Wednesday’s Dream0

I rest my back in a false patch of grass that was installed into the massive marble bench that sits on the sidewalk made of concrete that was placed over the real grass below that was never made to withstand the hardened soles of the daily labor parade.

The grass has recently drank from the purified river that man has created and the excess is slowly flowing into the aging receiving grate to my left. The echoing sound that it creates is like a slowly flowing stream during a dry season. My back begins to grow damp. I welcome the feeling of the cool moisture that sends a chill down my spine and I begin to feel
myself fading from the world we’ve created, to the world that we’ve come from.

I lay my book upon my chest, rest the back of my heels upon the dirt, and throw my arms back into the blades of grass and ask the powers that be, that in this short time I will spend here, that I may have a dream.

As the sounds of the world around me begin to mud together, my head becomes light, my feet and hands become heavy, and my heart slows. I fade into the sound of my engine humming at a steady pace, and I find myself on the one home that follows me wherever I go, the seat of my motorcycle.

The love of my life resting her chin on my shoulders as we roll with the cool east bound wind on our backs seeing the storm approaching us from the south. I cannot see her face but I can feel the waves of happiness that rush through me as her hair dances in the wind across my collar. I can picture her smile as she clenches her clasped arms together and squeezes me to tell me that she is thinking of me and that she is content.

This dream that is an escape from the appointments, and the schedules and the keyboard clicks, the bank statements, the bills, the career ladder and the false sense of success. This dream is the life I want to live.

I want to lie on my back and in the grass and listen to the thunder of the approaching storm that has turned the leaves of the scatterd trees on their backs, has painted the hot and dry prarie wind crisp and cool, and sent the fields of wheat running for their lives.

I want to stare at a campfire as night falls jotting down notes into a road worn notepad while the love of my life rests her tired head in my lap and the universe uses me as a voice to communicate her amazing creative ideas through me. As my brain runs rampant and I close my notebook and place it at my side.  I want to look down at my love as I run my fingers through her hair and see the look of peace as she re-energizes her beautiful soul.  I want the feeling of contentment to wash over me so often that I become immune to it.

The strange sound of thousands of stomping footsteps grabs my attention and I stare out into the starry skied landscape that surrounds me. The footsteps grow louder and the damp feeling on my back begins to rush over me. The realization that the Bike that I am leaning on is not leaking, but instead, mother earth is reminding me that it is time to leave my escape and return to my life.

I wake up staring straight up at the competeing peaks of two churches of greed towering over me to welcome  me back to life. I grab my book and begin walking to the bridge. The voices of the earth and the universe are starting to fade and as I place my book into my back pocket and merge into the crowd, they fade more until my pace has caught back up to the rest of the world and they disappear completely.