I had this
dream the other night. I’d bought two old ’69 cameros. 350 HP engines. And I
parked them in the drive. I looked over at a huge oak tree. And it had many limbs.
But beyond these lims was a huge trunk twisting lift to right into the sky.
Either it was broken, cut or disappeared in cloud…
Then I went
into the trailer and found the floor flooded. I went to turn off the flooding
water in the bathroom and managed to save the carpet. I then left and returned
later and a big dog was on a chain by the front door. I was supposed to be
scared and I knew if I was scared, the dog would bite me. But I just walked up
to the door. Two enemies I don’t know, just people who wished me harm, were in
the yard. I go in the house and pet this puppy on the carpet, look up, and
there’s my wife or girlfriend and I notice the floor’s flooded again. I stick my head out and ask my enemies if they
know what happened. “Where’s the leak?” They shrug.
I know I’ll
have to cut the carpet at this exact spot and pull all the carpet to save the
floor. Easy, I think. Ain’t nothin’. I
feel she is waiting. Like the form of our relationship isn’t sorted yet. I
stick out my head and ask them what food they want. KFC and some other stuff. I
come back in, let you choose which camero you want. Give you those keys to
keep. Say: “Please go get us food, flatscreen TV, DVD player, DVD’s, etc. while
I clean up this carpet mess.” I hand her a bunch of money. I “give her” and I “do”.
I am a man.
And then it
comes back to the oak tree in the distance. The many limbs in the foreground
and the huge trunk in the background.
I’ve been a
man before like that. Up before the sunrise for work. Nodding off on the drive
home.
If I get
out and work, she will come. If I get it straight again she will be there. But
I don’t want her. I want ‘she-who-will-be-here-now.’
When I am not a “man” in the usual sense.
She who
will recognize that what I’m doing, and have done thus far, is what a true man
can only do. But what a work-a-day man can do is what any ol’ man does.
No female
sees this struggle – I’ve purposively placed myself into for a reason – no female
respects it because they’re blinded by the mainstream man. They see the many
limbed oak and don’t look past the acorns and leaves to the huge trunk
zig-zagging into the sky (or into nothingness?) in the background.
I could
still be at my job on the streets but it’s I had to do these things, all this
had to be accomplished, even if she never presents herself at least I’ve found
the real me in it. It’s a gamble. And I hope she comes…
In Strength
(but…) Love and Struggle,
B.
8-23-12
