"You take on the dreams of the ones who slept there" -  T. Waits 

Somebody in Sedona would call this “astral traveling”. Indeed, if you read some New Age book this is exactly what they describe. You feel a vibration. Then you are lifted above your body. Then you travel. 

Being a bit more of a pysch wonk than your average wannabe post-hippie shaman, I would describe this as a “lost body experience”. That’s all I can say for sure. 

The brain has left the building. 

This happens to me a lot on the road… where sleep is strange. I am probably slipping into REM sleep where you are effectively paralyzed. That would explain the “lost” sensation. People can have these experiences outside of sleep. Fighter pilots would lose themselves flying at supersonic speeds. They call it G-LOC (Gravity induced loss of consciousness) These pilots would experience themselves outside of the plane watching themselves fly. 

The lucky ones reported that anyway. The ones that came back to fly their plane. Some didn’t. 

Although I see myself floating above my body and all that good stuff, I do not think that I am ever occupying a real space. It is a pretty good forgery of the real world but it always breaks down. There is always some little detail that is off…. a missing bag… a chair that is in the wrong place. But that doesn’t make this space any less strange. These are no ordinary dreams either. 

I take on the dreams of the ones who slept there. 

In my friend’s home in Idaho, I found a young Asian woman with me in the bed. She seemed friendly enough. My host informed me later that she had a young Korean host guest who stayed in that same room. In Colorado, I had a vision of an encounter with a white goddess. She had snake like tentacles with joints defined by black rings. I happened to be camping in an Aspen grove. I encountered what someone might call “faeries” in the emerald forests of Western Washington. The head honcho there drove a convertible Cadillac and told me the name of the creek I was near. Near Sedona I heard dozens of paranoid transmissions rising above a trashy campsite down FSR525. A psychologist would probably diagnose half that town as borderline schizophrenics. Was I picking up signals from all those crazy people or is there something crazy in those iron rich red rocks? 

Cheap hotels are the worst. I used to sporadically reward myself with a motel room while on tour. For someone like me, having an indoor space to myself with cable and indoor plumbing is pretty awesome. The only problem is I sleep like absolute shit. I think it is probably due to the sort of clientele that cheap hotels tend to have. A friend of mine used to work in a dirty Motel 6 in Salt Lake. He gave me daily reports on how much crack and meth he would find in the rooms. I can only imagine what that sort of traffic does a room’s vibe. 

Of course, there are places that are all my own. If I am having a terrible night’s sleep I sometimes find myself in a strange world of repeating patterns. It is something like being in a giant three dimensional kaleidoscope. I think that maybe I have become an unwelcome guest in my brain’s processes. I wake up still feeling scratchy waves of static in the back of my head. I wish I knew a research psychologist. I wonder if anyone else experiences this. 

I have my own space. There is a house. It is furnished in wood. I find there are always boxes packed and taped up. Sometimes I try to open the boxes. I don’t know if I am supposed to but I figure it is worth trying. Sometimes I try to see my reflection in the glass of a china cabinet. I really don’t know who I am or where this place is at. It is my own Black Lodge… though it is without a dancing midget or Laura Palmer. No one is ever there besides me. Is there some secret meaning or is it just a random mix of scattered memories? I don’t know. It probably doesn’t matter although I do secretly wish that I would find a map to Lincoln’s gold or something useful in one of those boxes. 

That would be nice.

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