The Search

What do dreams show the beholder? The future? Their character? Another dimension? Simply random collectives of memory?

I've been here before. Multiple times. This house has given me comfort and joy, even though it's not mine. It's his, or at least his parent's. Against all odds, he'd somehow managed to overlook my crime, my idiocy. All that was felt was love, both sent and received. I missed his embrace and held him close to me.

A different time, a different day. He and I are in the living room of the same house. The color is more sepia, as though a passed storm continues to challenge the sun. He walks into the kitchen, gone for minutes. He then comes back, somber and serious. He gives me a look that says "sorry", "how could you?", and "I still love you" all at once. He walks into a different room down the hall and closes the door. His father walks out of the kitchen, with a look so full of hatred and evil that even Satan himself would be jealous of.

The next thing I remember is the basement. It's dark, the sun set and the lights never lit. I'm curled up in a ball on the floor, facing the couch; it's as though I'm protecting myself from blows, wanting to escape into the fabric. I'm panicked and my face is wet. I've been crying for a while. His father is walking up the stairs and out the front door. I feel emotionally and physically tortured. I sit there, lost and anguished. I can feel that I'm now the only one in the house. I don't know where he went or when he left. I can't even remember what happened after he left the living room.

I'm at a country club, standing out on the lawn. It's cloudy and damp; there's some kind of party going on indoors. I'm unclean, been wearing the same clothes for the past two days. I walk inside and begin weaving through the crowd. I'm looking for him. I know he's here somewhere, but somehow he eludes me. I walk outside and see him getting into a black Lincoln with his family across the yard. I sprint across the slick grass, but I'm too late. The Lincoln is long gone past the front gate by the time I get to it. It begins to drizzle.

I'm wandering though a development. It's cold and wet, as though it's been raining for days. I'm exhausted. I haven't slept in a while. My feet are dragging, I'm soaked, but something keeps me moving: the smallest shred of hope. A shred of hope that's fading ever so slowly yet refuses to die out. I collapse and lean against my car, managing to open the door and crawl inside. "I'll look for you for as long as it takes" I think to myself as I fall asleep - alone - parked outside of his empty house.

Perhaps dreams are a gateway into a person's mind and soul. All of their hopes, fears, and aspirations. Whatever they are, there's nothing more wonderful, shocking, or frightful that your mind can create for you. Hold onto your dreams, even when they show you the darkest side of your self. Those are the dreams that will reveal the most to you over your years.

Stepfather.

This is a dream. This was a dream. I can only hope it will not be a dream..

“Sitting in the bleachers, I watch a swim session, kids lined up to jump in and swim. There are 3 lifeguards, one on the left and right, and one on the far side. One kid jumps in, then right as he touches the water, stops on the water with his elbows, and runs away. I hear people saying that he had to go get something for his father.

“I’m at work, April is there too. The swimming kid runs up to buy a powerade for his father. A woman comes up too. April has me ring her though for some bottled drinks. The woman leaves. I finish April’s check and she has me run after her. I do. I keep running after she gets in her car. I run down the cloverleaf highway merging lanes. I keep running after her car for miles and miles, somehow keeping up with the cars on the road. I catch up to her and begin turning around, using my hands as signal lights and going into the center ditch to get into opposite traffic.

“Ashley, Jesse, and I arrive at a large, estate style house. No one is home, but we have keys. Jesse and Ashley both have one; I only know where one is hidden. They begin opening the door as I find the hidden key. I find it as they get it unlocked and open the door. Stepping in side, we see a small package, wrapped in brown paper and twine, sitting on the doormat.

“The house again. Only this time, I’m alone. I’ve come from a distance to see someone; go on a date with him. He kisses me, but seems timid, frightened almost. We find ourselves at a recycling plant. His stepfather had him bring items here. We walk inside, wandering over piles of garbage. I look down and notice I’m barefoot. I carefully step, ensuring I land on milk bottles. His stepfather scares us. He’s hanging from rafters on the ceiling by his legs. We’re quite close to him, as the pile we have climbed is high up in the warehouse. We’re now on the floor of the warehouse, the pile behind us. Somehow, his stepfather is sitting on top of me, pinning me to the floor. He begins touching my leg, moving his hand further up. I tell him to stop; it only increases his advances. Eventually, his hand is as far up on my leg as possible. I tell him to stop again, getting more and more frustrated. The stepson is sitting in the background, watching, too frightened to do anything. He’s on the verge of tears, but stifles them in fear. I become angry. I tell him to get off me one last time. He smiles at me and continues..”

Sunlight. Dawn peeks through my window, saving me..

Baggage

My car packed full, all my belongings in one place.
My heart empty and bare, all love and happiness gone from that place.
While I take my things with me, my soul behind I leave.
For who or what else to comfort my love when he will go to grieve?

Banished away am I for my sins, my mistakes and crime.
I wish I'd never forsaken my love simply for a "good time."
I cast no blame to him, but only to the mirror.
I still know not why I did it, as there's no one or thing I hold dearer.

I love him more than life itself, but perhaps it's better this way.
One less person to eat and harm and send the world astray.
A final look at my love so pure, the only picture I took.
Why, oh why, didn't I capture more moments, I already miss the look.

Contented to know he'd be safe tonight, my soul forever with him,
I chose a spot, icy and dangerous, with which to cast my last whim.
I love you, I sobbed as the car slid into the ditch,
Cast upon a tree so hard.. The tree, it took a pitch.

Not the way I would have liked to die, burning in a frozen world.
But better than living in a world that I had myself unfurled.
No trace behind, my things gone with me, against the fire no fight.
No trace but my soul, simply content to keep him warm again tonight.

Recession? What recession?

*Sniffs* Ahhh.... Spring is almost here. You can smell it just around the corner, like a bakery on a busy street. But what is this? What other scent is tainting the air? Is it...? No. It can't be.

But it is. That's right, it's recession. Oh, and it reeks like an overheating engine burning rubber on the pavement. Where, oh where, is Febreze when you need it most?? The only place imaginable is at the white house. After all, what else could they possibly be using (insert current debt amount here) billion dollars for? To raise the dollar back to its former standards on the currency market? Definitely not. If anything, its spiraling down into oblivion.

And now to add to this putrid-ness, Obama is attempting to force Obama-care upon his [previously] smitten  hordes. ...Only no one wants it any longer. Not only is it grossly expensive (which, based upon the earlier mentioned budget, is WAY out of budget) but its also a stab against small business and insurance companies. (Wait.... Wasn't Obama supposed to be on Small Business Guy's side?? Oh, never mind. That was the other guy. Senator That-One-Guy-We-All-Know-But-Can't-Remember-Because-Of-Obama's-Previous-Fame. Yeah, him. Right? Right.)

Well, Obama. Looks like you've got quite a job ahead of you. Not only do you have an entire country to attempt to save within 2 years, you also have to do something. Seriously. Get off your Oval Office Chair before it fuses to your lazy, graying rear and stick up for what you said you would.

Christmas Impending!

Alert! Start your Christmas shopping now, before time is gone! ...At least, that's what your friendly neighborhood department store would like you to think.
This Christmas season started like any other... Thanksgiving eaten and behind you on the calendar, your children giving you more long letters to ship to the North Pole, you reading said letters, the son/daughter you thought you had finally gotten rid of at college returning, and of course, the sudden and unexpected snow fall.
One thing no one expected was the sudden turn on Wall Street or the blockbuster presidential election. So, while many would like to complete the list included with the letters for Santa, many will be unable to provide as much as they would like, due to lost jobs, or the raising of taxes.
What any people don’t understand, is that the fastest way to get the economy back on track is to spend the money that they are currently stocking in their bank accounts like squirrels before winter. What they should be doing is following the advice of the bear before winter… Eat. Or, spend in this occasion. It doesn’t matter how much the government borrows to the banks. If people continue to hoard rather than take out loans and purchase, nothing will get better.
And so, wonderful consumers, follow the advice of your friendly neighborhood department store, and spend until your wallets are emptier than the pockets of Big Brother.

8th Floor Display at Macy's

Every year around Christmas time, Macy's (Marshall Fields/Dayton's for those of us who remember) would put together an animated display for the general public, a Christmas gift of sorts. The display takes up almost the entire 8th floor, discounting the gift shop or line space. They base the display off of a certain topic. For example, one year the display was based off of J. K. Rowling's novel, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. This year, 'A Day in the Life of an Elf' was the theme of this year's display in Downtown Minneapolis.
The display followed every aspect of an elf's day- from awakening to the collection of Santa's mail and, of course, making the toys. After walking through, you can get a picture with Santa (you would be amazed how many people can fit in a picture with Kringle in the middle!), purchase something at the gift shop, or give in to the amazing scents of Gingerbread Cookie, that have been wafting from the moment you stepped into the room, and get yourself a cookie from 'Mrs. Claus's Bakery.' Even if you choose to step downstairs to the shopping section of the building, or even further down to their dining area afterward instead, you are bound to return year after year to this celebrated holiday experience.

Coffee Shop Studies

Seeing as how I work at a Dunn Brothers Coffee, I figured it may be an interesting subject for my next blog.

Anyone who frequents, or works at, a coffee shop in the earlier hours of the day, has the opportunity to learn near everything about the other coffee drinkers. There haven't been any studies, or at least that I know of, that show that specialty coffee drinkers are more susceptible to mental intrusion before they've had their coffee, but I'd be willing to bet my next paycheck on it. They will willingly tell you their life stories while you stand before them creating their über caffeinated Turtle Mocha.* Or behind them in line, waiting for their Zebra.* And then there are the odd ones: the coffee drinkers that want regular, black coffee and they want it NOW.

If I was doing a study, my findings [so far] would be: those who order flavored beverages, be it a latte, a cappuccino, or a gloriously tasty frappe, they are considerably more apt to tell you everything about them and usually have no idea what they want in Dunnbrothian language, and proceed to as for something in Starbuckish. Those who order coffee just need something to get the through the morning and would rather be fighting in some sort of mass, infantry and explosive-heavy war than going to work.

From my [extremely] unofficial study, you can see that those who have more fun with their drinks seem to be more open and, as a result, happier as people.

Therefore, I ask you... How much do you spend on your morning coffee?

*For those wondering, a Turtle Mocha is Carmel and Mocha Latte and a Zebra is White and Dark Mocha Latte.