In all fairness, I suppose there will be times when all one can do is sit back and wait. There will be times when all one can do is close one’s eyes, and see what they can see, and dream as best as they can.
I can say this is true from a personal perspective. There will also be times when all you can do is close your eyes, despite the challenges or the fights, and just breathe.
I have this dream of mine, which is not unlike the dreams I’ve told you about before.
I have a dream of breaking away and driving down some long open road. Of course, I am in a convertible with the top down. I can see this too . . .
The wind is in my hair, and the early rising sun has already popped through the membrane of the horizon. Nothing is pressing. No fights or bitterness. No hassles and no worries about work or the fact that work can be up and down, or jobs can be at risk.
There’s no talk of politics. There’s no left side or right side of the government here and there are no talks about the debates or the upcoming elections because they are far from my thoughts.
I have other dreams that are like this and similar in the sense that I am out and away. I am far from the manmade dramas. However, some dreams are by land and others are by sea.
I have this vision in my head. I board my boat, just before the sun comes up. I set up my fishing rods and prep stations. I have my buckets ready and as I turn the keys, I can hear my diesel engines rumble and hum when they start. My vessel is outgoing and seaworthy.
I can smell the salty air and feel the summer’s warmth of an early morning. And this is perfect.
I am a fisherman, like my Father was before me. However, finances and times have changed, which makes dreams like this expensive, yet this will all be worth it to me.
One day.
I think about the way the first light begins. I envision how the sun introduces itself to the sky and how the full moon stands by, just to watch the sunrise (with me).
I think about the sleepiness of the other boats in the marina and how the other pleasure boats can rest in their stalls, like pretty stallions, awaiting their moment to trot and be set free.
And speaking of free. . . .
I see nothing as free as the slow movement as I push the throttles into gear and then pull the boat from the dock.
The style of the boat changes in my dreams, which is why I will leave this open for a more interpretive view. However, in my dreams, I find myself in a wheelhouse of my fishing vessel, moving the throttles and steering the boat from the slip while crawling outwards and moving with no wake behind me.
I can feel the water moving beneath my bow. I can feel the vibrating hum of my engines as they are healed for the moment and awaiting to be unleashed.
I think of the bay and the sights and the vision of watching the sun come up from the east.
The sky lights with a soft band of orange and a purple hue intermix along the underbelly across the sky. Little clouds, like strips of feathers, scatter in tiny bands, which are peaceful as ever and beautiful too.
I see this all like a silent symphony in the sky, colorful and friendly, like a gesture that is alive and well and welcoming me to the ocean, outgoing, and everlasting.
I love to picture this.
I can see the seagulls as they follow me from the marina. I can hear them as they call out to each other. I can see the bridges up ahead, some are drawbridges with bridge masters. And ah, what a job this must be. The bridge masters are the operators who sit in a tower and wait to pull their levers, which drop the advisories and send a wooden arm with flashing yellow lights across the road to stop the traffic. Then, the bridge can rise.
I can see the inlet and the ocean and the way the sky has changed to a perfect golden hue. The sun is promising. The winds are kind.
The waves are friendly and at moments like this, nothing is pressing. No one is fighting. The fishing rods are all in place. The bait is waiting.
And the fish?
The fish are out there.
The day ahead is non dramatic and the time about to come is more than healing. This is more than therapeutic. To me, this is a dream come true. I understand that some dreams must wait. I understand that dreams change.
I understand that there is a purpose here and there is a drive and hope and a promise to myself that nothing can or will ever deter me from this moment. I will have “her.”
The same as I plan to take my drive, somewhere out west with the top down and drive along the coast, I will have my outgoing vessel, and I will find my way.
My plans might have to change. My influences and my situations will change as well. However, I am not asking myself the “what now?” questions this morning.
No, not today.
I’m not thinking about the dramas or the fights or the bitching festivals of useless arguments. I’m not going to overthink or rethink and try to re-litigate the past.
Instead, I am going to allow myself this vision and this dream.
Rather than succumb to the anxious thoughts or submit to the anticipatory anxieties, which are common to me and frequent, I’m going to detail this dream to the best of my ability.
So, this way, I can see it.
This way, I can build this dream, one stitch at a time.
But before I go . . .
Sometimes, all one can do is sit back and come up with a plan. All I can do is figure out the first next thing, and then the second, and then the third.
But when it comes to dreams as valuable as this, all I can do is move, step by step, and come up with a plan to make it so.
The Written Addiction 