Tiny Grasshopper
8:14 p.m.
I drove to Costco today, thankful for my all-wheel drive as the roads were no doubt icy, and marveled at the white landscape. The river was steaming as I crossed it, and I could practically see the ice forming on its surface.
Coming out of Costco, I was suddenly struck with the thought that I had not dreamed for quite a while of something that used to recur quite frequently. Just as my dreams of flying when I was young were so convincing that I was sure in my waking hours that they had truly happened, so were these. I would be trying to move quickly, either because I was being pursued or for some other reason, and my legs simply wouldn’t work fast enough or properly. It was as if they were paralyzed or couldn’t bear my weight, and ended up being useless. So I used my arms as a means of propelling myself forward, either clawing my way or using my elbows and forearms. When the dreams were happening, they seemed very real.
I have no idea what brought them on. I’m trying to remember if there was a sense of panic involved, a need to get moving at any cost, and why my legs didn’t work. When I was coming out of the store where the guy with the pen checked off my receipt, I had been pushing the buggy with my forearms, my hands being occupied with car keys, receipt and a roll of stamps, and this may have been what prompted that thought. Just as strangely, I don’t know why the dreams stopped. Maybe this is a sign that they’ll start again.
Buddy Boy will accompany me as far as Montreal tomorrow, then we go off in different directions, he to Ottawa, I to Toronto. It’ll be nice to have company for at least a portion of the trip, although my 1:30 bus won’t arrive at Bay Street until after 8 p.m. It’s a good thing I’m short (one of my friends has given me the title “Tiny Grasshopper”). I can curl up on a double seat and sleep.
So, unless I pay the public library or an internet café a visit, this is goodbye until I return Tuesday night. Have a good weekend.
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