A Dream

The other night I had a dream. I know it happened early in the morning, probably around six. I had awakened for a second a bit earlier and then fell back into a sleep with this dream. I was running. I was running along Venice Boulevard. I was outrunning the buses. I was outrunning other runners, younger runners, more well-trained runners. It felt effortless, and I kept going faster and faster. I felt none of the jolting that I used to feel when my feet hit the ground. I wasn't sweating. I was running in some kind of long-distance run and I was winning easily. In this dream I was truly fleet-footed. Then I was suddenly at another location and I was picking up a phone. I was going to call Bill. People were saying---and a voice inside my head was saying---"Don't call him. Don't go back there. Don't do that to yourself again. You've come so far." Then I was running again. Just like in the earlier part of the dream. Running, running, running. When I woke up, my jaw ached. I had been grinding my teeth.