Ghosts

988 miles to go, YEEEEHAAAAA!

Just a warning, you’re going to have to endure more of my rambling. You must realize my logs are not only for your benefit, but are my personal diary.

I took down the drifter at around ten last night. A fat rain cloud appeared, dropped three drops of rain and produced 13kts of wind for a 4 minute period. I should have left the drifter up, but I wasn’t going to fly it again once it was down. I had been sleeping outside to be closer to the environment as I wanted to wake quickly with any weather change. After poling the jib, I went below, checked the radar, and quickly fell asleep again.

I woke at 5 this morning (pacific time) to an odd “THUD”.

I smelled cigarettes and herd voices in the distance. What was the sound that woke me I thought? I didn’t think it odd hearing voices or smelling cigarette smoke as it is quite common for people to pass close in a dingy when one is at anchor. The sea was very calm and it did indeed feel like I was at anchor. Another 15 seconds passed and I realized where I was. I quickly bounced up for a look around. Nothing but a half moon high above, and a sky full of stars. My radar was clear and I hopped back into bed.

I wasn’t really tired anymore so I decided to remember once again. Actually let me back up a few days and tell you how this whole memory thing started.

I was reading “Hannibal Rising” which I really enjoyed by the way. It is about how Hannibal Lecter became to be and told the story of his childhood on the eastern front during WW2. Hannibal was a gifted and intelligent child, and had a wonderful private teacher as a boy. One day his teacher asked if he wanted to remember everything, “of course” young Hannibal replied. “Well if that’s the case you must construct a memory palace”. He went on to explain how a memory palace was a place in your mind where you stored memories like in a library. If you wanted to remember something you walked into the appropriate room like “mathematics” and filed the memory in the proper place. This way it was easy to visually find the memory you want and access it at a later time.

I found this fascinating concept and have been constructing my memory castle (mine is a castle) ever since.

Every time I visit my memory castle I enter by horse-drawn carriage. I have a remote in my pocket that lowers the bridge so we can pass over the mote, and only I have this remote. It’s usually a dramatic dark and stormy night, however I have passed in the day and the surrounding forest is quite beautiful. I’m always kind to my driver “Take the week off I’ll be here a while” who I suspect is an old friend, however I haven’t seen his face yet. When I push open the 15 foot doors I smile at the gargoyle to my left and thank him for keeping my hose safe. When I enter the foyer it’s kind of a mess. Skate boards and yoyo’s litter the floor amongst a backdrop of suits of armor and video games. I always change into my house shoes which are a pair of black Converse all star high-tops. If you have ever been to the New York City public library you will have an idea of what my foyer looks like.  Stairs lead up to halls which are marked “people, places, things” amongst endless halls which I will label as I need them. Every time I visit I try to clean up by grabbing something off of my messy floor and filing it.

This morning it was a yoyo that sparked as you used it. “Where do I put this I thought”? I strolled down the “places” hallways until I found a room for my grandmother’s house in New Jersey. My mother and I lived there for a brief period after her divorce from my father, I was about 5. I loved that YoYo and often slept with it. During this time I had a lot of nightmares and was afraid to sleep, probably having to do with my parents divorce. I tried my hardest to stay awake every night, but it never worked, they always came to get me and I would wake up screaming and crying.

My uncle Sasha (Alex) is a really cool guy. He was a total hippie and was, and still is one of my favorite people. If you’re looking for something out of the ordinary, or an old comic book you should check out his site, I think it is www.neetstuff.com.

Anyway, it was my uncle who taught me I could control my dreams. “You can always just pinch yourself if you think you’re dreaming and you’ll wake up, but the fun part is, knowing you’re dreaming”. If he told me this today I’d ask if he was tripping, but at the time I took his advice, and believe it or not, it worked.

I was being chased down a street one night and realized I was dreaming. I turned around and faced the dark figure that was chasing me. It was this moment in my life that my brass balls dropped, and I’ve had them ever since, I stood firm!

The dark figure quickly scurried down an unlit alley way, I pinched myself, and I was awake.

I owe more to my uncle then I ever thought. I haven’t talked to him in a while but will try and contact him as soon as I have access to a phone.

I guess the moral of the story is “take time for yourself”! We concern ourselves with so many un-important things we forget ourselves and who we are, and why we are. Try to build a memory place when you have time, perhaps before sleeping. It beats thinking of work the next day, and I think it is a healthy mental exercise.

I’m not concerned with the wind speed any more. This is a very important time in my life and I believe Namaste and the sea have conspired, and are getting me to my destination at precisely the proper pace. 

Oh…, when I went to make coffee I found out what the “THUD” was. My stove wore through the aluminum material where it gimbals and dropped a few inches on one side. Cooking will be a little harder from now on. Once I’m at anchor I can fix it by drilling new gimbal holes.

Peace, Love, and Memories.

Alex