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Wake UP!

Wake up. Wake. UP.  Wake up wake up wake up wake up.  I want to wake up.  I don't want to wake up.  I want. I don't want. I WANT to wake up.

Sometimes waking up is a very difficult thing to do.  Sometimes, (often?) it can take a while.  It gets even harder when you don't want to wake up. Not really. I mean, that was a nice dream... even from the wrong end of a really long pipe.

Here's how I've come to see it:  I have this dream that I've had for a pretty long time and, generally speaking, it's the same dream but it changes a little bit every so often.  When I first started dreaming it, I was standing in this really large pipe, you know the kind they put bridges to route a stream or a creek through?  Well, maybe you don't but they're oh... say, 6 feet in diameter.  It's made of corrugated steel so the ridges soon fill up with mud and algae so the footing is soft on the sides where the water flow  is a little sluggish, older kids, too cool to play in the stream anymore, have spray painted the walls... which doesn't work too well since it's pretty moist inside the pipe but, in spite of their attempts to ruin to deface it, the water makes a merry little tune as it rushes through the pipe, under the bridge, out and down a small waterfall created by boulders on the other side and into a pool big enough and deep enough for small fry to swim and children of a certain age to play.  I grew up with one of these.

Anyway, when I first started dreaming the dream, it was like I was standing at the front of the pipe with my toes curled over the lip, water rushing past me pushing at me, pulling... watching, enjoying the dream in a wistful and guilty sort of way. At first, I fought hard against the current and hoped that eventually help would arrive. After all, the dream is a nice one and there's definitely room for company.  As time has flown by, years have passed, things have happened.  Life has happened, the help never came and, when I dream the dream I get farther and farther away from the lip of the pipe, the current has grown stronger, I have grown weaker or, maybe both. Nevertheless, I still dream the dream (whether I really want to or not.. and I don't know for sure any more that I really want to) but my view has degraded as I've fallen further back down the pipe.  I want to fight, get back to the good view. But, it's quickly becoming "not worth the effort," because I have lots of things to do and I've allowed the dream to derail progress far more often than I care to admit.

Even so every so often, I'll fight a little way back toward the entrance to the pipe and my good view of the dream but, over time my desire to fight for that view has dimmed somewhat because, really, the dream?  The dream isn't good for me any more, is it?  I really need to stop doing bad for me things.

It's got to the point that my view of the dream is a tiny, tiny pin prick of light at the end of the tunnel and I'm tired, cold, and wet with stream water, which I realized not too long ago were my own tears. I don't think I can fight my way back to the good view any more.  ANnd yet, I can't seem to let the current take me away just now. Not quite yet but soon.  Very soon and, a part of me hopes that when I do, it'll be just like when I was a kid: I'll turn, go with the flow of the curremt, down the boulders smoothed by years of water flow and children's play and then, I'll get to splash laughing down to the bottom of the pool.

And when I surface?  The dream will be gone and that will be OK.

Nov. 3rd, 2013

surrounded by obsessions
I want to dance.  I want to fill my soul with the music and get lost in it like I used to and not give a damn what anyone else thinks.  I want to move for joy, for heartache, for hope, for loss.  I want to punch and kick at foes, imagined and real, to the beat. I want to stomp to the memory of a happier... and often, sadder time.  I want to feel the bass reverberating through me.  I want so sing along.  But most of all, I want to smile, and sometimes cry, as I move to the music of my past, my present and, my future.

And so I do and I will.  Always.

And now I'm dancing.

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