dreams that have no meaning/the tale of old greybeard

A few nights ago, I dreamed about my ex-girlfriend.  I don't remember what the dream was about or the context in which she made her walk-on.  I remember that the moment she entered my dream, there was an immediate feeling of loss and desire.  Then, something shifted.  I realized that my dream-brain had gotten her image wrong.  It wasn't her.  My subconscious could only form a representation and not an actual likeness. Of course, I consciously remember her appearance, but my subconscious had no clue as to what she looks like.  I laughed myself awake. 

The moment my eyes opened, I found the beautiful woman next to me pulling me closer into her sleeping arms.  She was in no way awake, but her subconscious was finding comfort in my form.  I knew comfort myself at that exact moment.

I don't know why my sleeping brain had decided to produce those feelings in my dream, but I doubt that I will ever dream of her again.  I have new dreams to look forward to.


--

The longer and bushier my beard gets, the more of a character it becomes on its own.  There are several reasons to no longer keep my face in check.  Least of all, I want to see how long I can go at work before one of my bosses calls me out and tells me to trim it.  Next, I've just never let my beard go rogue before.  I kind of just want to see what it might look like.  Also, the girl I'm currently dating (I haven't officially called her my girlfriend yet) loves the beard.  Why shave it when she nuzzles more and more the longer it gets?  Mostly though, I call it my film school beard.  All of the greats have had one: Jackson, Kubrick, Spielberg.  Will having a beard make me a better filmmaker?  Certainly not, but it makes me look more the part, and what could that hurt?

However, the longer it gets, the more I notice the gray in it.  This is probably the number one reason it is staying and at length.  As a guy that likes to smoke pipe tobacco and drink scotch, I feel like it makes me distinguished.  The corners of my mandible go whiter every day.  I kind of like it.

open borders

There's another toothbrush on my sink ledge.  It's the scout of a new country looking to invade the borders of my life.  I am usually taken over, annexed willingly, in a soft surrender.  Will I put up a good fight this time? For now, I will play the diplomat.

We both have our national secrets, but who doesn't?

-- -- --

You'd think that this would be a distraction, but it is an inspiration.  A photo shoot of those large eyes in wild flowers is in order.

The fortuneteller told her to marry the brown haired man in the movie business.



‎"Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for."-Bob Marley  

no old man snoring

I found myself ready for a little drizzle in my life; a little cleansing wetness.  I didn't know there would be this kind of downpour.  Which exciting storm do I chase?

Should I take to the road and follow the tempest that will whip and whirl with a frenzy, but merely die out quickly?  Or, should I follow the hearty cloudburst; the type of storm that feeds and nurtures the earth?

One will leave me on the road and still looking for that lustrate rain.  The other might just end with the comfort of a warm hearth into the long black night. 

For now, I will fix on the former.  There will always be more rain.  There will always be a chance for the comforting fire as well.

I have old sayings and childrens' rhymes dancing in my head. 

Always remember to wear a raincoat when chasing storms.