"Hypnopomp" is a cool sounding word and something I'd like to incorporate into my daily vernacular, as in, "I had quite the hypnopomp this morning!"
To be honest, I do experience the hypnopompic state rather often (more often than hypnagogia, though the context I am using implies they are opposite and apparently, they are not -- it has to do with brain activity.. ANYWAY). The most frustrating thing about these experiences is grasping something in a dream -- a key, a chain, the hand of my soul mate -- waking, feeling so fervently the thing IN MY HAND only to watch it dissipate and vanish before my very eyes.
Why?! WHY!!! God DAMN YOU! Why must you play these games with me, you stupid, broken brain of mine!
Back in November of 2013, I was living up north (SLC area) and I had to drive down to Cedar for a funeral. The deceased is insignificant to my story but very significant to my life. I could not miss this funeral, despite the huge storm I would have to drive through.
The trip started out okay enough, but as I headed south, the skies grew more ominous and dark. It was near Beaver where the blizzard hit me the hardest, blacking out the sky as if it were the middle of the night. The roads were icy (my car was icy!) and treacherous, but I continued on. I remember hitting the summit and coming up the 'ol raspberries dimly lit though right in front of me. An officer was pulled off to the side as far as he could go and was motioning with his mag light to slow down, proceed with caution. A little while further up the road, there was the cause of the commotion: a state transport van standing on its nose, straight up in the air. It was as if someone had simply placed it there. The blizzard carried on, unaware of or apathetic to the horrific moment. The moment slowed as I passed by, my gaze fixated on the wreckage. Clumps of snow fell elegantly and softly downward as another officer, flashlight in hand, peered into the black, empty windows, in a scene that would terrify anyone who happened upon it.
The interior of my car was warm, but I still felt cold.
I looked up to the night sky, blanketed by thick cloud coverage, and asked myself... What more could this trip bring me?
There was a faint glimmer on the horizon and I wondered what fantastic beast of machinery could possibly be producing that level of light (out here). As I continued onward, the glimmer grew like a wildfire with my forward motion, there, on the horizon. It was around Parowan when I came around the bend that I realized what I was looking at: daylight.
Confused and bewildered, I look at the clock on my dash. It was barely past 4 pm. It. Was. STILL daytime!
The sky was clear, minus a few clouds here and there, by the time I reached my destination. It had rained in town, leaving Cedar smelling fresh and looking beautiful. A couple other mourners at the funeral complained about having to drive up from Vegas and the rain over Blackridge they hit on the way. "Mofos," I calmly stated, "I drove through the dark in the middle of the day AND in the middle of that dark, I drove through a nightmare!"
Next time maybe we could talk about dogs.
