Daydreams

Ok, when I get a new Ipod replaced, I have to remember to load up some Simon & Garfunkel. Somehow "Bridge over Troubled Waters" is such a perfect haunting piece for some of those lonely bus rides.

Dear you (yes, you darling girl),

I've been having a lot of white flashes recently.  Perhaps it's because I'm sick of work.  Or maybe my brain needs a little jostling after eating meat voraciously for the past couple of days. [which isn't really true, and obviously, this is not what I do, but hey, I thought I'd throw in a random fictional detail (lie) in there to make this a little funnier -- don't take it seriously, I'm actually quite fit and robust and all I eat are salads.. yes, .. no, seriously.] In any case, after the flashes are over, and usually, they are followed by spots of pink, something inside clicks and the dreaming reels turn on.  I'd thought I share it with you since I'm bored at work.

Dream #1.
We're driving down the S. American coast.  Chilean coast, to be exact.  The sea is a gray blue concoction on the right hand side (since we're driving south south south to the tip of this brooding continent) and the slate gray sky is punctuated by burst of yolky yellow sun though the blooming clouds.  Your hand is out the side window, as always, palms cupped down and you're sailing, sailing with your arms up down up down, slicing through the whirring wind, like how your spirit is cutting through all the bullshit that we've gone through in the past years.  We're silent, and the murmurs of piano music is crescendoing on the radio.

We've been traveling for months.  Maybe three months and counting.  And bits of crackers are on your crumpled dress and you do that thing where you're rubbing my neck so I can stay awake and not crash us into oblivion.  Except that I'm an exceptional driver and well, I like the neck rubs so I don't complain.  Our bellies are full of shredded pork and coconut juice.  Our brains are full of the scenes – crammed full of the past weeks events pushing out the moments of the past months.  There's just no space in the 30% of our utilized brains to hold all the senses and jazz and touches and smells and life – breathing through our bodies. 

Our legs are still heavy from the hike to the milky waterfall.  And our fingernails are still sandy from sleeping on the beach at night, while a hundred thousand million souls look down on us through blinking lights. 

You look at me and yawn.  I smile.  Then we laugh. 

Dream # 2.
I'm running after you. Laughing. Cursing. Holding my sleeping bag close in the chilly before-sunrise moment as you streak towards the foamy waves.  It's totally not cool to pull the spikes out and have the tent come crashing down this early in the day.  And I was going to cook you breakfast! Doesn't matter if you like it or not, you're going for a morning swim.

Dream # 3.
I'm riding a candy red Vespa, navigating Piccadilly Circus as you hold on for dear life in the back seat, bu-bu-bumpity bump through the cobblestone streets.  We are searching for the perfect curry dinner in our first month across the pond.

Dream # 4.
The sun is setting over the minarets of Marrakech.  The sun is rising over serengenti of Kenya.  Our pinkies are locked in our smiling secrets.

Well, it's Monday again.  I'll be daydreaming again in a couple of hours.  See you soon.