The dream is just another variation of a dozen others, every one of them consists of my walking through an empty building.
Written in spray paint or a black sharpy are the words, Hold Me Now and in the background different music plays.
Sometimes I hear Into The Mystic and my pace quickens because I know time is limited.
And when that foghorn blows you know I will be coming home
And when that foghorn whistle blows I got to hear it
I don’t have to fear it
I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And together we will float into the mystic
Sometimes there is a faint noise that catches my ear and I stop walking so that the clickety-clack of my bare feet upon the pavement will end and I can focus.
I cock my head to the side and close my eyes certain that if I can figure out the general direction of the sound I can locate the person making it.
But I never do and my gypsy soul sends me onward because now I hear music and I am certain it will answer the questions I haven’t yet asked but want to.
The room is empty but for a speaker from which songs of my childhood keep playing.
It is a 70s music marathon and the lack of people there remind me of a scene from Scooby Doo but there is no Mystery Machine or dog to accompany me on my search.
I mutter something about my willingness to move heaven and earth to get to the bottom of things but the only response I get comes from Helen Reddy singing Delta Dawn.
“I Am Woman and I Don’t Know How To Love Him” are the next two songs to play and I realize I have probably exhausted my knowledge of her song book.
Daybreak finds me lying in bed with my eyes closed trying to figure out what the hell that was about but nothing makes sense so I say screw it and wander to the bathroom.
The reflection looking back at me is a stranger with my eyes.
He is not quite bald but after having shaved his head he might as well be. No matter what I do to try and fool him he expertly mimics every expression and repeats all of my words back to me with perfect precision.
“You’re too old to be thinking about Scooby Doo.”
The words hang in the air but there is only silence and the realization that distracting myself isn’t bringing back any more pieces of the dream or understanding of it.
Tear Down The Wall
Later on among the clanking of metal and grunts of heavy weights I hear a voice say tear down the wall.
Can’t decide if it is the wall I put up or related to others but figure time will clarify.
So I throw on The Ecstasy Of The Gold and start walking.
When you find your passion and your purpose you haven’t any choice but to go after it and to go hard.
Sometimes you have to break the rules and push your limits because there is no time to sit back and watch.
Failure is painful, but it is worse to never try.