Dead Dog's Tale

It was early, that thin light before dawn when the world is still gray and half-formed, and I slipped off the houseboat barefoot and quiet, careful not to wake the others. The air was cool, almost cold, and Lake Tahoe stretched out before me like glass. So still it seemed unnatural, like something in a dream or a world not yet made. The water lay flat and wide beneath the mountains, cradled by those indifferent peaks, high ridges of rock that stood like old sentinels. Watching. Waiting. The islands, rising dark from the water like the backs of sunken beasts, seemed forgotten too, as if this place had been lost for centuries. The whole lake felt that way. Like time itself had grown slow and tired here, a strange land where everything had stopped. I liked it that way. Inside the houseboat, my family was still asleep—Mom and Dad, my aunt and uncle, all my cousins crammed into bunks, dreaming of eggs and bacon, of whatever people dream of who have no hunger for real adventure. But not me. ...

As I stumbled off the Greyhound and into the inferno of Los Angeles’s Figueroa Street, I was immediately assaulted by the pungent cocktail of sweat, sex, and hopelessness. The air reeked of unwashed pussy and bad decisions, a sugary stench that clung to your skin like the ghost of sins past. I could feel the spirit of Dirty Harry gripping my soul, whispering dark truths about this forsaken stink of urban decay. This wasn’t just another day in the city of Angels; this was a plunge into the gut-wrenching bowels of the beast, a reckless dive into the chaotic underworld where the polished facade of civilization cracks wide open, exposing the raw, throbbing nerves of reality. The sun hung low, casting an eerie glow over the sprawling mobile meat market, a fitting backdrop for the madness I came to unleash. The streets were a twisted tapestry of human folly, each thread woven with tales of survival, ambition, and relentless vice. The gutters ran with hard-cried tears and the kind of piss tha...

I began dreaming of an experience I had more than thirty years ago. I never forgot what happened, but when I recall memories, they were ephemeral, like grasping smoke, and I would quickly forget again. However, since the dreams began, my memories of the experience are becoming more concrete. I want to further solidify the experience for myself and see, on the off-hand chance, if anyone else has information that could assist me in resolving these events. This occurred at Big Bear Lake in Big Bear, California, in the summer of 1986. My family had access to a vacation cabin there. We stayed a week. But none of that really matters concerning the experience...as far as I remember.  I was swimming in Big Bear Lake. I remember the lake was busy. Tiny islands, rocky outcroppings, and hidden coves dot Big Bear Lake. I liked adventuring and swimming alone, so I headed to the out-of-way outcroppings. In 1986, I was hyper-fixated on dinosaurs. I regularly imagined slipping back into time throu...