It’s another vivid dream, coal black hair splayed across my arm, I slowly pull myself away and stand up, look out the window at Jerusalem and nod my head.
Walk through the room, knowing this is real, but not real and try to figure out what is off.
Dad is sitting at table watching people pass by, he smiles at me and nods his head and I head out the door.
It is not my first time in Jerusalem, I know these streets and have walked them many times but it is the first since I fought my way through the hell and came out the other side.
I am not who I once was and figuring out who I am becoming, more myself than ever and still evolving.
Voices call out to me, but I don’t turn around because I can’t figure out if they are the ghost of the past or echoes of the future.
“One day I won’t look for you” spills in a soft growl from between my lips but there is no one around to hear.
Just another guy in a t-shirt and shorts walking the streets but to what destination I cannot tell you.
Soon I’ll be walking the ramp towards the plane that takes me to the next stop on the journey but I haven’t figured out yet if my mind will be blank or racing.
The focus will be on not living in either extreme because the middle is where I prefer to occupy.
Better to be in the place where people suggest if I seemed anymore relaxed I’d have to be asleep than the one where I can’t hold still.
Got so many thoughts and ideas about what is coming and what has arrived.
****
Back in the dream I tell dad about some of what has happened and share some of my plans for the future.
“I am going to do it because I can’t accept not trying.”
Dad smiles at me, nods his head and shares his opinion.
“Five times. I asked you to answer the questions five times but you never did. Either you can’t answer because you haven’t figured out how to or you are refusing and I can’t figure out why.
But you have managed to make me question your credibility.”
He looks at me, fumbles for a response and I jump on it, slicing into bits of flotsam and jetsam.
“I don’t need to be interrogated by you.”
“No, you need to be educated. I’d be embarrassed if my kids pulled this crap.”
His face goes white and I watch him try to figure out if he can pull some righteous indignation or any sort of anger to shield himself.
“Don’t worry about trying to put your armor on, I am done.”
I turn and walk away and wonder when I became this guy and why I bothered to be as honest as I was. There is no upside.
I don’t feel better and I don’t feel worse. I don’t really feel much of anything.
When I board the plane I’ll have to decide whether it is with one laptop or two.
Part of me is prepared to disconnect and not blog at all. Part of me is prepared to say you’ll get a few posts that will be set on a time so that this gets updated and part of me says you’ll get nothing new.
I’ll be busy. I’ll be preoccupied. I’ll be tired.
That might be enough to keep me from wanting to write or noticing that I haven’t.
It also might be exactly what makes me want to write and do quite a bit of it. I could do it by hand.
My writing is different when I play scribe, so different I wonder if my biggest fans would notice or recognize.
So much is happening, so much has happened.
There are leaks in the dam and I suspect no way to plug it. I feel it straining to maintain its structural integrity but it won’t.
Time will ensure what is coming will come.
Soon we’ll see whether we play hunter or the hunted.
I’m coming.
