Dreamland

Last night’s dreams really stuck with me and made everything feel different when I woke up. They were so close that it was like they hung over my eyes like a hazy screen.

My brother, who I’ve been avoiding as of late, was in the living room of my aunt and grandparents’ home where we always stayed the weekend. Pull-out beds were on the floor and the light hit the farmland like it was early morning. Wooden beams, mixed shades of brown just like we had always woken up to before a breakfast of sausage patties and biscuits.

An awareness was in the air, even if I didn’t comprehend it completely.

I said to Christopher, “Just think. One day, this won’t be here, anymore. You think it’s different now that we aren’t little and mindless about everything – just imagine it being completely gone.”

My brother was silent. I assumed unspeakable thoughts of horror.

Something about it is gone in actuality. An entire person. The aura. And I haven’t seen Grandma or Aunt Robin in years because something like despair keeps me away.

But we had it back, just a little bit, for a moment, last night.

***

Then I was ordering Green Day tickets, excited as all hell. I get the annual Green Day dream and it’s always blissful, tapping some unchanging love inside me. Part of me always wants to see them, to have excellent seats. Sometimes I wake up before getting to the venue and it’s disappointing. Other times I see them and my pulse races in my sleep.

***

Finally, I was riding in the car with my family. Part of it seemed like downtown Hometown and yet it was entirely different with skyscrapers. Centered at the top of one tall building where you’d normally see a bell tower was a large window. From the car I could see that there were structured wings spanning out and down the entire wall of that room…and a girl seemed to be standing in the middle, making it look like she was an angel.

I was mesmerized by the sight of it. Somehow I could tell that she had turntable equipment in front of her as she watched the cars go by. We were moving so slow then, I waved and she waved back. I pressed a peace sign against the glass and she mimicked it. I even thought, “I have to write about her; this is so intriguing and beautiful.”

The car picked off the ground and I was nervous. My brain started to reason it as actually having been a small plane the whole time. We were lifted straight up to that angel’s window and I grabbed a stuffed animal of a blue sprite from Rainbow Brite to hold up and show her (Rave culture reference?). I pressed it against the glass but we were rotating and I didn’t get to see her. The fear from turning upside down in the air woke me up.

Feels different, this morning.

Eventually

September is still here.

My world is blanketed in a snow that summer could not melt. I feel it on the hood of my car, high above the symbol hidden underneath. It drapes over the cement birdbath, unmoving. The world outside my door is greyscale – true black. Dirty white. Melted mirrors and silence. It’s like a picture, as if nothing will ever move again…and then on some nights, when I am left alone to contemplate the lives and lies in my world…

it just starts falling from the sky in large, cold flakes.

Autumn, August. August, please.

I never know when a random fact will emerge, tying into a sad discovery. Dates, filtered words, conscious manipulation and relentless urging… I closed the book months ago. I don’t ask questions and refuse to listen. But some thoughts cannot be willed away. Some things… too many things… seem like yesterday.

There are people in my head who I never wanted to know. They’re real. They have names and faces. And for every new installment they find ways to do something in poor taste, adding matter to their ghostly holograms. Worse still, despite the benefit of minding their own business, they will come to this very place and dwell, uninvited, for the rest of my life.

It’s just a fact. Then they’ll get all hyped up over my words or my perspective, and go on lengthy campaigns for their innocence.

Eventually,

Eventually. They will come without judgement. They will have questions. They will be willing to see. And this will be waiting.

Maybe part of that is ego, refusing to change my name or shut the world out. Maybe I refuse to admit that I could use the protection. My song should be mine to sing and as near or far as it can soar.

Someone once told me it was something more.

If purpose can come from the winter, I invite it. I grant permission to look into my heart and try to understand what happened – and, more importantly, what happens – once someone falls in love with a grave mistake that kept coming back to kill over and over and over again.

This weather is indicating that it had nothing to with sunlight, book fairs, muffins or love. There are tracks a man does not think to cover and some things don’t delete.

I’ve seen them crowd around a faded image of me, twist their heads and comment how much I looked like someone else. I’ve looked through records of the nasty things they said. Places they all thought I would never go. Things that I would never see.

One person tried to make it so they’d never know,

it was always someone else who they thought looked like me.

We

had

a

history.

Celebration

Sunday – the End Of Summer Grill-Out continues!

Nicole just texted me "Summer isn't over. Hopefully, it never goes away." Awww, the poor girl is in denial.

Tomorrow I'm job-shadowing another specialist. Really excited about it. I can't say much because it's just too new, right now. I've already had people at the company approach me, wanting to know how I qualified and what they could do to be me. That's a neat feeling.

At this point I can look back on all of the crap that happened this year and see that I took the ruins and created something better and stronger. Family has been supportive and friends (old+new) have proven true. My spirit is much lighter…

and everything is possible, again.

Goodbyes

Today Brad is smoking ribs on the grill. Out on the patio table is a bucket of “mop sauce” and some weird brush that resembles a tiny mop. Although the heat is coming mainly from coals he has the meat off-center and exposed to a few pieces of burning wood that I can only assume is for the sake of flavor. He’s very excited about the whole thing.

We suffered RROD just in time for a disappointed boyfriend’s birthday. RROD, as in, Red Ring Of Death on the Xbox 360.


Disassembly.


Pennies wrapped in black electrical tape.

We did everything we could. Xclamps, pad removal, towel bake…but it was more serious than thermal paste or fever. We called its death on Monday evening. Lasted six years – which is a good run, anymore, for anything.

When I asked why he was packing it into the truck he simply said, “I’m taking it [/theXbox] out to the country and I’m going to shoot it.”

I spent a moment allowing that to process, thought of Hunter, and told him, “Okay.”

 

Looking Down

During a routine watering I looked down and spotted two critters on the same plant:

One was a baby tree frog…

And the other was a yellow grasshopper that I’ve never seen before…

On the other side of the yard, on the single lily standing 4 feet from the ground, this guy managed to get right inside of it…

By the time I was finished with the garden hose, everyone was gone.

The Hell Of A Week

My house, my family and my life headed down a conveyor belt towards an incinerator. It was quite a rush.

Chris spent a week in our home as a resident and not on vacation. He found a very different environment from the weekends of escape he’d known in the past. To summarize, he found my rules “too strict”, the rent “too high” and thought it was ridiculous of us to insist that he try to find a job.

“We all have our own reasons for wanting to get off the island,” he told me, the moment he arrived.

On Wednesday he walked to the corner for cigarettes and didn’t come home. I drove around looking for him in the pouring rain, worried sick. My mother lectured me for letting him out of my sight, insisting he was “long gone”. Brad went into the local tavern and asked if anyone had seen a guy wearing a white suit.

The whole row of gentlemen laughed. One spoke up, “You mean, The Darkness? HAHA! Ya know I told him he coulda used a fake name like ‘Phil’.”

Instant mortification for Brad, like when my brother mowed our lawn in the same suit two sizes too large.

He had already sauntered home by the time we got back to the house.

Now I can say that I tried. I forced him to admit powerlessness, made him reimburse us for the hassles he’d caused and even tried to reason using logic. Sadly, he has no real intention of becoming a better person.

As I write, he is riding back home with all of his belongings. I offered him a bit of life and he refused it (after using all the toilet paper, eating all of the food and bitching up a storm).

The worst of him will not break.