Power Pole 22

One year ago tonight I was sitting under power pole 22, somewhere east of Needles, CA, waiting for something I to this day still can't really describe. I remember singing songs out loud so as to ward off any predators, which turned out mostly to be mosquitoes. I remember huddling up with my dog Al, watching the sky, waiting for a brilliant display of lights which might look something like Van Gogh's "Starry Night." I remember wondering, "What in the hell am I doing here?" But, mostly, I remember thinking, "Some day this will all make sense." A year later, it still doesn't make much sense, but I can say with authority that the things I experienced out in the desert, the thoughts and feelings and gestures and glances and communications that I experienced, either as a sort of psychotic breakdown or as something magical, were things that were not of the world as I used to know it. Now, it sounds like I'm rambling, and I may be rambling because the emotions on this anniversary are all stirred up inside me and it's hard to make them too terribly coherent. Part of me wants to step outside in the cold night air with my dog and look up into the sky and see if the answer is still waiting up there for me to snatch it out of the air. The other part of me wants to bundle up in bed and be thankful that the wind isn't whipping up through my jacket making me freezing to the bone. Despite the discomfort of the evening last year, I did manage to get a few hours sleep. The most magical part of my crazy little journey actually takes place tomorrow, and I'll write more about that then, but for now I think I will just be thankful for sanity, flannel pajamas and dreams. My whole experience was a sort of dream. It's really hard to put a finger on it, and I'm starting to repeat myself here, so I think I'll end by saying good night, and thank you, whoever you are that made my little dream trip possible.