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A Dream
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A Dream
Sometimes dreams are so close to reality it's hard to tell the difference....
[1,005 words]
Lawrence Vaduva
Lawrence Vaduva, other titles
[February 2000]
A Dream
Lawrence Vaduva

I keep having dreams. Having dreams about dreams in which I read a book called fitzgrald. This is a reoccurring dream. A dream where I wake up from my dream within a dream scared for a little boy who is lost in a place made of sheets. Yes its true a palace made of sheets, but I image that this boy is myself in a book that I dream within a dream.

It’s hard to follow but it makes perfect sense to me. I could explain it to others but its true. So this boy that is written about in a book called the fitzgerald, is lost in a place made of sheets and i dream that I am this boy in my dream within the dream. The room he is trapped in is made of sheets. Four walls of dark sheet that he neither tries to escape or feel comfortable in. I am explaining this to a person when I wake up from my dream within the dream. A person that doesn’t exist and I am not really sure if there is any one there or if I am just talking to myself. And because of the complexity of this I also feel like I am the boy dreaming about myself trying to convince myself not to be scare. This is a reoccurring thing. A reoccurring dream within the dream but it feels like now when I am awake that it is a reoccurring dream in real life too. This dream within the dream. I don’t know if the book really exists, but it feels like it does. So in my dream, I still dream about the other dream and this is where I am telling that imaginary person about the lost boy and the book I must find to see if he gets out…and its become obsessive in nature to find the book to see if the kid gets out. Next thing I know is that I am driving along a freeway or it is more like a highway within a town. A large town a california type of road where cars are driving fast and the world whizzes by, when all of a sudden I see a woman walking hastily along side my car as I am driving. I feel like she needs help and I a still thinking about the book…. but none the less I pull over in the drive way of a state penentatntary, where the is a large man hanging up sheets on the font dusty property of a barb wired enclosed state pen.

Well I get out of my car and start walking back to see if the woman needs help. As I am walking I realize that this is north california I am in and I never wonder how I got there I am just happy I am there. So as I am walking I see a lot of little stands here and there on the side of the same highway which now has become a regular four-lane road. I stop in a stand and there is a guy asking me if I want a picture for five bucks, he has a camera stand. So I say sure why not. After he takes a picture I start taking to him and I come to find out that he doesn’t really like what he is doing to make a living but was forced to because….and then he stopped and looked embarrassed. I then he started up aging telling me that he love to design things he has always considered himself a designer. I asked him in he can draw on CAD or CATIA and he said no. He said that he would love to work as a designer but life turned around for him on one particular night and he missed his chance. I felt compelled to offer him two thousand dollars to go to training and become a designer because everyone deserves a second chance. Then he said that he forced himself on a mentally handicapped girl back when theory were teens and everything changed for him. I felt sorry for him realizing he’ll always be taking pictures for five dollars a shot. And I moved on to the next stand where American fellow was selling grapes. I asked what kind and he smiled, but I bought some anyway. They were delicious grapes, and the girl walked by. Now she had a girlfriend and she wasn’t in trouble they were just walking along enjoying the day. Then i started walking back to my car but as usual the way is longer walking back. I passed by a three level motel where a lot of colored girls were hanging out the windows talking and laughing, goggling at the passer bys in the street. Now I woke up from my dream within the dream, in a be with four individuals. We all had our close on nothing sexual involved. I stretched and said i had a wonderful dream. Somebody asked what was her name and I replied “north california’, everybody smiled and sighed. And while this was happening I was reminiscing about the dream I had just had. And then i woke up to the real world as they say and I am reminiscing about my initial dream that contained a confusing logical order of sequences. But what’s funny is that I still can’t tell if the fitzgerald really was only a dream I had had in the past and redreamt it again or if the book really exists in the world…and I absolutely can’t get a handle on the concept if I was really that boy in the dream or not. Its hard to tell reality from dreams, it always has been for me but this one really makes me question what is real. And how do you know it if reality changes every time?

You tend to look at something one way all the time and one day unexpected it changes on you, where is the reality in that?



"I think that this essay was a pretty good essay, it was confusing at times with all the talk of the different dreams. It also had an abundance of grammatical errors. The point that it is trying to make was very vaild." -- Courtney Louvar, Normal, IL, USA.


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© 2000 Lawrence Vaduva
February 2000

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