Dreams, Awake & Sleeping


Six AM. I drink whiskey from a cup called ‘DREAM’, a gift from a beautiful woman who knows me at least well enough to know that, and more.  A dreamer, a dream weaver, dreamcatcher. She seems to like this about me now, but there have been those in the past who did as well at first. At first.

Still, just as the others could not be compared to any previous, she cannot be. This is what I know, what I have learned if anything is to not only survive, but thrive. Grow. Teach. Be patient. Above all, keep who you have become but be open to who you could be. Don’t look for those who you need in order to dance, open yourself to find your own. You cannot depend on anyone to let them be who you are, for what is the cost if they spin away?

The love remains. If it was honest and true, the love will always stay, even if they don’t.

Some people tend to judge the quality of a relationship by time. The longer, the better. While in some relationships this may undeniably be the case, it is not by any means the rule. Don’t trust me, remember and realize that I speak the truth. It is not the comfortable which makes us grow, it is the learning who we are. Sometimes that involves vast amounts of sorrow and vows to never love again, but ultimately we are creatures of love. Creatures that sometimes find it in everyone, sometimes take a lifetime to find that we are perfectly happy when we find we love ourselves. Oddly enough it is seemingly always that when we allow being alone that someone comes into our lives…

Show me your soul and I will show you mine… if you’re patient. It has been kept in hiding for so long, so many sacrifices to simply stay alive, to breathe another day, to be able to continue to dream.  Many sacrifices and countless triumphs, but I am only becoming again. I don’t know who I will be this time, yet still who I was is still somewhere in me, and I continue to shine. It is the people I call friends and the dreams of who I desire to be that keep me alive, keep me fighting. I have forever in front of me.

But deep inside of me there is a place that needs solitude. It is a sanctuary built to weather storms, to look up at the sky in silence and listen to the crack of the lightning, the roll of the thunder. It is a place to dance naked and alone in the rain and see all that is around me; see that I am everything around me. Let me have my sanctuary, and I will always come back to you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Lion, The Giraffe, and Meredith (…a dream…)


It was a strange dream, one for the books. I awoke remembering almost every detail:

Somehow (a needless word for a dream) Meredith & I were at the house that I grew up in, looking for something to bring to a shindig that Zac was having at his home with KFC and Pabst. Why Pabst? I don’t know. It makes even less sense than KFC. We were talking about a video she shared on FaceBook that was a song redone by….. jeebus, by Culture Club, but insanely dark. The video was some crazy thing where towards the end a woman in it seemed to rip open her head and jump out of the screen at you, very much like the videos that people share that you stare at a spot or something and some ghoul suddenly appears, knocking you back in your chair…

I was looking for a cassette that Aleph made for me about 23 years ago (and I still have, labeled as a name he isn’t anymore – ‘A  ____ Tape’, as I thought that who would like it… when suddenly at the ground-level window to my room, there appeared the heads of a giraffe and a female lion poking in and checking things out. I wanted to feed them something, so I looked around and all I could find were some pretzels, which they seemed to appreciate and like.

Then, a pickup truck, armored in the way you just know things are in a dream and with small protected windows, drove up the incline of my street shooting what seemed to be compression grenades in the air and spraying a slightly burning fluid/acid from it, trying to get all of the wild animals away, as the people in the pickup were responsible for their escape. While this was happening I began freaking out a bit as I didn’t know where Ruby was and I didn’t want her to be alone, afraid, and running off. I ran out the back door of my house and down the hill to the truck, found a long heavy bar and tried to break the driver side window of the truck, which I couldn’t break. I wanted to find out what was happening.

The truck started driving back up my hill spraying the burning fluid, and I chased it up to my house. It kept going and I went inside where Ruby was thankfully safe with Mer. We were trying to figure out why there were a giraffe and lion at my window, and I remember at one time there was a tiger inside of my room. It liked the pretzels also, but I remember wishing I had more to give it. More pretzels? Sure… but what I really wanted was a big slab of meat to make it happy. After all, how often do you have a tiger eating out of your hand?

It was truly great to see Meredith again, but WHAT THE FUCK IS INSIDE MY HEAD???

Alright, dream people – decipher this one.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~



…and my mind wanders. Quite honestly, it wanders most of the time, but at this hour, when the rest of the City is sleeping and most is silent save for the street sweepers out of my backof thebuildingwindow, it gives me much more of an excuse to ramble.
1 – I miss my tent in The Enchanted Forest. I think of it, Bean, Albert, Baruzula, T and all of the others, human and better, all of the time now, wanting to go back. Wanting to go back to the Grandmother Tree. Back to a strangely complicated simplicity. It was a dance that made sense, all of that empty space and points of  light, just as everything is… us, the Universe. There is no such thing as time. It is all still in my heart as one.

2- I look at pictures of who I was less than two years ago, and remember. I remember and am amazed at the power of the mind, of love, of will. It is not a pleasant thing to look at these, but it reminds me of strength. Is it wrong to inspire myself? Absolutely not, as it is unlikely that I could have done this alone. I try to be strong, stronger every day – but it was love that gave me hope and  the will to live. To live when the thought of giving up was so much more enticing. I have the heart of  a vagabond, a voyager, and that would have been the ultimate journey – but I also love to take you with me in the words I write, and I don’t know if there is WiFi after death. Or laptops. Or fingers.

One day I will, but not any day soon. Hell, I could probably be hit by a bus tomorrow and shake it all off, asking the wreckage “Is THAT all ya got?”

This is why I write my name like I do. I learned about life not through the people who raised me, but in the Sea, swimming, surfing, learning when to bend like a reed and when to fight like hell. I have carried that lesson with me, just as learning when riding a motorcycle with English Don or Steg von Heintz taught me to keep up with the best, or die.

I kept up. I kept up and then some fucking more. I learned how to ride, I learned how to build a bike, and after a few more years… I taught myself to fly.

I fly through words, I escape this pain through love, laughter, and strength. The exact same strength you have inside of you.

What I have lived through is not unique by any means. It is only my life, how I chose to live and learn from it. How I CHOOSE to. I choose to write, and suffer, and learn. I loathe the complacent. I loathe the mundane.

This is a story that is weary and told too many times, but… I was written off as dead. Twice that they know of, more that I do. My Mother made a good person. My Father does not know I exist. YET.

Out of a New Years night they made me, born on a new moon, a dark moon. It is up to me to make it full and beautiful on the horizon.

I leave you with pictures of a man who wouldn’t die and this:

  1. BE the person you love, live the life you dream of, fight like fucking hell for your dreams – and start today. Tomorrow is only an excuse of the tragically complacent.
  2. You are all far stronger than you could ever fucking imagine.

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