Far From Here

There are times that just descend, when I project myself out towards the west coast.  Usually it’s on a cloudy day, like today. But then, there have been times when I'm walking to my car after shopping and I'd pretend I was in Newport, or a sunset would have me near Laguna, on the beach even.  Sometimes, its the sounds or smells of people around me that spurs a memory of the places I've known, or grown up near.  What I'm saying is, its never the same situation; it just  happens.  I'd wonder about a girl I knew, what she’s doing at the moment, whose in her life. It'd be a sudden missing piece I needed to know the details.  I'd wear those possibilities as if I were writing a script. I'd wonder, how much forced laughter would be used to gloss over awkward times when no one knew what to do next?; like here. Things that really had no bearing on what I was doing at the moment. 

   The busy was palatable in Southern California.  Everyone seemed to have it.  It was like suddenly noticing the frequency of tattoos on the limbs of people you passed on the street; so many people rushing around in haste; in pantomime of important.  Then another notion kidnapped my attention: The word important. 

  I remembered that was the word earlier in the morning that had eluded me.  I make myself promises to check out the meanings of words that happen to sprout out of nowhere when I'm talking to myself.  I've noticed, I’m prone to explore the meanings of words I hear every day; so that I'll have more clarity. I take so much for granted; I notice it’s a shared confusion around me. We use words to convey our thoughts and feelings under the assumption that everyone shares the same definition for words.  That's totally bogus, so we all flounder around in a paranoid thrashing around between extremes of not knowing that we've been heard, to even being understood  if we had been listened to. 

   But back to this word, important. 

I allowed my mind to linger on that word and noticed how hard people try to be important.  Covertly most of the time, since rarely would anyone admit they were feeling insecure or inferior.  And never mind the new age premise of everything changes, which of course it does, so that even when we feel insignificant or unworthy, its only for such a short span of seconds do we really need to make a big deal out of it?  Is feeling that way, I have to laugh, so important?  So, then we go about manipulating situations so suddenly we can be the deciding ingredient, crossroads of activity, then we're the ones sought out and can dispel this whisper of our former shadowy analysis of being nothing or a nobody.

  I had a dream where I was with the military.  I wasn't actually in the military, but I was someone important.  They gave me a helmet to wear and everyone I met mentioned how cool it looked on me.  I knew they were just sucking up, the fit was horrible, it kept sliding over my eyes and blocking my vision.  But its common to see that when meeting someone important; its a desperate act of finding something to offer that they might find interesting; an effort to establish some kind of report.  The camp was shelled by enemy mortars, a lot.  I stood in a cluster of soldiers and watched tents flying up in dusty debris.   While that was happening, as dreams are not constrained by time or sequence of events, I somehow knew that someone had been taken prisoner.  They tortured him to death. I watched the medic examine the body uttering in distress, "Oh no, Oh no" There were holes in the back of the corpse neck, I could see tendrils of muscle and nerve, I also noticed where the ear had been torn off, as well as other nasty digging things had been done by the hole bored into the crevice of his skull.  It was amazingly free of blood, but perhaps I'm squeamish in my dreams.  What a way to go, I recall thinking, screaming in pain. 

   I was then suddenly escorting a young soldier to a mental health trailer.  He had rebelled and cussed out his superiors.  For some reason I was responsible for making sure someone talked to him. I met an attractive woman counselor.  Not the headliner beauty of a movie showcase, but an easy on the eyes sort of beauty.  Her honey brown hair was pulled back, her face open, clean, well proportioned eyes that were welcoming.  The soft approachable look of a person who'd be working in the field of calming war stressed soldiers.  Her manner was direct, but not curt. She asks intelligent questions, I admired her professional air; she was skilled at not wasting time without being rude.  She was on the case, driving toward the heart of his affliction. As she asked her question she’d look straight into me, I felt increasing tremors shutter throughout me each time she’d glace from him, then back to me, lingering longer in our gaze. I wanted to stay there in her eyes, but it was obvious she’d work to do with this young man; I had no recourse but to smile and try to disengaged from the gravity of the notion that she was as powerfully attracted to me as I was to her. I shuffled towards my departure, despite her inviting stares that seemed to plead for me to stay. I had to leave her; leave me, to my thoughts of holding her in my arms while gently gliding into our first kiss that would echo over our combined remaining life.  Such are the romantic fantasies in dreams; you never see it coming.  

   I wonder how often it plays out that way?  Opened to a possibility, but for one reason or another the moment passes; the opportunity evaporates.  Be it fear of intimacy, or sensing of a threat; perhaps even fulfilled conditional promise necessary in order to get close; It doesn't matter, there wasn't time, and time is an illusion; certainly when it comes to possibilities of fit.  There’s a real affliction too. Continuing to play with those past details in the ‘what if’ afterglow time. 

   Tomorrow they'd be on your doorstep and you'd have to face the wrenching reality.  After all that invested chewed over options you still have to face the fact that you're no longer interested. Introduction to the real; everything changes, even your taste. Was a time I'd say all of that was a frigging waste of effort.  Now I see it differently.  I see it now as seeking evidence to support our conclusions. It'd be all that much sadder if we didn't get there; instead continued to lament, or regret our past choices. 

  I think it’s honing the method of being happy with values rather then in obtaining measurable results.  Since quality is a state of honoring those values, then being true to yourself while realizing it’s your way of becoming aware; of being present any of the time. It’s the whole value in any quest.  Well then, I guess it’s all a question of how much dreaming is necessary before we wake up?  It's nothing extraordinary, I do it all the time. Just like everybody else.