Dream: On the Precipice

Trophy Wife and I are standing on a narrow strip of a horizontal glass-smooth marble-like surface. It is, at most, ten inches wide. On one side, there is a sheer vertical drop-off down to a distant beach below, so distant that the people on it throwing sticks for their dogs are like mere specks. On the other side there is the almost equally vertical surface of the mountain which goes even higher. We are in our bare feet. By leaning slightly against the mountain, it is possible to feel some degree of safety because our bare feet stick to the surface.

In the next scene, Trophy Wife and I are on the beach with our dog. We look up at the cliffs where we were. They do not at all appear to be so high as before, and they are not nearly as steep. They are set back somewhat like the cliffs at Shoreline Park close to Hendrys Beach.

In the next scene, we are back on the marble strip, in our bare feet, with our hands pressed against the side of the mountain. This time, T.W. insists on reading to me from an 18th Century text on German social-democracy. That is not her, and there is no reason she could think I would be interested in political-economic theory. I yell for her to stop. It is hard for me to break through to her. I want to tell her that our safety depends on our concentrating all our thinking, speaking, doing, on how to get off this narrow path. In the meantime, I am fighting nausea from being in this predicament.

And then the dream ends.