When I first arrived in Ocean Beach, I couldn’t sleep for shit.  I hadn’t been sleeping well for quite some time.  My nights were filled with nightmares and panic.  Shooting up straight out of bed with a gasp, straight from sleep to fight-or-flight.  Like there was a 200 pound Saber-Tooth tiger rumbling outside my cave.  Every ..single..night.

I found myself watching the sun come up every morning.  I would head toward the ocean, tasting the salt of this new paradise on my lips. A big, doofy dog, happy to join me.  I would walk alone…speaking only to apologize if another early riser was molested by aforementioned doofy dog.  I would sit and watch the surfers paddle out.  I would pet that dog. I would call the face that was haunting me.  Willing him to call me had become a waste of time.

One day, a friendly face I had begun to notice regularly on those early mornings, struck up a conversation.  She asked me if I was an Obecian.  I had no idea what she was talking about.  I found it quite odd. But there is a lot  of “odd” in Ocean Beach and there are a lot of lost souls who can’t sleep – picking at and mumbling to themselves.  I gave her a funny look and she told me an Obecian was someone who lived in Oceach Beach.  It was still a question I couldn’t answer just yet.


Read more about my crazy journey.


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