A Day In My Shoe

Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock...

Oh God! Oh God! ..(exhaling).. How come my room is now ... my room has turned - dark! This can't be my ... auw, not again. Ahhh, please, God.

I see a flicker of moonlight. The moon is still languishing behind my pecan trees. I'm awake. Slightly.

I drag one pillow unto my chest and kick the sheet and squeeze my eyes tightly. Pleeeeaze. Pleeeeeaze.

I exhale, hoping it would be different this time around.

But no, this dream also has floated too far from me. I cannot pull it back in. It's always this way, so I reminisce. It's far easier to reminisce in the dark with my eyes closed knowing the moon has not yet sunk and that only a few leaves wink.

..(tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-)..

Huh?

2 minutes to 5 AM

One pillow is beneath my head. I embrace the second. The third is curled between my legs. I roll to my side and exhale. God only knows where the fourth pillow is ..(tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-).. Why do these marvelous revelings occur only in my dreams? And even then, in such a flash, splitting like mist aback of an ugly wind?

..(tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-)..

Hmmmmm!

How many, these days, are still lucky to be awakened by cheerful chirpings at a windowsill? How many care?

For weeks I had imagined myself in Paris hanging around the joints once frequented by Picasso, by Hemmingway, by Hughes. I imagined the silent buildings, each with a story to tell, once again lit by sunrise. I could see myself seated at the cafe tables feeling that breeze of history across my face.

I liked these day dreams as much as I wished my night dreams to flesh out their forms.

When I was a child I dreamed of walking the streets of Jerusalem. I wanted to sample the air in Israel and feel the dust of Palestine beneath my bare feet.

I'm not a child anymore.

Yet, I dream.

I dream of Paris. I dream of the champions of good history. It is a new day and still I dream. What else is there?

I slip off the edge of my bed down to my knees, my arms outstretched along the length of my matress, my chin upon its rim, and with grateful breaths I talk to God, "Good Morning."

"Good Morning."

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I often wonder what it would be like to spend a day in your shoes. When I first began thise series I posted this question: What if I were an undertaker? What would that be like? You know the rest. A hit TV series - Six Feet Under! One never really knows for sure, do we?