Dream State

For much of the past week, my head has felt heavy and I've been very drowsy. I think it has to do with the massive thaw that has struck our city, particularly over the weekend, when the beginning of spring brought sunshine and temperatures to the positive double digits.

With the thaw, the snow has melted with breakneck speed, exposing wet lawns and dormant plants, and with them, mold and spores. My sinuses suffer every year at this time, and this year I seem to be hit heavier than usual.

Though I did manage to get out and enjoy the warmth, I didn't spend a lot of time outside and, when I returned indoors, all I wanted to do was lie down and close my eyes. I can't tell you the number of times I drifted off when DW and I were watching some of our favourite shows on our various streaming services. I'm going to have to re-watch a couple of shows to pick up the missed scenes.

As I wrote last week, for about a month or so DW and I have been getting up early in the morning to try and reserve a camp spot at one of Ontario's provincial parks, without success. Even feeling tired and having a heavy head, I have fought to get my butt out of bed in time to meet the 7:00 booking time.

On Sunday, I was feeling particularly groggy, and really had to fight to get online. As soon as the 7:00 booking period ended, I shut down my computer and told DW that I was going back to bed.

I had some vivid but strange dreams. DW and I were out in the wilderness, surrounded by towering mountains, and knee-deep in snow. Although we had our snowshoes strapped to our feet, we were still sinking into the freshly fallen powder, struggling to move forward.

An elderly woman on a 1970s-era snowmobile came along, and DW and I waved our arms to flag her down. She passed by us but didn't slow or stop to lend us a hand. But the trail she left in her wake had packed down the snow, allowing us to walk more easily. Our only fear afterward was the risk of other snowmobile drivers following on the same trail and running us down, though this dream ended before that risk became any possibility.

I floated into another dream. I was hiding behind a partition, listening to a conversation between two familiar voices. I peered through a gap and spied one of my friends from my school years, Alan. What surprised me was that he looked exactly as he had looked in his undergrad university years, and I told myself that this wasn't right, that I was obviously in a dream.

Stu, in 1984.

The other voice in the conversation was also familiar to me, but I had to come out from around the partition to see my best friend, Stuart. Stu looked exactly as he looked in high school, and I told myself, in this dream, that it was natural for him to look this way because just the day before, I had been looking at old photos from high school, and our weekend at Mosport Park, and I had come across one photo of my friend dressed and looking the same way as he did in this dream.

As soon as I made this revelation, the dream shifted and I was back with DW, in the provincial park, setting up our camp site and getting ready to put our kayaks on the lake, to explore the waterway.

"I can't believe you snagged a spot," DW told me as I helped her take her kayak from the roof of our car.

"I thought I was dreaming when I got through online," I said.

"Are you sure you got the booking?" she asked, now unsure.

"You know? I'm not sure."

In real life, DW came to our bedside and told me that it was after 9:30 and it was time to get up. My head was heavy and I could have rolled over and fallen asleep again, but I fought to become fully conscious. I reached for my glasses and my smartphone, and I went to one of my e-mail accounts.

In my inbox, a confirmation message from Ontario Parks was awaiting me. I had, indeed, succeeded in claiming a spot, in August, in Killarney Provincial Park.

It's good to know that my body can still function properly, even though my brain isn't exactly in sync.