The meeting was actually quite easy to find, but was far and away not my dream meeting.
We camped in a trailer park filled with colorful residents who all (I mean all of em) possessed a colorful array of Styrofoam trucker caps whose smiling faces sported impressive beards and during the first night someone stole all of my ensure plus. They sure knew how to make a bonfire; in the dampness I was very jealous of their pendeltons.
I attempted conversation with my fellow meetups but too often they were buried in their phones, sleeping or polishing their cycles and I participated in the rides in a very disillusioned state feeling I was shunned for some breach of conduct or knowledge.
I was assured the rides were no-drop, but that turned out to not be the case unless we were being herded into impromptu photo shoots. We got lost and ran out of food as a part of the adventure (!), and then I realized I forgot my space blanket and froze amid piles of shiny snoring cyclists crinkling and muttering in the brush. I wish I had reviewed the itinerary more closely.
I left the trailer park far behind the next day and rather than take the train home I elected to ride. The roads were wide and free and the people I met were on journeys of their own searching for wisdom and bliss, and that is where I truly found the beginnings of my…
why my dream, and that’s just what I want to explain. This world of mine doesn’t give me the slightest impression of reality – it’s false. It’s false in this sense: Side by side with it another world exists and that other world is the true one and this one is all false and deceitful to the very core. And so it occurs to me that reality and falseness are two words for the same thing.
And that was where the real journey began, in my dreams there on the roadside. The true dreams of my
dreamquest of the unknown meeting.