Life Is Too Short

22 Jul

These are some quick notes about my dreams last night

I was assigned by my much disliked high school to collect objects and information about the American Civil War. Oddly enough the setting of the dream was the time period right after the war had just ended. I trekked down thru Virginia to Georgia via the Shenandoah Valley towards Atlanta then proceeded northward along the Southern Coast of the United States. Everywhere were burned, bombed out skeletal structures. Railroads destroyed. I collected artifacts and information for my school report as locals struggled to deal with the devastation amongst the rubble. All was devastation. I was starting to experience extreme anxiety as I began to realize it would be almost impossible to return to my school on time because there was no transportation that could provide me a way to return to NYC other than my own two legs.

Upon my arrival to school I was inundated with more school work than I could ever hope to achieve on time. Being a straight A student, obsessed with grades I began to panic. I argued that I could not possibly meet their deadlines. They would not budge. I then did something I never did as a high schooler. I said to them that I would rather be a homeless man with my guitar on the streets than deal with their impossible expectations. “Life is too short,”I exclaimed,”fuck off!” I felt a sudden weight lifted off of my soul. If only I had said this in 1975. Is it too late? I awoke sad and angry at myself for my inability to have realized this then. Now disabled with failed back syndrome it may indeed be too late.


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