In the summertime, Dreamland (LakeView Cemetery) remains open until dusk to all visitors.  Only at dusk do the dual 20-foot tall ironclad gates get padlocked, keeping those out who are out and those who are in in, until sunrise signals the time of reopening again.

During the rest of the year, however, including these days of Spring, Dreamland closes its gates at 5:30 pm sharply.

Unlike past springs when I’d compliantly observe the posted hours, this Spring I have taken to running in Dreamland after-hours with virtually no other living human souls for proximate company.

My modus operandi: I hop a low fence at the dead-end of a old Italian neighborhood street to get in.  I run 4-6 miles.  I reward myself with a beer and contemplative moment (which may last anywhere from 5 minutes to an hour) afterwards.  Then I hop the fence out and rejoin the throngs of the living.

I crave the solitude provided by this routine since it affords me unique moments for self-discovery and sometimes even provides me with inspirational insights into some ageless unsolved mysteries (like why the fuck we are here), the nature of precisely what is, and the course of things to be.

I left a comment on MarnieMarnieMarnie’s post this morning that expresses what I get out of it most succinctly:

when i run in dreamland, i am alone, except for the grey geese and the red fox that share the running paths.  the company is interesting, self-challenging, and life-affirming.  but i don't ponder whether i like the company i keep.  it's not a matter of liking or not - but one rather of unconditionally embracing the world  thusly manifest.

When I do leave Dreamland, however, I also covet the company of the living.  For without the company of the living, there is no cavorting.  And cavorting, after all, is one of the reasons we are here.