The Unlikely Hero/ I Had a Dream About Us.

I used to have an odd sensation as a boy, when things were much more alive than they are now and I was more aware of the simple presence of life’s affirmations and such. There was a place near the Day School where I would hear a radio, and I knew it was just in that area that I would hear random music playing. That went on for about three or four years more or less, I can’t recall, and I assumed that all people would feel or hear that sensation. Even to this very day when I take the girls up to school in the morning, I often look at the place where I would hear “things.”

We often, as dumb adults, think that children or people less fortunate are not so bright, often assuming that they don’t know much, when in fact, they usually are the ones to carry us out of our collective dementia. The unlikely, unlikeable farmer becomes the least likely hero.

I have seen lately some amazingly sad situations in my own community that will befall the unsuspecting toll on our future generations. We are not exempt from frailty. We must expect the unexpected, prepare for the worst battle, cause I seriously feel we can’t make it here in this place anymore. Bad booze, bad coke, bad food, bad thoughts, bad politics, bad money, bad roof, bad truck, bad gas, the list goes on and on.

“Talk to to the corn so there is no misunderstanding, now I place you in the ground and you will grow tall and they shall eat – my family and friends who come from afar…”

I had a dream about us the other night. We were sitting in that beat up old country squire. I can see it as clear as if it were  just yesterday. You said, “I’ve had enough of this small town bullshit. I’m gonna drop out of school. No more. Not staying in school. I’m going out to California, and man it won’t be long – as soon as I get my license.”

As dreams have it, it was surreal. I saw your long hair turn grey and your eyes well up with tears.

“Oh knock it off, Paul,” I laughed “Man, you ain’t even got a car and those rowdy Indian chicks don’t believe a word ya say. They just want yer dangling cigarettes.”

I just let you keep talking cause I hadn’t seen you in a long time and you were beautiful as usual.

Another surreal moment, and we were just us kids in the old Johnson O’mally parking lot, in the dream – giving it all we got.
You gave me the go to hell look and spoke, “You know I hurt way down inside. My divorce will be final along about 27th of the month. Let’s just take the station wagon and head for Mexico from the Sonora way…how about it?”

I laughed out loud cause you were about ten years old talking all deep. You spoke, “Ya know we could really have it all. This shit hole town is gonna kill us both without any remorse. We’re both gonna be a sad short movie.”

My laughter woke me up and in the groggy darkness, I ended the dream. I watched you looking back at me with a look  like you were ready to fight a fence post if it leaned wrong. Although you were an older hard worked man, your hair a bit gray and not as skinny, you carried a post hole digger and maybe were not so free.

My dream shifted to a girl I love and she sat on my lap. It was perfect to finally touch her. We were both happy as she sat on my lap whispering, “You haven’t worked in Cheyenne in over a month..” Surreal man…

Through her wild long hair I smiled at Paul and told him I was hers and she was mine. In your apparition and hazy figments of a ghostly figure, you changed again to when you were 18 and beautiful. You smiled at me as I kissed my girl. “Let’s go to the Drive-In sometime..” you said and walked away..

I used to hear music in my head when I was boy. Now I only hear ringing – missing an unlikely hero of a ghost walking past the old barns and fences, kicking up dust along  the beer can, cigarette butt, lined road…

Dream Deep Dream Well..


14 thoughts on “The Unlikely Hero/ I Had a Dream About Us.”

  1. May you have a blessed morning Robert,

    One day recently, I awoke from a dream where I was watching you practice on stage for a presentation. It was more “Academia” rather than “Rock Concert.” It was followed by you instructing a table full of people in an artistic craft. You were closer to your actual age in this dream, unlike a past dream where you were much older.

    Another kind of dream is one of hopes for the future. I believe if enough of us see a better future, we can work together for that brighter day. Let us inspire the children to see the sacred as part of everyday life. The language is important for the youth to learn. May they honor the corn, dance, and cotton. May the next generations keep the tradition of running for it may be needed if storms take out electricity, runners might need to get messages to distant places.

    May they see wisdom to turn away from overindulgence, especially from alcohol, hate, and harmful drugs. May they realize how much success they can have if they use their creativity to connect with mother earth and find their purpose or craft. May the children follow what Po’Pay taught about growing food, it can set us free. One way to give us self sufficiency. If there is to be less rain than in times past, maybe the corn maiden will show new ways for having water when it is needed. Our dreams can point the way. Our dreams can be our guide now.

    In a town where I used to live, every spring there would be “spring clean up” where people pick up garbage that winter storms had blown around. The city dump would accept things for free that it normally charged for (unusable tires, broken or worn out furniture, water heaters etc) When I visit Taos, I would like to volunteer with the people to help clean up the cigarette butts, empty cans, and other garbage.

    I used to live in a place where Natives and other races lived among each other, went to the same schools,and worked together. I was honored to be in a group learning one of the three local native languages. Now in that town, there is only one elder left who learned that language before he learned English.

    He remembers me from when he and my mother worked together in a school. He is in his early 90’s. I was honored to speak to him in his first language, a language was only spoken. They had no words for good bye, as they believe that we will see each other again, if not in this lifetime then in another. One of their parting phrases translates to “May people speak well of you” and they say, “Until I see you again.”

    In honor, love, and respect,


  3. Your gift of eloquent writing is always
    A delight and insight to your intelligence
    Thanks for ‘painting’ an awesome picture
    With words. Thank you Robert !

  4. I have the same dream every year ’bout this time…

    Now at the place that my father asked me to spread his ashes, with the sun just starting to break though the clouds, I perform the last, and the hardest, part of the ritual. Pulling the flask from the saddlebag, I pour the single-malt Scotch into two shot glasses. Then, putting one on the ground, I leave it there, and down the contents of the other hard and fast. “I love you, Dad.” I say that, and only that, always, knowing it says it all as the occasional tear rolls down my cheek. After that I get back on the bike, fire it up just like every year, and head back home, in no particular hurry now, running the back roads, knowing somehow that it is just Dad and I riding together.

    In that space on the way back, I find myself thinking that although my life has so far been a long and winding one, one of an unconventional manner to say the least, I truly am a very fortunate man. This life, with all its twists and turns, is not one that I would have willingly chosen. But it has been, and continues to be, an adventure.

    … And then I wake up.

    In the stillness of those particular mornings, I dance, play the flute and sing, knowing, and grateful that my father is forever with me…


  5. 🙂 Dreams can be so wired… I woke up from a dream this morninmy dad who had passed away few years ago. Left me with a big boat that I had moved on to and he had left me with a house as well he had signed over the papers to me. Didn’t want to wake up from that dream but it was good that dad was thinking about me.

  6. All we have to do is breathe. Why not do it well, with intention to nourish our selves with pure life giving oxygen.

    Need we speak so much? Silent, breathing, being.

  7. Sad dream, brother….sad dream. Reached all the way out here to San Diego and ‘touched’ me with that sadness. You know, I genuinely admire how you can touch people with your music. I can always feel Creator ‘speaking’ in your music…no matter what you’re playing. I guess I forget…because I don’t really know you…that you’re a human being…susceptible to visit of ghosts and able to see the once-vibrant places of our youth dying while while they’re still alive.

  8. Memories the moments that form us, that mold us or bend us. Some so joyful we never want to let go of them, others twisted and then those that we never want to relive or remember. Each one has left its mark on each and everyone of us. Sometimes I wonder, if only I could go back and relive or change the past. But honestly, it made me who a
    I am! Thanks for being you and sharing glimpses of your past and present with those of us, you do not even know! May each day bring you joyful memories, to fill your heart with pure joy and love! That which you share so freely with others.
    With love and respect to you, your family and all of Taos Pueblo!

  9. Robert, on my city tours I say, ” A pueblo friend says there is one word to describe his culture: ‘corn’ ” people like that–its succinct and really tells them about the importance of that plant. Best, John

  10. Robert,Your words may sound harsh but,they are the truth in reality.I was in Mexican Waters Az.on the way home from doing a performance of American Indian flute playing on the floor of Canyon de Chelley with the wishes of some of the Navajo people.Also played your Medicine Man Ocarina made by Uncle Tony(RIP).Anyway I ran into and befriended an old Navajo man down the same old road,followed by the same rez dogs and across the United States bridge.OK,joking is over.He confided in me and told me he was a Holy Man and I had no reason not to believe.He said the same things you just quoted.We are at the end of our cycle,so to speak.Mother Earth was raped over and over again and never apologized to.The greed among men is out of control,you live in the same neighbor hood and never really know who the hell your neighbors are anymore.Its bad,very bad and I pray my grandsons somehow learn to survive it.I know I won’t but, do I really want to live in a world of confusion,hatred,crooked govt.,dope,meth.Sounds like a day in Heaven to me doesn’t it.Don’t think your wrong in thinking this way.I know it is negative thinking but,every fuckin’ day its something new that comes up.By the way as the old Navajo man got up and began walking away he slowly,very slowly just disappeared in mid air!!!!! I’ll never forget it.

  11. Roberto,
    Years ago after I divorced, an old friend and I were walking to the river while he chauntered on & on about wanting a divorce. I growled at him “you’re only talking about divorce because you don’t know how hard it is”. Although I’d made the right decision, the toll was considerable on my family and I wished to spare him that.
    Years later, two of the finest men I know were trapping themselves in loveless, lifeless marriages. Each married to women who were purposefully destroying them – one of them even putting up with being physically abused. I yelled at each of them ‘DIVORCE!’
    Tonight, I’m reminded of what Buddha said, ‘Believe nothing oh monks, unless you yourself have found it to be true. ‘
    Thank you for reaching out to so many,
    p.s. …like you were ready to fight a fence post if it leaned wrong. Nice writing, very nice.

  12. Once again, Thank you for the wonderfully made being you are….Sometimes dreams can be harsh, yes, but reality can be even harsher…

    Again, I so enjoy your thoughts, music, and your wonderful insight…Stay real, my friend…

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