It is 3:47 AM and I can’t fall back asleep. So I am drinking wine and thinking about the dream I had recently. I feel there are some hidden meanings within it that deserve to be examined. So while my children and wife are sleeping I shall ponder upon it in the moonlight.
So I am walking along in this field. (Why am I always walking in dreams? Can’t I be on some kickass stallion or flying around on a griffin or something?) And suddenly I am holding a shotgun. (I would rather be holding a double bladed battle axe… but I won’t be picky in dreams.) When I see this rabbit start running across the field. I do what any man with a shotgun, alone, in a field, and sees an obviously crazy rabbit running around… I shot it. (Before you judge I have come to the conclusion that this rabbit actually represented the squirrel in my backyard. They are devious creatures and will do anything, even wear rabbit costumes apparently.) I walked up to that rabbit and I found an Easter basket. I started to feel bad. I picked up that basket and found chocolate in it, which I promptly began to eat while walking away. I instantly felt better. (I am really not sure what that ending means…)
So yea… that was my dream. I thinking it means I will be King of the world someday. I am sure of it actually.
Someone once called me a tornado. They said I appeared out of thin air, was immediately everywhere, and then like *that* I would vanish. I think that might be the best description of me. WordPress is great and I enjoy the interaction I have found here, but don’t be surprised if one day I just disappear. It won’t be theatrics or for attention, so don’t get overly concerned. It is simply in my nature and you cannot cage that. I am a tornado.
I neglected you. You sat there inches from water, I let you thirst. You were so close to a clean life. I left you stained, better had you been broken and discarded in the trash below. The trash that even now sits inches from a dying refresher.
I left you as well, laying there sprawled across the sofa. I did not even bother to pick you up. What a shame. You and the others like you lay there still, like bones on an empty battlefield.
And lastly I neglected you. You sat there patiently waiting. Neither tapping your foot or giving me lip, you sat there patient as ever. I was busy, still you sat.
Dishes, laundry, and the trash, my chores I have neglected you. I’m sorry, I blame the blog.
I have never done this before. This should be interested and might give some insight into the “readers” I have here. What religion are you? Care to share?
We drink tears in the morning, to hide the face of shame from those that look to us for guidance. I would never wish upon my children a guide that sees only through the sorrow of a continuous torrent. So I hide those emotions with the coming of the sun and sneer in disdain at the weakness that made me break, if only for a moment.
We drink our tears with coffee, tea, and whatever fills our cup in the morning. The bitterness sweetens stronger than sugar and awakens us faster than pain.
If you could be somewhere else right now where would it be?