Thursday, January 12, 2012


I am drained. I have had these dreams. Vivid dreams that last the entire night. I wake up and the only thing that stays with me are emotions and flashes.

A green hill, deep fog. Suddenly I am chased and my heart beats quickly. I have a six-shooter gun but it’s a pop-cap gun. I wander into a home I knew at some time in my youth. I see the family; interact as if I had never left. The same familiarity, the same comfort. But I don’t recognize the people and I don’t remember their names. But I speak and I answer every question correctly. I trust my gut but not my mind.

I am on an enormous boat. It is full of cots and people my age. I am in seventh grade and I am traveling to escape something. I see a classmate. She dances and asks me to join her. I dance with her. “I never knew you were so much fun.”

“I never knew you were,” she replies. My dreams are a fragment of a life never lived. Interactions never had, and a world never seen. I do not mourn its absence from my life. Life is a series of enjoined threads woven into a fabric. I’ll never explore the entirety of the fabric. I choose to follow one errant thread after another.

I do not regret the path not taken. I do not miss it.

But I do wonder about it; my life if...I get that to some degree in my dreams. I follow threads into a different fabric and pattern. I follow them to a different point. And I suppose they all are as nonsensical as dreams. My life included.

I am drained. But I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I don’t regret my life but there are things I could have done better. I could have been a better person. I want to be a better person. I am not very good at doing that when I don’t feel safe. I lash out; I become cynical and mean; I don’t have an excuse.

Being a better person is a full-time commitment and often we fail. In fact, I believe it is a series of failures. Success in this instance is merely the lack of failure. I guess that’s ok with me.