What is it about a dream? An expectation… For me, the dream is Key West. Not uncommon to a writer. It is a place – like Paris – where the unwanted are wanted to go.
I had a dream: Me & my wife were on a beach, I knew it was Key West, we were waiting for our crab legs to be delivered to us. We were also waiting to go see the Hemingway house. A gorgeous dream.
Two days later, after some great time reflecting on such a wonderful dream, some friends showed up on the farm. The couples that were there for me & Tara’s wedding. – Friends! And I remember a time when I did not have many friends. I had no friends at all, in fact, & the wandering was terrible.
Now, being with Tara, I have many friends. People that care about me, Care about my way of life… how me & Tara live our life.
It is hard to explain… kinda like the dream. A feeling & a sensation that is beyond words.
A grey ghost listening to whispered secrets, accepting the silents in prayes, & I walk down the hotel hallways, feeling the flowered wallpaper…
I was in bed just now, that sentence going through my brain. God, I love being a writer, at times, anyway.
Why not love it?
The wonder of the word is miraculous.
There is this wonderful sensation I get, waking up in the morning, & I think about what I can write about. For example, there is a movie, For the Boys, that was created/filmed in 1991… maybe 1990. Anyway, it was released on November 27, 1991. Tara and I watched it last night. And I told my mother we watched it. It is one of those movies that I consider a classic… a classic because it is a family favorite. Growing up, I listened to the soundtrack to that movie.
It’s also a classic to me because I can talk to family about it. I talked to my sister about it, my mother, & I wish I could talk to other families about it, but they are narrow-minded, poorly mindset about their morals, and totally undisciplined on the recess of the whole mind-bent precision of forgiveness.
But, anyway, I was at the pharmacy, getting my monthly narcotic & I saw a large, plastic jar. It was full of Dum-Dum suckers. I looked at that jar, thought back to my childhood… thought back to when I first started reading, & I don’t remember the exact day – or how old I was – but I do remember there was a newspaper in my mother’s vehicle, Calvin and Hobbes was still being published, & I could read the damned thing. But, along with Calvin and Hobbes, I remember every time we went to the bank, there were Dum-Dum suckers available to us kids, in an envelope with a deposit receipt.
Some things, I hope, will never change.
Even though I do not eat Dum-Dum suckers anymore, I want the kids to have the same joys.