and she said.. "how you interpret the dream is probably more important than the dream itself"

Took off late on Thursday night after a rocking show featuring Ogre, a local Black Sabbath meets Stoner Rock band.. took off out of this city and headed up into the real Maine, the one with sticks and stones that will break your bones. Took a pit-stop at my old stomping grounds of G-town to pick up some stragglers and then it was on up to central Maine - not the "Central Maine" you hear about when people talk about Augusta, the capitol, but the real central Maine - the geographic center. Pulled into the small town of Dexter Maine, a spot on the map barely noticable at all if not for the Internationally known Dexter Shoe Company.. the same company that pulled out it's last factory recently in favour of puerto rico or some such place, killing 1,400 jobs in a region where 500 is astronomical. Now Dexter is a dried up town, a shell of it's former self, depressed as any in this State, and struggling not to blow away in the wind. If it were located in the plains of the mid-west a good strong gust could pick it up and send it tumble-weeding all the way to the Pacific ocean but here in Maine we're lucky enough to have the northern end of the Applachians keeping the wind above our shanty shacks while we try to light our GPC cigarettes and staple the tar-paper back down over the cracks in the walls.

Took off for a weekend getaway where I could stop life for a second, for one short weekend, and just breath. Took off for a place - both mental and phsyical - that is fleeting at best but oh-so-sweet while you're there. Took off for camp.

Camp for some is synonmous with "summer camp" where, as a kid, you packed away your sleeping bag and shipped off with a bunch of other brats to a compound replete with tennis courts, sailboats, ping-pong tables, cabins, and counselors. Here in Maine we have gazillions of such camps but they are populated mostly with out-of-staters. Kids of celebrities and company CEOs from California or New York. Jewish American Princess' and their male counterparts learning how to sneak out of their cabins to kiss behind the mess hall. No one from Maine goes to these camps.. we go down the road with our fishing pole and jump off the bridge into the river. We go to our family camp - often older than our parents with leaning frame, leaking roof, and rickety porch. We don't judge camps for their amenities such as telephones, cable tv, or broadband access because none of them have any. Camps are for open fires and swimming in lakes so cold as to make your testicles climb up inside you and hide next to your liver. Camps are for grilling hotdogs in the fire pit and picking fiddleheads in the spring, for lying out in the sun in your underwear listening to the ballgame on the tiny radio. Camps are for getting away from the world, from people, from places, from everything. Camp is the eraser applied to the blackboard of your mind, clearing away the fog of society to leave a clean slate - a breath of fresh air - a second to catch your breath.

Got into camp around 2 AM and had a smoke out on the porch. Listened intently at the night and heard nothing. No cars, no sirens, no hum of a city at night. Breathed a sigh of relief. Climbed up the stairs to the loft and climbed into bed - wooden platforms with twin mattresses thrown on top with old sleeping bags for blankets. Turned off the lights and turned on the fan - a rectangle frame of pine wood with two fan motors screwed into the cross beam, an attempt to save what was left of a cheap walmart jobby built out of plastic. Listened to the hum as we drifted off to sleep, listened to the loons calling back and forth to eachother out on the water, listened to the sound of our minds winding down - like a big V-8 muscle car coming down from 7,000 RPMs to settle in to a low idle. Listened to nothing.

Woke up early on Friday - early for us, anyway - at 11AM. Walked around outside in bare feet feeling the grass between our toes and smelling the fresh air. Looked up and squinted at the sun. Sat around. Camp is all about sitting around. Played some horseshoes, some cribbage, and some JU. Watched the Outlaw Jocey Wales - a Clint Eastwood classic. Rode into town with our arms and legs out the windows looking for sweet high school girls to appreciate and some sweet corn to enjoy. Got vegetables and lean meat for the grill, got some Moxie, got some more cigars. Went slow.

Went so slow we forgot what time it was and for the whole weekend we ate when we wanted to and slept when we wanted to and swam when we wanted to and just sat around - when we wanted to. Didn't look at the clock and didn't worry about the rest of the world spinning so fast around us.. as if the axis - the center of the world - was right there in Dexter and the whole globe was spinning and gyrating around that very point, all the energy of the universe bubbling and broiling and go-go-go-going except right there, right in Dexter, where we just sat.. and smoked our cigars.

Stood wasit deep in the frigid water waiting for the legs to go numb so the rest of the body could handle the cold. Arms crossed, looking around at eachother with Moxie cans floating nearby for quick retrieval, damp smoldering cigars hanging from the corners of our mouths, talking about whatever. Counted to ten as we slowly lowered ourselfs into the water one inch at a time until our entire heads were underwater and we were screaming bubbles at the shock of the ice water. Swam out to the underwater rock pile, built back when we were industrious 15 year olds wander the moon-like surface of the bottom of the lake with huge rocks in our arms, bouncing slowly through the water like moonwalkers. Had an underwater swimming contest - who could go the farthest - didn't notice who won, and went to smoke another cigar while we layed in the sun drying off.

Cooked some corn. Drank a Mox.

Drove around town for no good reason going five miles below the speed limit flying our hands out the windows like little mini-airplane wings. Explored the shanty houses and run-down businesses and stopped for breakfast at the Dexter Cafe. Chased cute girls into the department store and bought reject Carhart's for half price and went back to camp to smoke a cigar.

Sunday evening rolled around and dishes were washed, floors were swept, beds were made, and windows were pulled shut. Locks were bolted, backpacks filled up and snapped shut, and we piled into the car to head on out of the center of the universe where no one knew what was going on in the rest of the world, where the unemployment rate is higher than it was during the great depression, where people who live there don't know if or when they will get their next paycheck..

Maybe a sad place to be for the rest of your life... but absolutely perfect for the weekend.