not the fault of the dream but the dreamer

The past’s been mentioned and so has the now. What shall be of tomorrow? Some of us have the next year planned, a ten-year outline, or some time structured towards a final destination. These plans can be based on the reality of restrictions, others can be based on impossible dreams. Only the impossible isn’t always so, as long as you take baby steps.

Poke at me and ask “What of your dreams?
Am you on some journey towards achieving a passion?”

Alas, I am free-floating in a gravity-filled space. Heavy with a dreamless destination.

I’ve spied some gaudy shirts that mention midgets, computers, WOW, and tits as hard-on motivations… while you can put these on some people’s lists mine doesn’t include my own B.A. degree as one of them. Over a year ago, I graduated and have been sitting on my ass ever since (except for the occasional shuffles down the driveway).

Every Christmas, my mother gifts a new ornament in our stockings. Last year was a fitting selection. My boyfriend, who already has marvelous dreams of his own got “Believe.” My brother, whom is married and had an one year old daughter at the time, received “Love.” My mother whom knows me well and hopes that I open my heart to more possibilities and desires, bestowed upon me, “Dream.” Still, there are no signs of R.E.M. motions these days.

Sure, I have dreams of traveling, living well, seeing new things, marveling about them, seeing the successes of others, but what of methods of achieving these and contributing to society. Time will tell.

My adaption of The Red Wheelbarrow
by William Carlos Williams

So much depends

upon

a leaping childlike

wonder

tickling that bright

desire

in the plumbing

of the heart