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..