I Remembered a Dream
I remember last night’s dream, a rarity. Some guys worked long and hard to renovate a dump; sewage, garbage, it was gross, and no one seemed to know about it but me.
I loved jumping from rock to rock in the now cleaned up water, but felt I was being watched. Of course I was being watched. I was called in, like a principal summons a troublemaker and was told, in no uncertain terms, that I musn’t be in there, I was not allowed to go in there, all these men would lose their jobs, their livelihood, and their families would starve if I went in there.
No one said why. Blind obedience requests you hold all your questions until forever.
I was born to reason why, came out demanding explanation and wouldn’t shut up until I heard the truth. The truth, sad as it was, was that I was an accident. Or, in the poetical parlance of my father, his elegiac eloquence, his witty wisdom: I was a “mistake”.
No why for that either. Alcohol, poor judgment, no condom, no matter. Here I am and you can’t put me back, too late to change your mind, impossible to shut me up until my mother died, and the world went quiet.
LBM 3/6/2023
