In my dreams
I told my wife this morning I wanted to go back to sleep.
It’s not that I’m lazy. I go to bed late and get up early.
The reason I said what I did is because in my dreams I’m never alone.
I don’t remember my dreams, not the subject or what happened. At least, I rarely remember them. There’s one thing I always remember though, especially in the morning.
When I sleep I’m never alone. I’m in groups, with friends, out in the world. It’s great. I know it is. It must be. I actually have real human conversations.
For years I’ve been out here isolated, the only adult in a house of kids. Six years, to be exact. It seems like forever. Human contact in the past six years has been very, very limited.
Off and on I had contact, like when we tried to start the foster care organization. All those friends turned out to be less than friendly. Those dear Christian friends screwed me over bigtime. They were my last contact with the world.
I’ve never been Mr. Personality, of course. For much of my life I’ve had only a few friends. But I used to at least have interaction with humans, grownups, with whom I could talk. These days I might as well live on Mars.
I’d rather live on Mars. Or the Moon. How cool would that be? But I live in a peopled world. I live in a world of different people. I live in a world of Christians, conservatives, rednecks, ordinary thinkers. These people are not bad. They’re just not like me. Even if I went right out my door and struck up conversations with a dozen neighbors it would not work. Their dreams, beliefs, points of view, entertainment choices, are all so incompatible that we would find little to do even if they accepted me as the liberal pacifist Buddhist I am.
So, I don’t go to bed until late and I’m up early and I envy myself for the dreams I have.
Life doesn’t make a damn bit of sense. All my life I was told I should do the right thing. I put everything I had into that. I failed every time. I am the ultimate screw-up. It’s never supposed to matter, though. It always does.
If ever a post is rambling, this is. I haven’t any idea what to do other than just get up every morning and live it like every other morning. Every day promises to be like every other. Quiet.
There is one thing. There are always dreams.
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