dropped in the dust along the road, just smaller than a hand. They were obviously worth a lot, like a krugerrand bar, only a little bigger and heavier.

Some of the younger girls became a little frantic when they realized they were simply going back, which was understandable. They clearly only had the bigger girls to calm them, likely taken away from their parents, or even sold, but I didn't have time to worry about that. I had to find a way off that dirt road because heavy trucks were coming up, and if I were caught I'd probably be interrogated to death. I was thrilled to notice part of the road went over a lazy river, and I remembered the little girl saying "It's further down than you think." At that moment I felt a little hand again, and without even looking around I stepped up to the edge of the bridge and gauged the distance. It was a very long drop, but there was a deeper spot in the river we could plunge into if we pushed off hard enough. Without hesitation, me and two little girls, all holding hands, leapt off the bridge as hard as we could.

The water was warmer than I thought it would be. I've been in an icy cold river on a camping trip that took my breath away, but this river wasn't that cold. I knew all we had to do was relax and push up from the bottom when we felt it at our feet. Just relax and hold my breath. Don't worry about anything, push and float up. I could feel us floating up. It was taking a little longer than I thought, maybe I should start kicking a little. I was still holding hands with one little girl, and I couldn't tell if she was still holding hands with the other. I tried to look up and see how close the surface was, maybe about two more feet. Suddenly I lost my control and breathed in a little breath. I knew that meant I'd drown and started thrashing for the surface before I could start coughing, but in that very same moment I was also very surprised I wasn't feeling water in my lungs and didn't feel a compulsive coughing coming on.

I woke up and took a big breath. I was lying in my bed. I wasn't drowning and there wasn't anything else going on.

I do this once in awhile, maybe several times a year. I dream I'm someone else, and it's all very real. When I wake up I'm very surprised to find myself 'back', because I had no thoughts of myself or my life here during the dream. It took me a long time to figure out I'm not me as I know me in dreams like these. It's like I'm inside someone else watching everything that happens. I generally don't question anything or try to change anything because I'm not aware in the dream that it's not me. Usually what ends these dreams is my self awareness filtering through. I was holding my breath in my sleep because I believed I was in the water. I breathed in my sleep and believed I would drown. I've actually drowned several times in dreams like these, so I feel like I know what it feels like to drown. I know I didn't drown in this dream because what I felt was me breathing in my bed, not in the water. Whoever that person was in the river, I hope she got away. I usually never learn anything more once I have awakened. It's like I've put a book down or turned a movie off, and I can't pick it back up or turn it back on.

Being an observer in dreams doesn't mean I know what's going on. Mostly, I just remember stuff that happens, details along the way, but I have no memory or even a clue why I was infiltrating an underground meeting in another country, or what happened to cancel it and evacuate the building. I don't know anything else about who I was, like what my name was or what I actually looked like, but I'm pretty sure I was a woman this time. I got a strong sense of being under cover, but I didn't think about why during the dream. I only thought about each next move that had to be made. You can tell when my awareness starts filtering into this dream when I have my own memories about being in a much colder river. If I truly do experience another person when I have these kinds of dreams, I have often wondered if my own memories or fears filtering back in confuse them.

I've been having dreams like this all of my life. I remember telling my mother when I was still very small that I exploded. I wasn't able to tell her at the time that I didn't understand how I could explode and still be here. I tried to tell her I was a man. I think she was very disturbed when I tried to tell her my dreams, and I just learned to stop trying. I can still see that dream in my mind as clearly as I did then. I wore a suit and carried a case, I tried to get away, something went all wrong, I exploded. I was very surprised when I woke up and I was a little girl again.

Consider this post a teaser for my book. I'm sorry it's taking so long to get it out there.

By the way, there's a big Chuck watch on the 27th. My own tagged tweet is so buried I'm just grabbing the latest one at the moment. Click the snip to follow the Chuck Movie account. Sorry, I have no other info about where this is showing or what the plan is except this facebook group, which is closed, so it's up to you to dig. Good luck to Chuck fans, I'm not holding my breath, but I agree that was a cool show.

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