MY ESSAYS

Sweet Dreams And Happy Tomorrows

  • sweet dreams and happy tomorrows. Not a good day. Not good at all. Rosie was here though. Steve here. The material world no longer matters. So it was good after all. When days get as bad as this, all I can count on for joy–is that which makes a family. Tired nights lead to more tired mornings, when I stay up waiting for bad to turn to good, while wrapping those I love around the universe of all that really matters in my life. And then out of necessity, I separate them from that which drives me to pain for all the tortured beings, who cry out through their souls in the night, whom I work feverishly to save, blocking my family from that which would over-burden them.
  • Each way I turned, in this very bad day, I was blocked by the powers that be, they call themselves, and there was not a thing I could do about it. How powerless a feeling, yet still I feel motivated–driven by a force greater than all of them put together. Failing is no longer an option. But how can one succeed when so many others block that which drives this old, weary body, mind and spirit of mine? But wait, body yes, mind yes, but spirit? Can the spirit ever get as tired as I’m feeling right now? Not a chance. It can’t be.
  • Logically, if the spirit never dies, then it never tires either. So, there is a chance. I just need to play out the night–into the morning–until my spirit and the spirits of those who envelop me with their love and instruction to keep fighting, tell me to go to bed, Sharon. Happy dreams and sweet dreams, as I see Rose living hers while her legs run in her sleep without her on them; and Steve snoring through his ‘better days are coming’ dreams. I can almost hear the words. Isn’t that what happy dreams and sweet dreams are all about? Making right what went wrong in the day? Yes, but still I stay up while they rest and I wait for something, maybe nothing–to happen.
  • Tomorrow’s a new day, they say for a reason. The sun will rise and we’ll all wake together in the same bed. Probably Steve first, then Rose, then me–but still together, as I am now with them, while I’m awake and they sleep. We’ll make better tomorrow what we couldn’t make right today–as the formidable team we are. We will rise discouraged–as always, but slowly come to the realization of how lucky we are–to be a family. We’ll go for a walk in the park that Rose claims as her own, and as we witness her joy in being free as she romps through the tall grass beckoning us to join her, we’ll know why we’re here–for her–and for us. We’ll laugh and talk and let her herd us as she weaves around the trees of pine that we stop to smell, picking up the pine cones they dropped seemingly for the taking, and acorns and anything else we can make live again through art. We’ll wind down to the waterfront to commune with the sea gulls, the lake, the big sky–that can’t be seen from where we live, and put her back on the leash as we walk on the flat rocks, past the fisher people who are there for the same reason we are, more for nature than food.
  • Only Rose can make us feel alive, like a kid again, back to nature and all the joys of walking on this great earth. With all our burdens, only she can bring us back to our true essence–being the animals we are–to love again the privilege. This was a good day after all. The memory of our routine makes it so, giving me something special to look forward to tomorrow. When we make it through the night in a world filled with terror it is a happy day–happy dreams and happy tomorrows fulfilled.
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