Digg ThisOK, I already know that you are going to think me weird for this entry. I learned something about myself last night, in my sleep, in the weirdest way. A apologize for the length of this post, as the detail is amazing.
To preface this, I must tell you that I remember painfully few dreams. I don’t know why this is so, but it is, so there it is. For me to actually remember this dream with the clarity that I have is remarkable.
What’s even more remarkable is that this is a recurring dream, albeit with several, perhaps dozens or even hundreds of variations. This is an old dream; I’ve had it for at least the last 10 years, probably more. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but it’s almost as regular as a clock.
I’m a rooftop runner. I run rooftops in my dreams. I do it for recreation, although I’m sure there are thousands of others that run rooftops for various, nefarious reasons; I’m one of the good guys, however, as I never commit a crime when I run.
I run rooftops for relaxation, although now that I’m aware of this somnolent pastime I am amazed that I get no relaxation from this activity at all; it is something I do in my sleep and from which I derive enjoyment.
The running course is always across the street, and I always run on the west side of the street, toward the lake, which is about a mile away or so. The street, laden with huge trees and lush green lawns, is lined with interconnected houses, some of which are two-story, and some three- or four-story homes.
Gaps between the houses are nonexistent; there is always some sort of superstructure there to bridge the gap, be it a garage, a gazebo, or a slippery rock ledge along a cliff. The spans are also very short, never more than about 10 or 15 feet; the path I run is torturous and twisted, with steep inclines and fast drops, frequently off one roof and onto another house’s porch.
Each episode requires a fair amount of stealth, as rooftop running is highly illegal, even though many people do it. One must avoid the residents at all costs, as to encounter one, or be caught, would mean certain jail time.
For some reason, I’m fast. I’m a skilled runner, able to hide or dart from one level to another, avoiding residents with ease, almost as if I had some type of extrasensory perception of their presence. I run with grace, usually in silence, and although I have fallen a few times, I have rarely been seriously hurt.
I have seen some pretty bad things while running, too. I’ve seen fires, murders, rapes, burglars and illicit meetings between crime figures (I had a group of mobsters chase me once. They were no match for my skill and cunning). People do far worse things than run rooftops.
Meanwhile, I run. Down to the lake and back. Dusk or early evening, although I have run in the wee hours of the morning just for kicks.
The scariest thing about running rooftops is that every once in a while, I come off a house and onto a narrow, winding ledge with a sharp drop onto a porch on the third or fourth floor. The porches are usually stone with brick walls, and are never square; most have bay windows or even reverse bay windows, and the front wall to my right generally weaves through trees and brush.
On this type of approach, you have to be careful of people, especially if the porch is lit, as it is really easy to get caught as you zip around the corner too fast. One step too far and it’s curtains.
I’ve never been caught. Never once.
Until last night, that is. And I was caught by a small group of 3- or 4-year-olds, their mothers following them onto the porch. I couldn’t sense them.
I stopped cold. I told them I ran rooftops. They understood. I told them it was only in fun, for relaxation. They understood. I asked them if I could leave the home in the “normal” way. They politely escorted me out, down the stairs.
As I stepped through the doorway, I woke up to a dark bedroom, my wife snoring almost inaudibly next to me, her feet touching mine.
~~~
I can only think that Freud would have a field day with this one, although this dream is far from sexual. In fact, sex has never entered this dream once; it’s not the main concern of the dream.
Even though, as I said, I have seen crimes while running, I have never been involved with them as that is not my way. I have never reported a crime while running rooftops, either, because to do so would reveal my own crime. So I guess that I have something to hide, after all, even though it doesn’t seem like much of a crime to me at all.
The weird part is that people know I run rooftops, and they do little to stop me if anything at all.
I have no concept of what else this dream could mean; it could have thousands of interpretations, and I am not about to spend thousands of dead presidents to find out, either.
Suffice it to say that after at least a decade of having this dream, I am finally aware of it. I’ll figure it out, sooner or later.
