Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These And Who Am I To Disagree?

*** continued from previous post ***


Luckily, nature intervened on my behalf so unpleasantness was avoided. Mom woke me again, only this time with a "David! David! Get the camera and come here!"

I cracked open one eye, dreams still flitting across my synapses light as butterflies, and I couldn't figure out why Mom wanted a picture of me running down a hallway being chased by a grizzly in a pink tutu while an elk played goalie at the other end. Then, the world swam into solidity and I saw that she was standing by the glass door to the balcony, towel wrapped around her head, pointing excitedly at something down below.

"Grrrrk", I said, quite plainly. My vocal dexterity of moments before gone. Stupid tongue paralysis. I opened my mouth and tried again. "Whatizit?"

“Just get the camera and come here!"

I bounced out of bed and promptly smacked my knee on a log. Really, who the hell builds a bed out of logs anyway? Poor lumberjacks? Beavers forced into labor camps? Carpenters with a raw timber fetish? I managed to teeter over and grabbed the camera off of the end table closest to the bed, then hobble-gimped over to where your mom was fairly bouncing by the window.

"Look!"

Remember that we hadn't seen the view from 'Moose Snot' in the daylight, so you can excuse my sleep-addled brain as it struggled to interpret what I saw.

A postcard. That's the only way to describe the scene spread out before me . . . a flippin' postcard. In the daylight we saw that our room sat perched on a small bank 25 feet, (or 7.93 NLM - that's nano-liter-meters to you plebeians), above the valley floor, and overlooked that same gorgeous meadow that we had traveled by in the twilight. Iridescent green grasses, lush bush, and a small stream that looked close enough to touch lay before us. The meadow widened close to the Lodge, playing over hollows and slight slopes for a half a mile. (Oh I said mile, yes I did. So SNAPS!) Then the green blanket gave way to a gentle hill and the grasses transitioned to scattered trees. After a short distance the trees gave way to the dense forest of the foothills, that then climbed rapidly into some of the most stunning mountains I've ever had the privilege to view.

*** the journey continues ***

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

For at least 17 years (At least how long I've been married), I've had problems sleeping. Not problems falling asleep, or going back to sleep, but problems staying asleep once sleeping. Several years ago, my wife and I saw a show on the television regarding sleep apnea. She said not only do you snore like a son of a bitch, but I think you have this too. Sleep apnea is where you involuntarily stop breathing after you've fallen to sleep. When you brain realizes it is starving for oxygen, reflex actions take over. You brain jolts your body awake, and you gasp for air. Usually this takes place without the sufferer even knowing it. This, like I said went on for me for over 17 years, likely much longer. The problem is, that your body cannot reach R.E.M. sleep if this is occurring too often. You need REM sleep to get full bodily recovery from the day. Without it, 8 hours of sleep feels more like about 4. I did a sleep study, and they said 39 times in one hour, I had completely stopped breathing. They rated me at moderate to severe. Anyway, they got me this weird C.P.A.P. machine to wear while sleeping. It pumps constant air pressure into my airway. This not only illuminates my snoring, but my sleep apnea as well. It took some time getting used to but now I am sleeping better than I can ever remember. When I wake up, I feel refreshed. I never knew I wasn't supposed to go around feeling stoned my whole life. That is literally the closest thing I can think of to describe what it feels like to be deprived of deep sleep for this many years.

So you've got to be wonderin where I'm goin with all this huh?

Dream... I never used to.... not since I was a child. No one ever believed me either when discussing dreams, and I'd say "I don't dream." They'd say, "Yes you do, everyone dreams. You just don't remember them." My sleep doctor stated that "It is indeed likely that I rarely, to never dreamt at all for the last 17 or so years due to not reaching R.E.M. sleep." You need to hit R.E.M. to dream. This is where your body does all of the deep recovery therapy, and your mind just lets go.

I now dream. I have fanciful dreams. I dream of flying, like I did as a child. Not flying an airplane, or a hang glider, me actually flying. I guess this is why I love riding motorcycles so much. It's the closest thing I've found in my life to this euphoric feeling of flying where you are the one in complete control.

I love dreaming. I love riding. Dream on, Ride on!