A Living Magazine - Day 146 - A Visit from Dean and the Hungry Coyotes

It was a bright morning in Room 404 of the Marriott Courtyard Hotel. I felt a lot better. Since, it was 7:00 am, I had plenty of time before check out (at 12:00 pm). So, I took a shower, put on my clean clothes and headed down to the restaurant/bar and got my complimentary Starbucks coffee for being a - Platinum Member - HA!

Returning to my room, I did a little more work online, creating a new IWALLK Facebook Group page, called "Journeys", in addition to the secret group that had been around since Livermore, California, and posted a question there and at my profile page about whether I should switch routes and go next to Alabama instead of Mississippi. I pretty-much already knew I was going to do it. But I wanted to have confirmation that my friends agreed that it was a better, and also inform them of the change. The question did both.

When 11:45 am arrived, I gathered up my stuff and headed down to the lobby to check out. Handing in my key card, I walked out onto Church Street. I'd planned to go to Starbucks, but passed by it, being curious about whether there were any photo worthy scenes around the area, before I got to work on the day's post... 

Very healthy violets in the AT&T Plaza.

This is the market I went to the night before for sandwich making items and laundry detergent.

Great prices and variety for an inner city market.

I saw the Tennessee State Capitol Building, and figured it would be worth a couple shots...

As state capitol building go, this one is very modest.

There are concentric pathways around the building, with a few monuments. When I came around one curve, a hawk flew up and into a nearby tree...

I liked the small monument to the musical styles of Nashville...

I took the this street back to the center of town...

When I'd made the circuit and returned to the AT&T Plaza housing Starbucks, I watched the large cranes constructing the foundation of a new highrise...

Working outside for a while, I had to take a picture of this...

People were trying to throw things away.

Ahhhh... My room's window was seen on the fourth floor, third from the left.

I worked a long time on the day's post; longer than it may seem by observing its length. But I wanted to express my troubled mind after having had the TV in the room on all day. Having finally finished the post, there was solid darkness outside and it was time to head to my sleeping spot. The lights of Nashville across the river, as seen from the riverside are quite striking...

I was looking forward to setting up the tent and just relaxing. I had downloaded the latest C-Realm Podcast, Transducing Consciousness. By the time I was settled in, the temperature had dropped significantly and my sleeping bag felt extra cozy. The podcast was a fantastic, very unique, state of the art philosophy. I would urge people to check it out. KMO is a great interviewer.

I heard the end of the podcast, but don't remember falling asleep, as iTunes started playing down through the other playlist...

* * * * * * *

I do know that was dreaming about an old friend from high school, named Dean H., who had a pretty rough life in school, also afterward, and had just recently died--probably from a drug overdose (but that is just speculation).

We were riding in my old Mazda RX-7, through New Hampshire, near Lake Winnipesaukee, toward his father's house. We had made that trip during our senior year in high school. It was just like we were back in those years.

[Some non-dream background...]

* * *

Dean was not a happy person. He had a heavy full time schedule of drinking Budweiser at any possible chance he could. At the time, I was happy to join him, because--hell, it was the high school years; that's what we did.

I was one of Dean's only real friends at the time. Yes, he had a lot of other "friends", but there was a long-running rumor and joke about him, that should have died, instead of him. These other people would comment about it behind his back constantly. They were as relentless and merciless as kids can be.

One time, at a party, I was hanging out with the two guys who had started the rumor--maybe the most popular two guys in our class--also good friends of mine. They were telling the rumor again to some stranger from a neighboring town. When they'd finished, and the poison of their cruelty had spread just a little bit further into our social scene, I said, "You know you guys are being fucking assholes?" They were surprised at my sudden reaction, shrugging and chuckling. They asked me why I would say that. I told them that they were ruining his life.

They waved this off, one of them replying, "We are not! Don't be so sensitive man."

I simply said, "I guess we'll see."

This awful teasing is one of my class's dirty little, unspoken secrets. Something they all probably hoped to forget, especially in light of the fact that Dean's life DID fall apart, and eventually end far too early.

The two guys at the origin of the rumor were Catholic and strong believers who went to Saturday Mass every week. I can only hope that they have made it to confession since then.

This rumor was very cruel, unfair, and probably untrue, but it spread widely. Being a fairly confident person myself, associating with Dean was the least I could do for the guy. And, this association was not an act of charity on my part. I genuinely enjoyed his company. He was highly intelligent, open-minded, funny as hell (could do a great Eddie Murphy impression), and had a lot of style. That he pickled his brain so frequently never seemed to diminish any of these aspects.

I would learn that later on, after graduation, when we each went our separate ways, apparently, his drinking evolved into all sorts of other destructive substance abuse. But, I will always remember him as a kind and sympathetic person, with a truly good soul. I know he is enjoying the afterlife. And he deserves it.

* * *

In the dream, I kept talking to Dean. He'd look over from the passenger's seat, nod and smile, but wouldn't say anything--very unusual for him. He was looking out the window for most of the ride. 

We pulled into his father's driveway and parked. When I turned off the car, we sat for a silent moment in the evening light, looking up at his father's house. He stared straight ahead and said, "Thanks for coming with me, man."

A dog barked from the woods behind us, then another, then some others, they were whining and yelping...

Wait... Wait... SHIT! Those aren't dogs!

* * * * * * *

I woke up in the tent, listening to a bone-chilling sound that I'd only heard from afar in my travels: Coyotes!; a pack of maybe four or five. And, they were running toward my position. I knew I could handle one or two, but a pack? Probably not. I was still waking up and my normally sharp-instincts were stuck in neutral. I checked my watch. It was 11:15 pm.

I thought it would be best to simply sit as still as possible, but I did reach into the pocket of my backpack, and pulled out the hammer multitool. 

I had studied quite a bit about these animals. I'd always hoped to see some in the wild, but this wasn't quite what I'd imagined. They were going completely bananas in the clearing about thirty feet from the foot end of my tent, up a small rise. 

When they do this kind of spooky celebrating, it usually means they've made a kill and are in the process of ripping it apart. Canids are ALWAYS hungry. And, eating a little bit just whets their appetite for more.

The edge of the normally silent woods I'd spoken about in the last few posts was alive with leafy foot falls, running in every direction. It was hyper and chaotic--at least from my human perspective. My heart was beating so hard that I could hear it outside my body. Unlike western coyotes, eastern breeds are often mated with wolves and/or dogs, which creates a bigger, smarter and more bold animal. The eastern varieties also tend toward pack living, where the western ones live mostly as solitary individuals, only coming together to mate. All of this was passing through my mind.

I took out my digital recorder and left it recording, so that I could capture whatever was going to go down.

I also knew from my first crossing, and watching coyotes several times - when they were far away - that they prefer open fields. They will often avoid the woods. Thankfully, my tent was among a tangled series of low bushes and dead trees. It was also just below their sight. As they quieted down and transitioned from running to walking; pacing, really, I heard a couple of them come in closer to the edge of the woods and sniff the air, perhaps about twelve feet from my tent. I could smell them!

I was ready, if I needed to be. there is a strange peace that comes over the mind when I know that there is probably no way of avoiding a dangerous situation. Just then, it struck me that if I was able to smell them, they were much less likely to catch a whiff of me (since I was down wind). Also, my clothes were newly washed, rather than stinky. Soap is not naturally attractive to predators.

Shortly after hearing and smelling them, everything went silent. I waited a long half hour, before unzipping the sleeping bag and stepping outside to take a look around. They were gone, long gone. I did find it surprising just how quiet they could be in their departure. Of course, they had run back down the clearing, so there weren't as many noisy leaves through for them to rustle.

I breathed a big sigh of relief and returned to the tent. Instead of feeling less secure about this place, my confidence level was actually raised. I had originally considered sleeping up in that clearing. A mental note was stored: Always choose the woods if possible. 

I fell back asleep at about 12:20 am.