A trip to Die for in Amsterdam - ( Hadj 2008)
Posted: Tue 6th Jan 2009 05:41 pm
This is a short story I wrote after my last trip in March 08. My friends here enjoyed it, so I thought some of you might as well.
In the end, it was simultaneously the most stressful and the most wonderful day of my life, and through my welcomed and dreaded deadline, I blissfully slept.
It was exactly four months ago, on November 14th when I had the dream, although it wasn't exactly a dream.
I recall being in that nether state between awake and asleep. There was an eerie and yet somehow reassuring orange glow streaming into my closet sized Brooklyn bedroom from the HPS streetlamp outside. Here in the safe solitude of my divorcee dad home and haven, I had slept well. Before this place in the turmoil that was my life as I reassembled the shattered and scattered pieces , there had been many restless nights. There were many painful and disturbing dreams before, but not now. Not here in my new safe place.
Things were definitely on the 'upswing' after hitting a 'low' worthy of an epic melodrama.
Peacefully, I drifted away, contented, satisfied and pleased.
"You have four months to live." a man's voice distinctly said.
With a single swift movement I sat up wide eyed, stunned, sweating and heart racing. At the bed's edge I vainly searched for the source of the voice. More alert and awake than I can ever recall feeling, I realized there was no man. Was it a dream, or was it a prophesy?
I calculated ahead four months, March 14th, 2008. Being a believer that thoughts create your reality, I tried to erase thoughts of my predicted expiration date. In vain, I tried to push the thoughts away.
I found the sobering prediction was not without its blessings, for I treated each moment of each day as though I had a death sentence, savoring and enjoying them more fully than ever before. I found myself much more mindful of the ripe potential of each moment, and I more thoroughly enjoyed them all. My love and appreciation for the loved ones in my life regenerated like the spring, and the bonds of love with my daughters burst to new heights.
There were ups and there were downs during these four months, except the lows didn't seem so low, and highs seemed to occur naturally, no longer requiring effort on my behalf.
Onward time marched forward. It was in late February that more good news came, an unexpectedly large tax refund enabled me to buy the peak season airfare I was hoping to afford for a family vacation to Norway. There was even money left over.
So, there I sat, three months into the prediction of my expiration with tickets for a family vacation in July paid for in full, and a thousand dollars left over from my unexpected windfall. Never a believer in coincidence, I saw an omen when at that moment my Amsterdam airfare alert offered me the cheapest fare I had seen there yet.
Following my first instincts, I quickly reserved the flight, and then called the Bulldog Hotel and Hostel. The Bulldog had become a very comfortable place for me, my Amsterdam home. There I had made many good friends among the staff and the guests. And so the 2008 Hajj to my personal Mecca was planned.
All of this was contingent on the outcome of the 'dream' of course. This made the timing even more ideal, for if I had to die, there was no happier place for than Amsterdam.
On March 14th I awoke and began my day by smoking the world's finest blond hash and green weed. Amsterdam is like Disneyworld for Stoners, and so if this was to be my last day, I would die in my favorite place having the time of my life. The ever present and benevolent hotel manager Lami sat with me talking and we caught up on our respective life's events since my last visit. I met a group traveling from the UK celebrating their mates birthday, and 'Tim', a Shaman like soul from Illinois, traveling with his rock guitarist buddy. We sat a spoke and toked with K-O, a youth counselor from Helsinki, and everything was right. Inside my mind, an ancient and wise American Indian gently reminded me 'today is a good day to die' and I was at peace.
It was unseasonably warm and spring like for March, and so I thoroughly enjoyed touring this beautiful city by tram and by foot. Satisfying my thirst for knowledge of this wondrous place and those who built it, I drank in the exhibits at the Amsterdam History Museum and marveled at it's glorious history. Just around the corner, down a typically narrow Amsterdam alley, I relaxed in a superbly comfortable sofa at the famous Abraxas coffee shop and enjoyed some more of Holland's finest.
The Bulldog is very centrally located and so it is a very convenient location to return to often during the day, which is my habit. Inserting my key card into the door of my room, I was flashed a red NO ENTRY light, indicating my card was expired. Occurring on this particular day, thoughts of being the subject of a bizarre 'Twilight Zone' episode ran through my mind. Was I already dead, ala The Sixth Sense, a ghost unable to gain entry into the room? Feebly, I pushed this thought aside aside, ran downstairs and appealed to the front desk clerk. Like magic, my expired card was again alive, granting access to my room. I took care of my business and headed back out into the Dam.
As the day progressed, I returned to my room five more times. Each time upon returning to my room, my card was expired. Thoughts of imminent death growing with each card swipe, I pressed on. Walking the streets, I increasingly felt like an invisible spirit, benevolently haunting this fair city.
My day culminated with a Chamber Music performance at the Concertgebouw, whose astounding acoustics absolutely mesmerized me. On my way back home, I glanced at my watch, it read 10 PM and my first thought was 'what a glorious day', followed by 'two hours to go'. Just then, the moon caught my eye. It was a beautiful half waxing moon and I thought 'what are you saying to me?' Could the voice have been wrong? Could he have been specific about the number of months and yet ambiguous about the number of years? Could my 'new plan' have altered my fate? Did the half moon signify my half life? Two hours would tell.
For the last time this day, I returned to my room and hesitated long before inserting my key card.
The entry light flashed RED AGAIN.
It was now almost 11 PM, and for the 6th time this day, I went to the front desk. Yet another member of the Bulldog family staffed the front desk, and so this time, I explained more fully my dilemma, telling Fiona about the dream and the repeating card access problems. She looked concerned, then unconvincingly amused, and she gave me a brand new card saying this one wouldn't expire for certain. I went upstairs, inserted the card and got the GREEN LIGHT!
I changed out of my formal cloths and back into my stoner-wear and went downstairs with my PC streaming beautiful tunes from Radio Paradise into my earphones. The computers battery was now almost dead, and looking to erase any negative omens, I began immediately charging it at the first available AC outlet in the lobby. Fiona waved to me and asked if my card worked. I told her 'yes' and then rolled a giant spliff and we smoked it together. I checked my emails, listened to my fine tunes and watched the clock closely as it approached midnight.
Finally, the clock struck 12:00, and I jumped up and did a happy dance right there in the public lobby. I noticed the Fiona watching me closely, smiling, speaking and so I took out my ear phones. She said 'I see that your dream was just a dream after all' and we laughed heartily together.
I went into the bar and sat down to celebrate with my good friend David. We laughed about my dilemma with friends old and new. As the bar closed down at 4 AM I was blissfully exhausted and a most unwelcome thought occurred to me.
Was the dream referring to my HOME time zone, where it was still only 10 PM?
Exhausted, I went up to my room and climbed into my bed.
Through this new deadline, I blissfully slept. It was the most stressful and the most wonderful day of my life.
In the end, it was simultaneously the most stressful and the most wonderful day of my life, and through my welcomed and dreaded deadline, I blissfully slept.
It was exactly four months ago, on November 14th when I had the dream, although it wasn't exactly a dream.
I recall being in that nether state between awake and asleep. There was an eerie and yet somehow reassuring orange glow streaming into my closet sized Brooklyn bedroom from the HPS streetlamp outside. Here in the safe solitude of my divorcee dad home and haven, I had slept well. Before this place in the turmoil that was my life as I reassembled the shattered and scattered pieces , there had been many restless nights. There were many painful and disturbing dreams before, but not now. Not here in my new safe place.
Things were definitely on the 'upswing' after hitting a 'low' worthy of an epic melodrama.
Peacefully, I drifted away, contented, satisfied and pleased.
"You have four months to live." a man's voice distinctly said.
With a single swift movement I sat up wide eyed, stunned, sweating and heart racing. At the bed's edge I vainly searched for the source of the voice. More alert and awake than I can ever recall feeling, I realized there was no man. Was it a dream, or was it a prophesy?
I calculated ahead four months, March 14th, 2008. Being a believer that thoughts create your reality, I tried to erase thoughts of my predicted expiration date. In vain, I tried to push the thoughts away.
I found the sobering prediction was not without its blessings, for I treated each moment of each day as though I had a death sentence, savoring and enjoying them more fully than ever before. I found myself much more mindful of the ripe potential of each moment, and I more thoroughly enjoyed them all. My love and appreciation for the loved ones in my life regenerated like the spring, and the bonds of love with my daughters burst to new heights.
There were ups and there were downs during these four months, except the lows didn't seem so low, and highs seemed to occur naturally, no longer requiring effort on my behalf.
Onward time marched forward. It was in late February that more good news came, an unexpectedly large tax refund enabled me to buy the peak season airfare I was hoping to afford for a family vacation to Norway. There was even money left over.
So, there I sat, three months into the prediction of my expiration with tickets for a family vacation in July paid for in full, and a thousand dollars left over from my unexpected windfall. Never a believer in coincidence, I saw an omen when at that moment my Amsterdam airfare alert offered me the cheapest fare I had seen there yet.
Following my first instincts, I quickly reserved the flight, and then called the Bulldog Hotel and Hostel. The Bulldog had become a very comfortable place for me, my Amsterdam home. There I had made many good friends among the staff and the guests. And so the 2008 Hajj to my personal Mecca was planned.
All of this was contingent on the outcome of the 'dream' of course. This made the timing even more ideal, for if I had to die, there was no happier place for than Amsterdam.
On March 14th I awoke and began my day by smoking the world's finest blond hash and green weed. Amsterdam is like Disneyworld for Stoners, and so if this was to be my last day, I would die in my favorite place having the time of my life. The ever present and benevolent hotel manager Lami sat with me talking and we caught up on our respective life's events since my last visit. I met a group traveling from the UK celebrating their mates birthday, and 'Tim', a Shaman like soul from Illinois, traveling with his rock guitarist buddy. We sat a spoke and toked with K-O, a youth counselor from Helsinki, and everything was right. Inside my mind, an ancient and wise American Indian gently reminded me 'today is a good day to die' and I was at peace.
It was unseasonably warm and spring like for March, and so I thoroughly enjoyed touring this beautiful city by tram and by foot. Satisfying my thirst for knowledge of this wondrous place and those who built it, I drank in the exhibits at the Amsterdam History Museum and marveled at it's glorious history. Just around the corner, down a typically narrow Amsterdam alley, I relaxed in a superbly comfortable sofa at the famous Abraxas coffee shop and enjoyed some more of Holland's finest.
The Bulldog is very centrally located and so it is a very convenient location to return to often during the day, which is my habit. Inserting my key card into the door of my room, I was flashed a red NO ENTRY light, indicating my card was expired. Occurring on this particular day, thoughts of being the subject of a bizarre 'Twilight Zone' episode ran through my mind. Was I already dead, ala The Sixth Sense, a ghost unable to gain entry into the room? Feebly, I pushed this thought aside aside, ran downstairs and appealed to the front desk clerk. Like magic, my expired card was again alive, granting access to my room. I took care of my business and headed back out into the Dam.
As the day progressed, I returned to my room five more times. Each time upon returning to my room, my card was expired. Thoughts of imminent death growing with each card swipe, I pressed on. Walking the streets, I increasingly felt like an invisible spirit, benevolently haunting this fair city.
My day culminated with a Chamber Music performance at the Concertgebouw, whose astounding acoustics absolutely mesmerized me. On my way back home, I glanced at my watch, it read 10 PM and my first thought was 'what a glorious day', followed by 'two hours to go'. Just then, the moon caught my eye. It was a beautiful half waxing moon and I thought 'what are you saying to me?' Could the voice have been wrong? Could he have been specific about the number of months and yet ambiguous about the number of years? Could my 'new plan' have altered my fate? Did the half moon signify my half life? Two hours would tell.
For the last time this day, I returned to my room and hesitated long before inserting my key card.
The entry light flashed RED AGAIN.
It was now almost 11 PM, and for the 6th time this day, I went to the front desk. Yet another member of the Bulldog family staffed the front desk, and so this time, I explained more fully my dilemma, telling Fiona about the dream and the repeating card access problems. She looked concerned, then unconvincingly amused, and she gave me a brand new card saying this one wouldn't expire for certain. I went upstairs, inserted the card and got the GREEN LIGHT!
I changed out of my formal cloths and back into my stoner-wear and went downstairs with my PC streaming beautiful tunes from Radio Paradise into my earphones. The computers battery was now almost dead, and looking to erase any negative omens, I began immediately charging it at the first available AC outlet in the lobby. Fiona waved to me and asked if my card worked. I told her 'yes' and then rolled a giant spliff and we smoked it together. I checked my emails, listened to my fine tunes and watched the clock closely as it approached midnight.
Finally, the clock struck 12:00, and I jumped up and did a happy dance right there in the public lobby. I noticed the Fiona watching me closely, smiling, speaking and so I took out my ear phones. She said 'I see that your dream was just a dream after all' and we laughed heartily together.
I went into the bar and sat down to celebrate with my good friend David. We laughed about my dilemma with friends old and new. As the bar closed down at 4 AM I was blissfully exhausted and a most unwelcome thought occurred to me.
Was the dream referring to my HOME time zone, where it was still only 10 PM?
Exhausted, I went up to my room and climbed into my bed.
Through this new deadline, I blissfully slept. It was the most stressful and the most wonderful day of my life.
), a Shaman like soul from Illinois, traveling with his rock guitarist buddy Kelly. We sat a spoke and toked with Keijo, a youth counselor from Helsinki, and everything was right. Inside my mind, an ancient and wise American Indian gently reminded me 'today is a good day to die' and I was at peace.
, where it was still only 10 PM?