Dreams of a Vivacious City

I step up.

I open the terrarium, the rough lattice abrading my skin.  I then reach in, feel over the warm, soft sand that is the bed for my lizard.  I see him in a corner.  He is scratching frantically at the sides of the glass; he has caused gouges in the glass over many long years.  I lift him up, the warm, smooth yet scarred glass sliding across my fingertips.
And then I close the terrarium and I hold him.  I run my fingers across his body; smooth scales in one direction, rough in the other direction.  And then I feel his tail; spines abound, the valleys and ridges caressing my fingers.

But then he shudders, hitting me with that tail, drawing blood.  It stings.  But I don’t mind; wounds heal.

I close my eyes, keeping him close.

Everything shifts from my room to a space of white.  I stroke over him again, thinking of another place.  Colors suffuse the area; I’m there, at an urban beach.  I sit, still keeping my lizard close.  People mill about me, shouldering me aside.

I open my eyes; there are colors, yes, but the colors are bland.  Muddy brown, slate gray, bleached sand… I shiver.  Placing my lizard on my shoulder, I begin to walk.  The brittle sand crunches beneath my bare feet, and I recoil at the amount of sticky tar my bare feet come into contact with.  The hot, muggy wind rustles through my hair.
This is a smog-filled city.  I can almost touch the pollution, the taint hanging in the air.  I walk towards a highway, running my hands over a rough, granulated wall.  The wall turns into a fence; the thick iron bars brush across my fingers.  They are pitted and corroded.

My reverie is interrupted when I hear someone call out to me.  “What’cha got there, bud?”
I turn to see a shirtless, athletic, smiling young man.  “You got a lizard on your shoulder.  Neat!  Hey, uh, do you mind if I touch it?  Is it a guy or a girl?”

“A guy,” I reply.  I take him off my shoulder and offer him to the man.  “Don’t hold him; he’ll run away if you do.”  The scales of my lizard’s belly are warm and smooth.  The man strokes my lizard’s back.  “Hey, you know, it’s not all that rough.  It’s kinda soft.  Anyway, man, what’s your name?”  He holds out his hand for a handshake as I put my lizard back on my shoulder.

“Brenden,” I reply as I shake his hand, noting that his hands are rough and calloused.  This, I think to myself, is a man who’s used to working hard.  “John,” he says.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

My vision flickers; the dream is about to end.  “John,” I say.  “This is a meditative dream, you know?”  He smiles.  “Oh, I know.  All of this…” he gestures around, “You created it.  And I say you did a damn fine job.  Now go on, wake up, lazy.”  He claps me on the back.

I struggle not to awaken.  “But who exactly are you?  You have a life of your own.”
His smile turns into a broad grin.  “What, you don’t know?  I’m you.  I’m your conscience.  Wake up, already!”

With the word “already”, I jolt awake.  I put my lizard back into his terrarium and consider the dream I had, closing the lid on the terrarium.  I then note that it’s nighttime; about time to head off to bed.  I walk into the bathroom, stripping myself of clothes and walking into the shower.  The metal adjusting bar is smooth and cold, but soon turns hot as the water gushes over it.  I let it hit my body; the warm water is soothing.  I scrub myself thoroughly; the sweet-smelling soap suds cling to me stubbornly as I attempt to wash them off.  Eventually, they wash off.  I then turn to my shampoo and take a gooey glob of it in my hands, rubbing it into my hair.  My hair becomes full of soft cream, accompanied also by a sweet smell.  I let the shampoo sit for a little while and then I rinse my hair out, the warm water gently tickling my hair.  I turn the shower off and dry myself, the soft tarry cloth of the towel rubbing smoothly over my skin.  When I’m completely dry, I shake myself into my pajamas.  Much like my lizard’s belly, they’re warm and soft across my body.  I get into my bed, bringing my blankets close and turning out the light.

It takes me a little while to get to sleep, but when I do, I find myself in that city again, in the exact same spot.  John is waiting for me.  “Brenden!  What’s up?”  He shakes my hand.  “No lizard this time, huh?”

I smile and shake my head.  “No, sorry.  But… could you answer something for me?”
“I’ll try.”

“When I normally dream, the dreams aren’t this vivid.  And there must be some coincidence as to why this dream is the same as the one from my meditation.  So what’s going on?”
John shrugs.  “That’s a question that you’ll have to find an answer for yourself.  In the meantime, you wanna get something to eat, or drink?  Because I know of this great café a few blocks away.”

I grin.  “You mean that I know of it.”

He laughs.  “You’re getting it!  C’mon, let’s go.”  He puts a casual shirt on and laces up his boots.

I look at my own clothes to see that they’re similar to his, and they’re kind of uncomfortable.  The fabric and my skin do not agree with each other; this is more like a relationship between the reverse direction of my lizard’s scales and my tender fingers.  “John, how in the world do you wear these things?”  He shrugs, walking down a main boulevard.  “You get used to them.  Anyway, try to make the most of this experience; use your senses to take everything in.”

I raise an eyebrow.  “Everything, you say?”

“Everything,” he replies, turning into a side street.  “You know you can do it; try it now.”

I look around; the muddy colors are still there, although they’re a hint brighter, more lively, and more healthy.  The air smells cleaner and the smog isn’t quite as palpable, and while I can hear cars honking their horns and various people talking, the sound isn’t all that grating.  I feel slightly better in this environment than I did when I was meditating.

I hurry up to John and explain it to him, and he nods, continuing to walk.  “That’s because, during meditation, you strive to purify yourself of any worries temporarily.  The dirty city symbolized your thoughts at the time.  Now that you’re properly sleeping and you’ve already meditated, this city has become a much better place to be.  Anyway, we’re here,” he says as he stops outside a lively-looking, yet small, café.  He walks inside and grabs a table for two.  We sit down.  The wood of the table is smooth and of high quality; its polished surface is almost reflective.  A smiling waitress comes to take our order.  John places his – coffee and cream puffs.  My order is slightly more complex – a latte and a napoleon.  The waitress nods and leaves to go assemble our orders.
I’m very confused at this point.  “But… why?  Why this city?”

John answers.  “The city represents your brain, and everything within it represents your thoughts.  Lately, you’ve been feeling stressed.  You didn’t notice, but the garbage on the beach is now gone, and the water is clear.  The city itself is cleaner, and everything within is far less… shall we say, grating on the senses.  When you dream, you relax.  When you relax, everything becomes clear.  That can be said about a lot of people.  You like to write; write about this dream.  Write about what relaxes you.  Ah, here’s our order.”  The waitress puts our plates down and walks away.
“John…” I say as I feel the smooth contours of my cup, pausing to take a sip.  “I should write about all this?”

He nods.  “So you can remember it later.”  He takes a bite out of one of his cream puffs.  I start to laugh.  “Hey, who’s gonna pay for this meal we’re having?”
He smiles yet again.  “This is your dream; you decide who gets to pay for it.  Technically, I’m you.  So really, you’d pay for it either way.  I’ll pay, though.”
I nodded and took a bite out of my napoleon.  It is crunchy, yet soft, and the cream inside is so palatable and sweet that I close my eyes in bliss.  “Enjoying yourself there, Brenden?” John says.  I open my eyes to see that he’s taken another bite of his cream puff, finishing it.  I mimic his motions with my napoleon and latte, and after a few minutes, they’re both gone.  John motions the waitress over and fishes around his pocket for money, but I take out my own wallet.  The crinkled leather of the wallet passes through my fingers and the papery-thin dollar bills follow suit.  “Keep the change,” I say as John and I get up.  The waitress smiles and walks away after taking the money.

John and I walk out and he leads us back towards the beach.  I marvel at the clarity of my dream; everything is now bright and colorful, like a normal city would be.  I feel the window of a clothing store; it seemed to be made out of very fine glass, unlike my lizard’s terrarium.  I felt the concrete of the sidewalk; it feels new, only a few days old.  When I asked John about it, he nodded without looking forward.  “This is your new resolve – you have new ideas in your head and now you want to act on them.  But we have to hurry up and get to the beach – your dream is about to end.”  He starts to walk at a brisk pace, and I hasten myself as well.  Eventually, we reach the spot where we first met and he sits down on the low wall in the same position that he took when I first saw him.  “Well, Brenden… now you know.”

“Somewhat.  I can come here whenever I like, right?”

John nods.  “This city can be anything.  Hell, it can even be a tropical island or an alpine mountain.  The trick is to explore everywhere, every recess of your mind.  You won’t ever unlock your mind’s true potential, but you’ll gain a better understanding of yourself.  Anyway, it’s time to wake up.  See you!” With that, I began to hear a beeping sound.

“Wait, John, what’s that sound—”

And then I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock.  I smile.  “Now I know,” I whisper to myself, getting up, the soft blankets passing over my legs.  “The mind is truly limitless.”