Useless chatter about administrative wish-wash, supposedly busy bees. A lady walking in the rain as if her legs were bound by a kimono. And twirls of black hair laced with snow. When all else fails, you revert back to what your parents told you to do. But now mother and dad are well gone, probably looking after you in your sleep.
The dream that jolted me awake. It was in a supermarket and Rob played a folk tune that ended up causing trouble because he began to let loose. 'Ne'er knew' he played the guitar, and the way he rocked, envy started brewing inside. Two others were there shopping, but their faces were vague. Or maybe I forget, now. But it was the wild strumming of Robert Weaver's hands that took my wits away; leaving me speechless. It's that kind of speechlessness that's mixed with comparing cock sizes. When did he learn how to play like that? He was never the kind to feel music in his bones. Or has my memory failed me? Ah yes, the dinner party- when he did the AC/DC humming rendition for 'Back in Black'. While closing his eyes, he had to dig deep and the way he hummed it, his face wrinkled up into a used tin foil ball.
Then, his guitar playing ended with an extravagant sliding motion along the neck of his piece. It was the style of a blues player rift, an end to that folk heart break. How did he learn? I demanded while waiting in the check out line, like all the tired faces- Rob's raisin pain faded to nothing and the dream continued. This question was bothering me, and I was lost in thought- I could have easily been hit by a car, my mind was lost in perplexity. And while driving towards a destination that was unknown in this dream, I recall these streets in my elementary days. It was the road I'd have to trek coming home from the bus stop. "Hey Chief!" that old man on the corner would say, every stinking day. He didn't ever bother to ask my name. He would just trim his lawn and his V-neck shirt, scrumpy shorts, always the same attire. One would think he was a mummy walking. That road. What am I doing here? And then Verona comes out checking the mailbox. She spots me and she instantly becomes agitated. I know that face too well. That darling face that swells up in the eyes whenever conflict arises. It's as if her bright blue eyes'd change a shade darker or brighter depending on the mood. When was the last time I even thought of this? Or even felt this kind of disobedience? In the dining room, there was a vacancy. Everyone looking up, the man of the house is here. No aroma of garlic or spice, but there was spaghetti.
A sudden jolt into reality. 4:30am the clock read, and the only way to go back to sleep was to touch myself. Gosh, why does it have to be that way, my better half poking away. It must be done. There is work in a few hours, and this life in Korea is becoming heavy once more. That question asked yesterday, "What would you be doing if you weren't here?" I don't know. But thinking of it now, I smile. Because, I don't know but there are dreams. Yes, there are...
No comments:
Post a Comment