I'm going to try to describe dreams. Not of the kind defined on a Pto. Vallarta beach with the word resort attached after a magical font type writes D.R.E.A.M.s (Resort). It's also not of the kind of dreams that you speak of in the "I have a dream..." style of thinking, the type that changes nations or at the very least our own personal sphere of influence (which may or may not be the same thing depending on how many of you read my blog, or follow the Mexican president's twitter account).
Dreams of the kind that wake you up with a sudden start (as you die if we are to believe Inception; and I do, down to the very fact that the initials of each of the main characters spell the word Dream). Dreams that you live through, asleep or awake and that you rarely transcribe not for fear of what they mean but because you struggle to recall the simples detail, because you find yourself in the middle without certitude of what the head or the tail of that particular snake is. The kind where you are as prone to live a half-remembered thought with a dash of fantasy as you are to imagine yourself sitting at the edge of your own bed contemplating your sleeping self.
So picture real life - all suits and ties and dark tones and hues with a single bombshell that draws attention only from those willing to take a moment to break their intent conversation/staring fight with the piece of ground one yard away from their feet to take in the air of faint superiority and confidence that masks the possibility of a truly wondrous creature.
That's my average day.
Lilium inter spinas.
I live in a world of fantasy where I have been blessed with friends with jobs and life's that are constantly searching for meaning and spirit. Where the term value-added is more than the lingo dropped during a consultant presentation and excel stands for both a program and a quality we hope to achieve in all our activities.
Where the horrors of the sinister lurk at just the right distance to afford us denial. Where we face truth only when it is sweet and drinkable (like Coors! or is Bud Light! Which one has the little ventilation marketing ploy?).
But when you walk around and see people with the flu because they haven't gotten their shot or dealing with their allergies either by sniffling or eating honey because medicine is not really necessary you start to wonder. And what that might be is whether or not we have the right amount of perspective. Or it could just be that the nightmare you're currently in is only a multi-million person city with hundreds of thousands running around with masks and fake (90% of the time) knifes and they could either treat or kill you.
And yes, we're back to discombobulated thought.
But in my previous life I never knew anyone allergic to anything that wasn't manageable. I've always been allergic to cats and I've always lived with them. I always thought shots were the things you either took at the bar, got from the doctor or used to have a pop off in the station. Not to avoid a cold. And lines were a suggestion for those willing to wait.
I'll admit the last one actually serves a purpose.
And a(non) fiction turns to reality. Or otherwise and vice-versa.
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