Voices, Words and No Dreams

Today was my day to experience the metropolis of Truro, in all its monotone glory.

The first activity once we reached the town was for me to miss getting my license by one point. It’s no great loss, for once I’m in the city I will both be near a place where I can retake the test at my convenience, and in an area where a car is not at all needed (or even wanted, honestly).

Next we stopped at the mall. There I bought three CD’s and a book. Audioslave’s self-titled debut, The Trews’ House of Ill Fame and Delerium’s Chimera (with bonus disc featuring videos and songs) were the audio portions of my purchase, and Diane Dreher’s The Tao of Inner Peace was my words-and-paper piece.

After some hours around that area I went for a walk in the Truro Cemetery. There I phoned in an audio journal entry (which I may share with some or all of you).

Next I called up my wonderful pretty haired inspired disciple, Alisha. We talked for a while as I walked around the paths between the graves, attempting to keep cool and clear of the too-hot sun, in the shade of the trees. It was very nice to be able to talk with Alisha again.

While we were talking my father saught me out and told me the rest of my family was ready to depart. Thus, I had to cut short my talk with Alisha and return to the car.

My mother and sister went to the “hound of capitalism” while my father dropped me off at a used book store. I looked around a good while before finding the book I would eventually purchase. Meditation & Dreamwork was the title of said bound leaves, and the author Tara Ward.

I then went to the spot where my father said he would be meeting me. During the half hour between when he said he would arrive and when he actually did I paced around the block in the heat, drank some vanilla cola, bought some envelopes and concluded that it is a concrete fact that silver and grey are colours which have become used far too often for automobiles.

Once my father finally arrived we gathered up my sibling and other parent and we went to eat and buy food which we will eat in the coming days.

We returned home, and here am I.

Anyone who knows the inner workings of my sleep, and those are few, know that I have remembered only a very few dreams in my life. Why then would I purchase a book on meditation and dreams?

Dreams facinate me, perhaps because I have had less than most. I feel that perhaps I sould take a proactive step in reclaiming them for myself, and in doing so push forward toward enlightenment of not only myself, but others.

“Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream…”