Dream a Little Dream

I just woke up in my computer chair. That’s nothing new. I do it all the time. There’s a short little video clip (somewhere here in one of the many boxes that contain my life) that my ex took of me doing that very thing. My fingers are on the keyboard, I am sitting upright, and my head is turned up waiting for flies to crawl into. It is something that really made me laugh, seeing myself doing something that I knew I did from a third person’s point of view.

This time, I woke up with my hands on the armrests of this comfortable computer chair; the same one I was sitting in for that video. I had been dreaming. I barely remember my dreams after waking unless I write down what was going on soon after I wake up. In this dream, I was at a store (I’m pretty sure it was a home-improvement store, because I have been assessing the things that need to be done here…things that have to be done…and I think there were things in my buggy for working on the house). While shopping, I got a phone call from a friend. This friend is someone who I have only known a short time, but grew close to really fast. I don’t really remember the entire phone conversation, but near the end of it, I was hearing that she never wanted to see me again. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and I really took it hard. I tried to think of what I had done to push her away, to make her not want to even be around me. I couldn’t think of one thing. At the end of the conversation, after I had hung up, I saw her walking across the parking lot waving good-bye to me. I waved and then turned around to the trunk of my bus (trunk? My bus doesn’t have a trunk…), put my face in my hands and cried. I woke up from this dream with tears on my face.

Dreams. They are strange to me. A mix of true life and fantasy. A mix of daily activities and sub-conscious thoughts. A bit of what you show to others and some of what you keep inside. Some say that dreams really mean something, that usually there is a message to be taken from them. I mean, there are scientists and psychiatrists who base their entire careers upon the dreams of others. I just say they are dreams, something that your mind takes and makes a little Hollywood production out of. I have had dreams that are so goofy that are filled with things that just don’t make sense or are things that I have never even done or probably will never do. I have had dreams that are light and flowery, the ones you wake up to and try to go back to sleep to keep on dreaming. I have had dreams so scary that I wake up frightened and do what I can to keep from going back to sleep. I have even had dreams that make me question my own morality; dreams of depraved sexuality or murderous intent…

I don’t know what to make of this latest dream. This friend of mine hasn’t told me that she never wants to see me again. But I was told over the phone that there wasn’t enough time in her life for seeing anyone right now, that maybe God was pointing her in another direction. I don’t have any reason to disbelieve her. I don’t have any reason to hate or despise her…and I don’t on both counts. I want her to be happy. I believe that people need to be happy with themselves and the choices they make, to put their own priorities in front of what other people want, and this includes my own priorities and choices as well.

Like I said, I barely remember my dreams. But there are some that I can’t get rid of. When I was a child and staying at my grandma’s house, I remember hearing a Whippoorwill singing late at night. I thought it sounded spooky, like a spirit lost in the woods trying to find its way back to its body. I’m pretty sure it led to the dream I had that night. I was lying in my bed and I saw this figure walking towards me. I couldn’t tell what it was, whether it was a person or a monster. When it got close to the side of my bed, I could see what it was; a skeleton reaching out to me, not touching me, but it had a pointing finger in my face. Even though I was probably five years old at the time, I still remember that dream.

More recently (and I have blogged about this on my MySpace blog) though, the one dream that I distinctly remember was not scary, but I woke up more or less scratching my head. In this dream, I was in a house with many rooms. The house was full of scantily clad or even naked women. Some had faces of women that I knew, some that I didn’t know, some that are in the public eye, and some didn’t even have faces at all, just blurry features as so not to be able to tell who they were. As I went from room to room, a new sexual experience awaited me. I was doing things that I have done, things that I have thought about, and even things that pushed me to the edge of sexual self-indulgence. I woke up in a stupor, wondering just where in the hell that came from. What part of my brain held these thoughts, even if some were thoughts that I never think of, things that I would never do. It made me question my own immorality. I just know that I am not that depraved…

Dreams usually come from reality. They come from deep inside of us, and also from influences outside of us. I will admit that there is a chance they could have a meaning that we can interpret and put to use in our lives. Relationships with friends, family, lovers, or even enemies; choices to be made in which direction to take; answers to questions we have…all could be answered in dreams. I don’t put too much faith in that, but it is possible. Love and matters of the heart? I do believe that dreams could tell us something. Especially for us that love means a lot too. I once had a friend put a caption at the bottom of a painting he had made that said, “Love does not exist but in the minds of poets and dreamers.” I am both. I have many poems written on the subject of love inspired by dreams. Here is one of them…a little cheesy, but nonetheless…

Dreamland

There is a place I’d like to be,
in a mystical place beside the sea.
Just you and me in this place I see.
And ever and ever we will be…

…One together, two apart;
Two in body, one in heart.
And never again shall we part.

We will dance in the shadows of a summer moon
and in the light of the dying sun.
We will dance to the beat of each other’s hearts.
We will dance till our dance is done.

We will laugh together,
learn together,
live together,
love together.
We will be for each other
and not another.

This place can be real to you,
as real as it seems to me.
But it’s nothing more than fanciful dreams
if you are not here with me.

These dreams can come true
if you just take my hand in yours.
We can go to this place
to dream a dream
and dance on sandy shores.

I don’t know if I will dream again tonight. I might. I might not. It isn’t something planned. It just happens. Just like things in real life. Unplanned things happen, things that are just out of our control. But, if you really believe in this stuff that happens, just like in dreams, you can take what happens and put it to use; use it to make a change in your direction, to make a change in yourself. I do believe in that. I really do. I am trying to live it right now. I know that I want to take the mistakes I have made in the past and put them to use in my future, to ensure that those things don’t happen again; or if the occurrences are good, use them to make the future brighter for myself and for my children.

It is oh, so late. I must get to bed. And possibly dream…

All Hail Santa

It’s that time of year again, when the merriment of the holiday season brings peace and joy to people all over the world; when children delight in wondering just what Santa will bring them this year; and people unite in a harmonious effort to spread a little love to those around them. It’s Christmas time, y’all! It will be here sooner than you think. In fact, it is tomorrow! Yeah! What? It isn’t tomorrow? Well, according to the decorations and things for sale at Wal Mart, Walgreen’s, K Mart, The Dollar Tree, Dollar General, and the wondrous Hamilton Place Mall, it should be tomorrow. I mean, they have been setting up and selling Christmas items since before Halloween. I half expected a role reversal from A Nightmare Before Christmas to occur…Santa taking over Jack Skellington’s role of King of Halloween. Sheesh. Oh, and save a space at the Thanksgiving table for one more; a fat guy in a red and white suit. Better hope you have enough cookies and milk on the table…

I mean come on. I love Christmas. I really do. But the way I see it…it is getting ridiculous. The first time I walked into Wal Mart and actually heard Christmas music playing was when I was going in looking at Halloween decorations. What?!? I felt something inside of me snap. I almost couldn’t hold back an almost angry sense of disgust. I can understand the department stores wanting to jump the gun on the competition. If someone is ready to buy their giant inflatable snow globes with a manger scene and Santa flying in the background before anyone else does, they are going to buy it at the place that has it for sale first. But it still racks my nerves.

And speaking of firsts, I saw a first just the other day. I’ve seen Halloween yard decorations, Christmas yard decorations, Easter decorations, etc. but have never seen official Thanksgiving yard decorations until this year. Planted in the front yard of a house was a giant blow-up turkey. Yep, a turkey with a light shining on it like it was a gift from heaven. Heaven help me…

Has it always been like this? I don’t seem to remember the holiday shopping season coming at us full force so early years ago like it is now. Maybe it’s because I just can’t remember. I really can’t. From what I can remember, the day after Thanksgiving has always been the start of the Christmas shopping spree. On your marks! Get set! Shop! That is fine with me. But the pushing back of the bombardment of holiday songs, set-ups, decorations, sales, etc. is driving me absolutely nuts. Don’t tell me I’m the only one who feels this. You know you’re thinking the same thing.

Well, since it is full-front and out in my face, might as well get started. This Christmas looks pretty bleak, as far as the “get the kids what they want to please them” aspect goes. I won’t be one of those out there pushing and shoving to get the newest crazy fad toy. I won’t be a part of the madness of bumper to bumper traffic, tempers flaring, middle fingers flying, car horns blaring. I hope not to be, at least. What I can afford to get I will probably get in a single trip. There won’t be as much disposable income over this way for any of that other crazy crap. Reminds me of a lyric from a song by Everclear called I Will Buy You a New Life… “I hate those people who try to tell you money is the root of all that kills, they have never been poor, they have never had the joy of a welfare Christmas…” Not that there is anything wrong with that, mind you. When I was a kid, Christmas was the only time we got anything special, not including birthdays. I remember waking up on Christmas day to several presents placed at the foot of my bed (the 2-foot tall shiny aluminum Christmas tree just wouldn’t hold presents for 5 kids under it). In our stockings were oranges, candy, nuts, and small toys. The presents were mostly things we needed, like socks or a new belt. Sure there were toys, but not expensive ones. A Tonka toy truck with a GI Joe driver, an AM radio that you powered by inserting probes into a potato or orange (pretty neat, that one!). Sure, disappointments happened, but that was and is life.

I do believe that my kids understand. My daughter really shows her maturity in that matter. She knows the deal. My son, well, he is getting there, but has a long way to go. I want them to have a good Christmas, I really do. I want them to have some things that they want. I remember what it was like to really want something under that tree. Even today, I want things too. But I also want them to understand that getting what they need trumps getting what they want. You know, the difference between today and way-back when is that then, I had no clue about being poor. I was just a kid. I was rich. I had everything I needed given to me. I didn’t have to work to pay for things that were truly needed. I didn’t know where things came from; I just knew that hey, new shoes were on my feet, clothes without holes were in my dresser, plates of food were put in front of me at mealtimes. I had no clue that Grandma didn’t get her money from a job. I did know that we sold oranges from the grove and eggs from the henhouse, but I was clueless that the money from that surely wasn’t supporting five kids and sending them to private school as well. I had no clue that we were “this close” to poverty. Today…being a grown up (yes, I am a grown up, believe it or not) lets you in on the secrets unknown to children. Money isn’t free. There isn’t a tree in the back yard that sprouts twenties and fifties. It takes hours of work to get that action figure to play with. And even more hours of work to keep the electricity and water from being cut off and a roof with four walls to protect you from the elements.

I started off on a rant here, didn’t I? Let me get back to it...well, sort of. I made someone at Wal Mart laugh the other day. I had just paid for my things and was picking up my sacks of groceries to carry out. The checkout dude told me thanks and to “come again”. I had been hearing Christmas songs while shopping and actually had “Silver Bells” ringing in my head. My eyes were still blinded by the glittery tinsel and ornaments in the newly stocked Holiday section (which, up until a few weeks ago was the outdoor section). Still in a Jolly haze, and transformed into an elf for the time being, I blurted out, “Merry Christmas!” He looked at me like I was crazy, and then understood. He shook his head and laughed, then said, “Yeah, I know.”

Let the holidays come. Let them come in their own time. I see no need to rush them in. They will come soon enough, with sleigh bells ringing, age-old specials on TV, cakes of fruit, nogs of egg, and shiny noses leading the way through fog as “thick as pea soup”…or even as thick as “jelly brains”. Bring it on, Santa. Just give me a minute though…

Purposefully Insignificant

My ego is only the size of a paper clip. Usually it is bigger than that, especially when I feel like I am worth something, which is a good percent of the time, but today, after sitting several hours with other people who have done “wrong”, I felt no bigger than a small piece of wire designed to hold papers together. I was in a place where I really don’t ever want to be, in a place where when I have been there, even for something that is considered “doing my civic duty”, I just don’t want to be there. This place is the courthouse. It doesn’t matter what courthouse, any one will do, but this time I was in the Chattanooga City Courtroom of Judge Russell Bean.

I was there because I was in an accident in September. It was simply that, an accident. I didn’t see the person in my right-hand lane, and pulled over on them, causing damage to both mine and his vehicle. No one was hurt, thank goodness, but I was cited for “cutting in” and it being a citation that was not one I could simply pay, I had to appear in court. Like I said, I hate going to court. The only other time I had to appear in court was nearly 10 years ago for a simple misdemeanor. Long story, but a little puissant town in eastern Tennessee conducted a money making roadblock that netted them quite a purse that weekend, which ended up with me “donating” over $500 to them, and putting a misdemeanor charge on my record. No big deal, but I still hated going.

Today, I had to sit and listen as person after person went up before the judge to explain what had happened and then await judgment. Now, I understand that a judge doesn’t become a judge from being stupid. They are where they are because usually they have earned that position and that respect. But I have sat in for jury duty, and even sat in the back of a few trials just to see what went on. I have seen judges hand down sentences with swiftness and seen plaintiffs try and talk their way out of things where I am thinking “You are so guilty, why even bother?” I have also seen judges act like they have never done wrong and try to make those people standing in front of them the size of, well…the size of paper clips.

Today, Judge Bean was calm and cool. Most of the people appearing before him were young drivers, and most of them had been cited for following too closely and for rear-end collisions. Most of them got off with warnings and driver’s education classes. I got to see them explain their situations and I was able to learn from observing more of what I would expect when it was my turn to be standing where they were. It came down to what ended up being the person ahead of me who was next. He had clipped another person (who was also there on their own behalf) who was in the middle of a right-hand turn. They had started making their turn; he had gotten impatient and tried to go around them, when they had to stop to let someone else get out of their way before continuing on in their turn. He ended up scraping the corner of their vehicle and busting out a tail light. Judge Bean recognized him as being in front of him earlier in the year. He had reduced the sentence of speeding down to keep points off of his license that time. This time his mercy was not as lenient. The plaintiff ended up having to pay the full fine plus court costs.

Then it was my turn. They called my name, and I made my way up in front of the judge. I had been slowly getting myself ready the whole time I had been waiting there. I saw how he had made judgments and how he was giving people second chances, especially if they had never had been cited before. This is where I felt like I would be given a second chance as well. Aside from the little money making incident nearly 10 years ago, I had never been issued a citation for any traffic incident. Even so, standing before him, my heart was pounding. I didn’t want to be there, I was nervous as hell, but I had everything in order. I had proof of insurance, a statement that showed how the other party had been satisfied, and any other papers I thought I might need all held together with a little paper clip.

I was nervous, that’s for sure. But it really was for nothing. He asked if I had any other citations and I told him that I had never even gotten a simple parking ticket. His assistant on her computer re-affirmed the fact that I didn’t have a record. He seconded the fact and set aside my fine for six months good behavior, plus court costs. Then he did what I thought he might do. Assume something. He said that I had a good driving record, but that I must have been dodging bullets for all these years. I gritted my teeth and bit my tongue. I have most certainly not been dodging bullets for my whole driving life. I am a good driver. I haven’t had “safe driver” on my driver’s license for decades for being a bad driver. I don’t have low insurance rates for not being a careful driver. I drive a vintage vehicle which I prize and most certainly don’t want to damage, much less hurt someone else’s car with it. I drive with my headlights on even in the daytime just so the other idiots driving can see me as well as I can see them. All these thoughts were running through my head, but I bit my tongue and felt myself shrinking and curling up. I held my thoughts inside my head, thanked him, gathered up my papers and made my way out. I looked at the paper clip holding my papers together and thought, “Hi. Now I know how you feel. You are a good piece of work. You have a purpose, but you are small and insignificant. Your shape is such that is designed for the purpose you are made for, but you are forced into that shape by something bigger and stronger than you are. You are nothing.”

Even though my fine was dropped and even my court costs deferred for a period of time, I was irked that I was made to feel like I was lucky enough to have been “not caught” for all these years. That I have been driving like a maniac and finally brought to justice. I am not a bad driver. I know that. The judge does not. He does not live my life. But in the same respect, I don’t live his either. I don’t have to sit up there and listen to every Sally Sobstory and Harry Hardluck try to talk their way out of situations where they are obviously in the wrong. I don’t have to throw decisions at people while not knowing their situations in life at the moment. I don’t envy those that do. It has to be a hard job.

Even back nearly ten years ago, at the time when I donated that money to a little town in eastern Tennessee, I knew that the police officer that was driving me to the holding center was only doing his job. The one behind the desk recording the paperwork was only doing his job. The one taking the pictures for the “mug shot” was only doing his job. There were bigger, stronger, jumbo-sized paper clips above them, and most certainly smaller, weaker mini-paper clips beneath them. Each one did what they were supposed to do.

I got back to my bus; my poor damaged bus, and sat in it for a while before starting him up and driving home. I sat in there thinking about how we all have a purpose in life, whether it is handing down judgments on people, enforcing the rules that we have created, or abiding by those rules in order to avoid having judgment handed down. I ran my finger over the shape of that paper clip and felt just like it. Bent out of shape, small and insignificant, but doing what I was designed to do. Do my job, hold things together (loves, life, family, jobs, mentor) and be proud to serve my purpose. I may not be the all important judge that most likely earned that position. I may not be the police officer that makes sure that the rules that are in place are followed. But I am the person who does what I do and I try to do that to the best of my ability, the best way that I see fit, the way that I know how. And I am going to keep on doing just that. Maybe one day I will be the size of a jumbo paper clip instead of just a small one.

Grasping at Stars

The sky is dark. The lights of my bus reflect on those reflective bumps they put on the road to show the edges and middle lines (so thankful they are on this back road to my house…it is so dark out here). I’m almost home. Up in the sky are the stars. Earlier, the moon was hovering above the tree line, just a reddish sliver looking like an abnormally huge comma. I know, the stars have always been there, I’ve seen them before, and I’m sure to see them again. They aren’t going anywhere. Unlike lots of things in life, they will be there for a long time. They’ll be there long after you and I are gone. They are everlasting. Most places, the light pollution is so bad that the stars are these dim dots trying to shine through the haze rising from the horizon to the middle of the sky, but tonight, out here in the middle of nowhere, and especially looking east towards the start of the Smoky Mountains, I saw them as bright dots against a blue-black background, as pinpoints of light through a dark canvas. They were so bright, so much bigger than I remember, that I thought I could almost reach up and grab one, take it and hold it in my hand as a light in the dark, a source of warmth in this cold place of desperation, comfort in this evil world of despair. I thought I could reach for a star, but it is impossible; it is something I can never have.

The past few days have been days of darkness. The sun has shone brightly; the weather has been perfect, warm in fact. The nights have been a little chilly, but not as cold as it has been. But the bright sun and the nice weather have done nothing to bust through this feeling of loneliness that has clouded my heart like a cold, damp fog. What is wrong with me? Why do I feel this way after so many days of feeling like things have gotten better? I still am reeling financially. That will take a while to rise above. But I am rising, that I feel. I have friends that are there for me. I haven’t heard from some in a while, so when some of the “old-school” friends contacted me in the past few weeks, I was almost shocked. Some hadn’t even heard of what is going on in my life now. Some didn’t even know of my Great and Terrible D. But each and every one of them had the same words for me; “You can call me anytime. Anything you need, I’ll be there”. Of course that felt great.

Emotionally, I am a train wreck. I have had and lost so many times. I am tired of it. Just when I think that I have found something that I can hold onto, something that will last for more than just a few weeks, something that will warm this heart of stone, fingertips just inches from that star…out the window it goes. I like my job, but I’m tired of having to go in on my day off just to live, just to have the money needed for the things I need, let alone the things I want. On Friday, I was there; feeling like the world was against me, feeling all alone all over again. I was folding some cleaning rags from the dryer and I just couldn’t hold back the emotion that had been pushing itself out all morning. I tried to hold back the waterworks, but I just couldn’t. I am a man, for crying out loud. Men aren’t supposed to show this kind of emotion. But there I was, with red and watery eyes and hoping no one would walk in and see me that way. And someone did. Luckily, it was someone who is going through her own personal hell, so to see me that way was ok…I had seen her that way too.

I spent a lot of time by myself this weekend. I had hoped to spend a part of it with somebody, someone who I have grown to like a whole lot. But I understand partly of why I couldn’t. I am not one to stand in the way of someone and their time with family, their time with friends, their time at work, and their time alone. I can’t make someone be with me, this I know. Time is everything…time is nothing. I know that time doesn’t stand still. It keeps on ticking away, pushing the future into the present, making the present become the past. I don’t want to be a part of this special person’s past. I want to be a part of her present, a part of her future…but in doing so, I will become a part of her past…weird how that turns out, huh? I am patient. I can wait as long as it takes for time to pass and more time to be created for togetherness. It can’t be only something that I want; it has to come from both sides. So, if the stars that I try to reach align themselves, if the mirror reflects the same image I am looking for, if and only what if…if that happens, I want her to know that I am right here, exactly where I was and need to be. You hear me?

Grabbing for stars. The unreachable heights that no one can attain. Reaching out for something that I can never have. Reminds me of a Nine Inch Nails song. The song is pretty soft, for a song by a band that has dark lyrics and carries the label of “industrial” music. I’ve always liked them. I haven’t listened to them much lately, but they are on my computer, and a song pops up every now and then while iTunes randomly plays whatever song is next…

Something I Can Never Have – Nine Inch Nails

i still recall the taste of your tears

echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears

my favorite dreams of you still wash ashore

scraping through my head 'till i don't want to sleep anymore

come on tell me

make this all go away

you make this all go away

i'm down to just one thing and i'm starting to scare myself

make this all go away

you make this all go away

i just want something

i just want something i can never have

you always were the one to show me how

back then i couldn't do the things that i can do now

this is slowly taking me apart

grey would be the color if i had a heart

i just want something i can never have

in this place it seems like such a shame

though it all looks different now, i know it's still the same

everywhere i look you're all i see

just a fading fucking reminder of who i used to be

come on tell me

make this all go away

you make this all go away

i'm down to just one thing and i'm starting to scare myself

make this all go away

you make this all go away

i just want something

i just want something i can never have

think i know what you meant

that night on my bed

still picking at this scab

i wish you were dead

you sweat and perry ellis

just stains on my sheets

Not all the lyrics, mind you, pertain to my mood (and oh, so not the “I wish you were dead” ones…don’t wish that on anyone) but the whole “something I can never have” speaks to me. I know all about that. Like the person in the movie whose fingers are just touching the tip of the keys to get them out of the cell they are trapped in, touching them, moving them with fingertips and pushing them further away with every attempt…that I know about.

Never will I be able to reach those stars. They are just too far away. Now, the moon, though…it’s a little closer. I wonder…I wonder if I get my step ladder…hmmm