Technically-speaking, at any point one achieves REM — day or night — they’re just dreaming. A daydream, in comparison, is more akin to a reverie, and is experienced when the brain changes state just enough that it’s not in full beta (pardon the terrible geek humour) and has not yet reached all delta waves. It’s coasting. As a result, images are more vivid, though one remains aware of the fact they’re still fully conscious. The title is a play-on-words, considering I’d simply drifted off into REM during the latter daylight hours.

I remember the red trellis most of all. There wa nothing particularly lovely about it; not in colour, nor shape. It sort of waved in and out of the heavier bar that connected the railing to the balustrades. Iron, but not wrought. And very, very red. I was enjoying the place: a condominium near the Los Angeles beach cities, with a weird, uber-comfortable stadium-like theatre composed entirely of soft, squishy leather materials, a decent sized screen, and a little full-serve wet bar on either side. The man next to me, who was balding and in his later forties, was shaking his head, looking kinda grim. “What’s wrong?” I asked, patting the leather. He just needed to relax.

“You can’t honestly pretend like you like this place,” he said, matter-of-factly, not moving his hand from his chin; beady-eyes seemingly fixed upon some vague spot of the large screen. I don’t recall what it was showing, but I’m sure it was some popular film. The day was breathtaking; not too warm, or too cold. Blue sky and breezy. I felt like I was wandering in a coastal artist’s painting that was constructed out of sheer love of the scene itself, regardless of commission. (more…)