i don’t think you understand.
somehow, your timing is just always right.
and it lifts me up.
and so, when i need to smile,
you’re a good go-to.
so i pack up the tent in the morning,
kinda of grudgingly cause i’m depressed as hell,
and i head back to the house.
i have a bottle of malbec and decide to have a glass with lunch.
then i pass out.
in my dream, you return.
we talk on the phone about sleeping bags
and i dare to tell you that i missed you.
you say, “yea, i get it.”
and i tell you that i think i still have your flashlight.
you agree that you will come by to get it.
i insist you should just stay the night since it’s a few hours drive.
you hesitate, but then agree once I tell you that I’ll make breakfast sausage with coffee cakes in the morning.
i get so ecstatic and hang up the phone.
i should realize it’s a dream at this point because it’s an old fashioned landline phone.
but instead, i start readying my house.
and as i’m looking in the mirror,
i wake up and realize that it was just another dream.
after checking out several modern operas,
i’m astounded at the electronic staging.
it’s so wild.
and it makes me so happy that people are still writing operas.
i mean, really.
it makes me proud of humanity that art still
and still has
a distinct audience.
why do operas make me think so damn much.
so provoking and evocative.
clever detective work.
art wins again.
now feeling slightly gentrified
by this generational,though far from general, genre
i genuinely consider
writing my own someday.
you know, in my gentle, generative years.
traditional psychology tells you that at mid life your *dreams* shatter.
Funny, but i find that i am having new dreams.
Dreams that are lucid, attainable, palpable, even.
Leading this vanguard,
I have my dragon by the reigns;
I didn’t have to crush her, I only had to control her.
and I’m the one breathing fire now.
I’ve found oneness, stillness,
and a vision of healing love.
Empowered by this vision quest,
I find myself renewed.
It’s funny that somethings have to die in order that we may live.
Sitting under the Bodhi tree, visiting the Oak of Tabor, considering the Terebinth and Oaks of Moreh…. I think of Christ, I think of the the Phoenix, and I think of the Lotus flower.
Feeling Grateful, I whisper Hallelujah, Namaste, Hare Hare, and AMEN.
I’m not even joking, my post was deleted twice now. I know how you ghost lovers are. Cruel world.
Not even a draft saved? And the preview was empty?
Well, my nightingale, I see you are still in favor of anonymity…but, thank you for your song and for still visiting my dreams. I thought you were gone for good. What a comfort to know you will still visit and …perhaps erase my messages about you 😉
That’s cool. I’ll keep it between us from now on.
sometimes it’s necessary to claim “who you are”. sometimes this claim includes others and the Other claiming YOU. we all live this story. however, this story of adventure, identity, and community is hard to compare to andrew mcauley’s attempt to cross the Tasman Sea in 2007. Here he is in his one-man kayak…as his community purports, he crossed Tasman…..both he and his community believed in his dream and what a beautiful dream that was….God Bless you, Andrew, and your family and friends…knowing that the dream was realized to those who supported you 🙂 You are a hero and an inspiration to us all 😀
Here’s a short clip from Andrew’s memory card that was found
the full video can be seen here: http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/solo-lost-at-sea/