It is becoming more and more difficult to wake feeling refreshed (and I sleep a great deal these days), though it is not a chore to be awake and doing once the weariness has been waylaid. A bit of the perception with which one invaded others’ lives with asperity has lately dampened, but apart from the physical clacking out of details in which they are deficient, there is still the spiritual affinity, the kinship of lacking-in-tandem, that has only recently faltered in making its way into the script. I have no time, really, for analyzing my defects (though I waste much doing so in some areas), and this is one of the reasons I must carry two sets of keys on separate rings, so as not to find myself fiddling overlong at familiar keyholes. Apparently, too, I had come to believe in my misconception that history began in the middle of the twentieth century when a curtain dropped closing off in obscurity all that went before, as if it were of no consequence, had no bearing on what is being hoisted upon us all under the banner of Current Events, and only lately have heard, through intentional listening, I must admit, the clamoring of voices of those ghostly actors offstage still wallowing in the results of their own misdeeds. My parents, heavenly angels though they may (or may not) be, are no saints, and now, in my knowing, can never be considered such, as I have inherited all their misgivings, all their foibles, and the proclivity to repeat their inappropriate actions. In dreaming, none of this matters a jot because in that realm everything is possible, and forthcoming, and that is why I linger within its boundaries, for, seen from that side, there are no frontiers at all.
© Michael D. Brown 2013
Originally posted at 6S Social Network