My Dream.


My dream last nite…..running with my arms outstretched …a dog running by my side, a white dog, I think he was a poodle, I think he was Tobias, but he ran so fast, I’m not sure Tobias could run as fast as we were running cause his legs are  only as long as my middle finger. But it’s a dream, and I probably don’t run as fast in real life as I run in my dreams. I was about to take flight, my arms stretched out like wings….I was grinning big, I was free, this dream was about…freedom and joy, rebirth…I don’t get hung up on the joy thing. It’s temporary, it’s going to pass. You can’t keep it. Watch it! you’ll certainly get sucked into the hole called suffering if you think it’s all about being happy. Fuck happy. The quest for happiness is making all of us crazy. and old. and tired. and superficial. Life isn’t about being happy. I don’t know what life is about, maybe life is about living, huh? And that’s not all happy in case you haven’t noticed. What the hell are we even talking about when we say “happy” …….? Absence of pain? A good hair day, falling in love? A fat paycheck and no bills to pay? I don’t know….A sky full of pink, blue, and purple? I cut an umbilical cord yesterday. It was like a phone cord, a thick phone cord, one for humans three times our size. incredible. The baby wasn’t happy to be pulled from the dark wetness of his mother’s womb, to be thrust into the cold emptiness that we live in. All of us running around trying to look happy. Fuck happy. Funny thing…I feel happy. But that’s just a feeling..a fleeting emotion…I love it, though..I feel light and bright, and I want to talk more about my dream, the vendor selling wooden hair accesories, the butterfly hairties made of wood, I bought two for my pony tail and I also bought 1 wooden flower. That’s all. My dream was happy. I lit a white Jesus candle last nite before sleeping. The house felt creepy, so big and old and white. Empty save for me and my big fat mind stuffed full of CIBO and the setting sun, the clouds like a carnival ride that throws you about, relentless and loving. What am I even talking about!  Shut up, critic!  SHIT. I shall never again write for you. You who insist on the silliness…the rules of logic and grammar, punctuation…POINTS. That’s why I am in love with the freewrite. I am caressing my very own mind on this Friday morning, its soft today full of butterflies and wood, a white dog..and the possibility of a fresh sprung spring romance. Is it time yet? No more bullshit. HA! It’s time to do this, NOW. I don’t know the point. I don’t care about philosophies or tools or anything at all. I only care about this. the moment. The fucking cliche’s….BE PRESENT. stay present. The gift…is the PRESENT. Don’t chase happiness. Be present. I think that’s what’s meant by happy. presence. But what the hell do I know? I spit out words without editing, without being careful. I am reckless. I’m a reckless writer. Reckless writing. How’ s that, huh? I want to say FUCK! And I don’t care if I offend you. Sorry. I don’t care. Get over yourself and your ideas…no…how about getting around your ideas….your thoughts…get around them.  My dreams last night set me up for a day full of blue skies and laughter. My heart is light today. I don’t think it will last. It can’t last. But I love it. I LOVE it. I fucking LOVE it. My heart has wings and my hair looks great. This too shall pass. Fuck.

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