Under the Hat

My dream life of the night invaded my day. Normally the dream, like the moon, stars and quiet of the night fades as the intensities of the direct light of day begins. This dream didn’t. Its underlying feeling stayed attached to me coloring all my interactions with the world. The dream was a powerful one. It woke me. In the dream I was on a floating couch with people I know. The couch started to crumble. All of us hung on, but each fell. It was my turn to go. I was sure it was death; the last piece of couch deteriorated under my fingers and I fell too. Yet I didn’t die. I floated up and awoke in a panic at 3:31am. The world was still in the peace of night. My day began and my night came along too as the glasses through which I perceived.

Here Comes the Sun

The summer solstice has passed and the atoms are pulsing faster with the extra energy from the sun. Yesterday, when I drove through downtown Los Angeles, it was a wash in the gold of the light and the yellow basketball jerseys from the Lakers parade. The grit of the city was glittering and all where in an upbeat mood. In the evening, with the sun hanging extra long above the horizon before sunset, people in front of a Target store stood around, with smiles on their faces, hugging puppies. This may be a new form of therapy and it was free, as the sign said, “Free puppies.” I think the summer and winter solstices are points in and out of time where the temporal and eternal merge together if only for a nanosecond.

In a google search I found that "Sol + stice derives from a combination of Latin words meaning "sun" + "to stand still." As the days lengthen, the sun rises higher and higher until it seems to stand still in the sky." I think time on these days stands still too.

Last Week

They seemed like acquaintances, each needing something from each other. She needed someone to hear her as she spoke of her middle age life as a mother and proud accomplishments of her middle school daughter. He was younger than her and he listened. But it seemed like he wanted to sell her something, although he never revealed what that was.

The myth of the cowboy holds strong for me. The Lone Ranger, Rifleman, Clint Eastwood, John Wayne and shooting at a tin can in the desert as a young boy.

Head in the Clouds

I really don’t want life to be that experience of driving the car from A to B and arriving at B not remembering or experiencing the drive. At times it is, but I try to wake up from the dream and see the now which of course is the only time that is. It is where beauty is.

lightning bolts of electricity

The alarm clock in my stomach sends lightning bolts of electricity to wake me from my sleep. 1:32am, the terror of the fear of death again. I get up. I survey the family. They look to be in a deep, peaceful sleep. Hanna’s eyes are moving, REM. Her lips smile: it must be a good dream. Kristie and Julia breathe softly. I need to remember this moment, for this too shall pass. A photograph will not do. I need the memory embedded by drawing lines on a page while observing. I leave the lights off. A few lines in the dark: That’s enough: the terror fades and I can slip back into bed into my own dreams.