Read Walking the Sleep for Free Online Page B

know in seconds that you’re dealing with dreams. I don’t always know.
    I have actually seen some horrible things that really happened. In walking the sleep, I can see, and enter another’s memories sometimes. This can be terrifying. It isn’t a movie, a book, a repeated story – this is raw shit from their subconscious that happened, not a movie they remembered. Shit like that doesn’t come over here because it’s childish to real horror, anguish, fear, despair, and terror. Same with the good stuff I suppose, but I just don’t run into lots wanderers full of good thoughts and happy memories of life. People are here for a reason I guess, and like me, it isn’t to walk around and have happy thoughts to share. I figure most of those people, with happy memories and good thoughts are reuniting with people, for real, in a better place. Not here. Not hell. Not limbo. Not heaven. Not. HERE.
    So, often I see things in real time happening as I walk, and listen, and sometimes make sense of REALITY. And my memory of dreams is so much clearer than you can ever understand. Think of it like this. We are watching a movie and you are drifting in and out of sleep for those two hours. You finally fall asleep. When you wake, you have a recollection of some of the movie. I watch the movie and then, when it is over, I sleep.
    When I awake, I can clearly recall the movie in detail, while, for you, the plot, characters, and outcome are very sketchy. That is the way it is becoming for me.
    On your side dreams don’t always make sense. Here I walk the sleep and try to make sense of what is reality, not thought and subconscious busywork.
    There are other things that have been changing for me. I realize that it is easier to talk to people here than I had thought before. I think I really began to realize this when I finally spent some time talking to Sam at the liquor store in Santa Ana.

Chapter 6
     
     
    Now, more than ever, I want to talk to that woman on the pier. I have seen her in my dreams several times now. So, I am not above spending some days at the San Clemente pier hoping to see her again. To see if she will smirk at me again. To see if she will notice, in my eyes, that I am more aware now. To try and find out how or when I knew her, because I have this feeling that I did. That I do. Here is more private than you might imagine. Like I told you before, maybe more than once, I forget, I slip in my memory of what I say, but I do have a distinct awareness of who is here. But I realize now, that seeing anyone and everyone that you might want to isn’t as easy as all that. I thought, because I could sense them, and knew absolutely that they were here, that I could easily see them anytime I wanted to. Not true. Was that smirk from the beautiful woman because she knew I couldn’t really communicate? Like when you’re new to something, and struggling so hard to learn it, and a seasoned person, a master of the skill is watching? They aren’t mocking you really… a slight smirk isn’t exactly mean either. Just a knowing.
    When I was young, I recall watching a man in his thirties trying to learn to surf. I must have been sixteen, my hair bleached light brown and blond from months of sun and sea water. My skin was tanned a dark brown, my shoulders muscled and rounded from countless hours of paddling into waves. The man was doing everything wrong. He looked like a wounded duck in the water. He thrashed at the water in uneven strokes, he kept his chest flat on the board and struggled to remain on the poorly waxed board. Every wave seemed to be the end of him as he was slammed into the surf, breaker after breaker.
     
    Set after set of waves knocked him into the cold Pacific and he was poorly equipped. Even in the middle of summer, when it’s warm out, cold currents can come into the southern California coast. A spring wet suit on those days keeps the chill off the bones. He was wearing board shorts only and I could see he was cold,