The torch

I was in a large room bright enough to see across*.
It was lit on the far end by what looked like a match.
It was a torch.
I began to see movement here and there.
Just shadows moving.
Then I began to wonder where I was.
Then I began to try to move.
When I realized I couldn't move I panicked.
I woke up choking and sweating.
It was like a bad novel.


It was like what I write.
That is why I never made it as a fiction writer.
My stories just make people scratch their heads.
As for editors I made their job easy.
"We are only accepting blah blah blah".
I can't tell you how many times I heard that.
But this was not a piece of fiction.
It was my dream.
I decided to look for an analyst.


I tried someone who called himself a dream worker.
Fine.
He said start writing down all your dreams.
Jot down whatever you recall for a week.
Even if it is just a fragment..
Write a few notes about what happened the day before.
Send me whatever you have after a week.
That's all I need from you to get started.


How much do you charge? I asked.
How much do you make an hour? he asked.
I'm retired I said.
How much did you make hourly when you worked?
About 18 dollars.
That is what I will charge you then.
How does that sound?


It sounded too good to be true.
Was this guy for real?
For the next week I had no more dreams.
I never paid much attention to dreams before.
That's not quite true.
I had terrible nightmares when I was 20.


A psychiatrist put me on Prozac.
I slept pretty well.
The bad dreams stopped.
I stopped dreaming entirely.
My life improved.


My moods "stabilized".
I went off prozac.
Then there was Zoloft.
Then there was Lexapro.


Then I hurt my back on a job.
I went on pain pills.
I got addicted


I got off pain pills
I tried acupuncture last Monday.


Monday night I had this dream

.......................

*Line from This is happiness by Niall Williams