Does the last dream wake me because it is so ridiculously bizarre, or is it something else which wakens—and the dream refuses to release its prisoner? It’s been a while since any dream featured anything worth lingering, a special place, or a special person, whose presence could make the dream better than the reality. And she sure as hell isn’t coming back.
I get up in the morning at 4 or 5 A.M. and walk like Captain Jack Sparrow to the kitchen, needing coffee, but orange juice comes first—and my German shepherd knows it will be a while before he goes out the back door with his treats. First prepare food for two cats hanging around my truck in the driveway. Coffee. Then out the back door for my morning cigarette, with shepherd and his treats.
We have an alpha-agreement. Often he goes out the door first, despite proper custom, because he is excited, or, usually he thinks it his job to protect me outside. Going in, he always lets me enter first.
Some things are the way they should be in life. Mornings are a time for clarity, sobriety, strategic intentions, knowing that in the evening the enemies will attack, as they always do.
Before they begin their assaults, however, it will be a time to feed dog, cats, birds, squirrels, fish, turtles, and ducks. A time to think of a cabin somewhere: But this is my cabin, and it’s a mess, and no one is going to come and clean when I leave. No one will feed my friends. They need me. So, leaving is impossible, especially when there is no where to go to change the scenery for a heart.
Therefore, dreams are not critical. Memories only last a few seconds. Summer’s heat and storms soon will give way to a north wind. Seasons, like days and memories, come and go.
Is there anything which lasts forever? A one drink question—the questions get more difficult after two. But the answers are always the same…*
“…it’s time to close the shutters / time to go inside…”
*I’m a writer/author. No worries, mate. Just practicing scenes.