Dream Asylum

I don't pretend to understand them.


The main character in the miniseries, a late-teenage boy in casual american clothes, gets wounded in a gunfight in the alternate dimension. There are two perfectly round, symmetrical holes right through his legs, each one just below the pelvis, from the front of the thigh to the back. It appears that his leg bones are completely severed, yet he can move freely. The wounds do not bleed at all.

The Wise Man counsels him before he continues his journey: "Do not cover these wounds, or they will fester, and you will surely die. They cannot heal until you return to your own dimension, but when you do, they will bleed. You will need medical attention quickly."

Our special-ops team drives a school bus. It is parked at the foot of the hill leading up to my old Scotts Valley house, at night. We have just finished a particularly grueling operation. A couple of the men are standing around with their hands in their pockets. The rest of us are resting with our backs on the flaked wooden wall of a barn-like structure. Jamie Lee Curtis, dressed in black shorts a-la Tomb Raider, is the team female. As the only woman in the group, she has taken on a modified mate role for the rest of us. In this dynamic, it is perfectly normal for any of us to cuddle with her.

Lying next to her, I reach out and stroke her bare leg with my hand. She's wearing combat boots and thick hiking socks. I register in an offhand way that her leg is Carolyn's leg. As I dream, I wonder if this is so because I have touched Carolyn's leg so many times in reality.