Dreams
Written September 2003
I sat down at my desk, staring off into
space. My mind wandered off, and I started thinking. I started thinking about
my dreams. I started dreaming my dreams.
The frown that is forever on my face is gone. The sadness is
gone. The emptiness is gone. I’m not depressed. I’m not numb. I’m something
else, something new, something desired. There’s a smile on my face. I’m laughing.
I’m having a good time. I’m something good, something rare in my life: I’m
happy.
I walk into a room, and I see faces, and bodies. I have never
seen them before, but I know them. I know them as my friends, the people
whom I never see. They’re all here. Jami. Rayet. Harri. Dragon. Effti. Kate.
Kit F. Joshshaine. They’re all here, and I’m here. We’re going to have a
good time, all together.
Someone comes to me. I do not know this person, not now. Maybe
I will someday, I don’t know. She comes to me. She has a problem. She talks
to me, and I listen, and I say something. I suggest something that maybe
she can do, and maybe it’ll be okay. She thanks me, and she leaves, and I
smile. I was able to help.
I’m back at a desk, but at a different desk. A school desk.
I have work in front of me, and I do it. I do not get frustrated with it.
I sit there peacefully, and work. I like my work. I don’t mind doing it.
In fact, I enjoy doing it. It’s not easy work, not pathetic work, but hard
work, work that is challenging. I’m learning, and I can feel the joy. My
education is mine, and it’s good.
I’m at a desk again, but a full desk, in a house. There’s a
computer in front of me, with Microsoft Word pulled up. On Word is a story,
a story written by me. The story I am writing. I go to write, and I write.
The words flow out of me, through my fingers and onto the screen. I sit there,
sit still, and write a chapter. I finish it, and go back and reread. It worked.
I wrote, and I like what I wrote. I can write.
I’m no longer in Virginia. I’m in another state, an unknown
state, a state in the northeast. I’m no longer alone. I’m no longer with
people I don’t care about. Rayet’s here. Others are here, others whose faces
I cannot see but whose presence I can feel. This is no visit. This is for
real. I live here, and Rayet lives here, and the others live here. We are
no longer spread out in all different places. We are together. We can go
out and do things and have fun. We are not tied to the computer screen. I
am here, and they are here. The mass migration has become reality.
A cat jumped into my lap, and I woke up from my dreams. As
each scene passed through my head I had wished that the one before it had
stayed and wished that they were real instead of just dreams.
I sighed, and wished for the dreams back. After a few moments,
I realized that I didn’t need to. These were my dreams, my goals. All I had
to do was go for them, and I would achieve them. And so I shall.
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