"What Should Our Dreams--To Us--Convey"

 

 

 

 

 

“What Should Our Dreams--To Us--Convey”

10/29/13

 

To my always dear and valued friends, and ever kind, and loyal readers,

 

 

It is now near 11:49 a.m. on an otherwise quiet and unremarkable Tuesday. 

 

As usual, I woke to pain, and a general dull-wittedness.  I just want a quiet, and ordinary day, relatively free from, ‘boojums’, or, ‘whammies’. And—of course—a day without bills in the mail would be nice, too!

 

 In my thoughts of you, my dearest friends, and always loyal readers, that I wish to spend (if you will but allow) with you, some thought out reverie, or perhaps some little bit of quiet news.

 

Presently I hurt with the lingering shadows of, ‘global (nowhere, and yet, everywhere) pain’ that clouds my thoughts, and a bad left eye that obscures my computer screen, so that I must view my tired and jaded world with but one eye, and compromised sight; believe me, it is sufficient to my needs, as who needs 20/20 vision to feel such pain, and cry.

 

Gamely, I try with many cigarettes and coffee to ignore it full, though--as an afterthought--some lingering distress remains.

 

All of us need our sleep, especially those of us who daily suffer from pain, mental distress, depression or despair.  We need to retire to our beds at night, finding first that singularly comfortable spot among the cool linens and covers.

 

Gradually (it is hoped), we relax, and as our sleep deepens, we enter that phase of sleep from which dreams arise.

 

Too often—though—these, ‘dreams’, are troublesome, annoying, scary or terrifying.  It seems quite unfair, after a day of hurting, our dreams should lead us into Hell’s playpen!

 

These awful, and horrible dreams cause us to startle-awake, to get up for a drink of water while the, ‘nerves’, settle down.  And then, return to bed to begin the cycle anew.

 

Personally, I don’t seem to have any, ‘control’, over my dreams; while I have heard of, ‘lucid’, dreaming, during which time the person sleeping can control the content, direction, and implied meanings of their dreams.

 

But to all my dear friends whom I freely love, and who never stray far from my heart of hearts,   this, perhaps, explains why I, in some quiet poetic frame, might ever hope to move you to a place far from your pains.

 

 

 

 

 “What Should Our Dreams, To Us, Convey...?”

 

I

 

What should our dreams, to us, convey...? Something no worse
than sight of dewy petals, as from some rosebud burst;
or, some happy, half-remembered bit of childhood verse.
Or like some wind-up circus where-at first-
is seen a pretty lady on a horse, while acrobats and painted clowns rehearse.
Of princely hoards of candies, rare, surrounded with sufficient icy lemonade to quench one's thirst.

 

II

 

Conveyed should be the views of fabled past
Where dashing, charging knights slay all monstrous dragons to the last;
of banquets in a castle hall, where noble knights and princesses dance a slow pavane ‘neath roped, candled chandeliers that hang bright overhead, each tied, held fast;
where heavy, ancient, oakened doors creek on ironed hasp.

The tales of Quest, and rightfully boastful songs by morning's awakening, too quickly fade and pass.

 

III

 

Our dreams should reveal the wayward path to a secret garden shown;
with scent of brilliant flowers all unknown,
to mingle with the gentle smell of grass new mown.
A quiet place to which the rancors of a pained, and half-resented day have flown.
A most delightful place, a tonic for all previous sins; a chance to redeem, and to atone.
And...thus forgived, to lie in this magic place, alone.

 

IV

 

This gardened spot should with its sheer evanescence sway.
All through the night, all pain forgot, as are the trials of a pain-filled day.
Those mossed, and twisting paths would surly find a way
To some safe pace, where even tired adults can play
To their delight, with unicorns, and other such-like mythic creatures stay;
and, all can as joyous, happy dance through a bright, and cloudless day.

 

V

 

Our dreams should be as sacred as an hymn
heard in some vast, and cloistered stained-glassed cathedral, when
choruses of angels lift up their voices, with a merciful and joyous theme within,
that would enthrall a tired, and weary soul, and then
lift it as well to such an holy place, to which a loving God would descend,
to offer soothing, healing touch, and to all would beckon…” Enter In.”

 

VI

 

Our dreams thus revealed, should in a voice...a quiet sigh
explain to all who walk but painfully, while though, in shuttered dreams can fly!!!
And rise like gilded birds, who, soaring ever high
Can hardly see the earth, below, nor indeed anything beneath a brighted sky;
that we--perhaps--could do all things, if only we but try;
could we but overcome our foes, our fears, our pains that, daily, would confront us with their dissembling lies?

 

VII

 

Our fever'd dreams should nightly take us to a place wherein all past and present ailments race;
far flung from despairing or repressed horror to that space
that knows no limit, off'ring cure to that disease which ‘has no face.'
Instead, forgive us, and the mockery of those who cannot understand our souls is banished, ‘till just a trace
of it remains. And we awake, thus chastened, with drying tears upon our face.

 

VII

 

Must we awake, instead, garlanded with pain, despair, and longing full arrayed? For we, too, were young once, and fearless, thinking ourselves invulnerable, unafraid;
ignoring future ills and sorrows as they came, to leave us reeling and dismayed?
In base reality, we now awake to find, again, our faces lined with age, with load of care displayed;
Again, the daily loneliness, and dreadful, whoresome pain, is trotted out upon the stage: a one-act scene of misery and deprivation played;
when, in some peaceful, guarded, healing dream, ALL tortures can be waived.

 

End

 

But, what are the contents of your dreams, my friends?  Are they repetitive, or seem to follow a particular theme?  Do your dreams ever frighten you, sufficiently to drive you out of bed to some place of greater, or more reassuringly, ‘safe’, part of the house?  Or…can you—through, ‘lucid’, dreaming control the content and subject matter of your dreams.  Please reply in the, ‘comment section’, below. Thank you!

 

Oh, my very, very dearest friends, I wish for you no pain, or, very much-lessened pain.

Quiet, peaceful days.  Wonderful days. Days of financial sufficiency, free from want or care.

Days of wistful recollections; of letting soft memories play-about the mind.  Days of happiness, and of being valued and loved.

I wish for you pleasant evenings, free from the shackles of pain or despairing; a gradual and natural tiredness, and of retiring to comfortably soft beds, there, as my dear, late father used to say:

“Kept safe in the arms of Morpheus”, the ancient Greek God of dreams.

And there, to seek true rest, restorative and blissful until morning’s first light.

 

Please, please know that I think of you so very often, and that I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc'/Charles

"B-o-o-o-o-o! And To All, A Most Happy Halloween!"

“B~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O!
And To All, A Most Happy Halloween!!!”

(“From goulies and ghosties and long-leggedly beasties and things that go bump in the night Good Lord, deliver us!”-from an ancient Scottish prayer, often mistakenly attributed to the Scottish poet, Robert ‘Robbie' Burns.)

 

10/26/13

 

‘An American Halloween’

 

To my very dearest friends, and always kind readers,

 

 

It is now late Fall, and there’s a decided crispness in the cooler evening air.

The leaves of trees are changing color; the ones yet unraked scatter, and blow into drifts across yards, and sidewalks, and crunch when walked-upon.

The holidays that—like freight trains—follow one after the other, heralding the end of the year are still far-enough away to be worrisome.

 

 

 

In less than a week from now, it will be ‘Halloween'! A time of chills and thrills, sudden, ‘surprises', cackling laughter, ever deepening shadows, misty, full-moon nights, pumpkins, lit by candle from within, black cats, noisy, ‘spooks', spider web (hopefully, without the spiders!), candy corn, and the joyous peals of children's laughter as they, in every manner of costume, trudge holding half-full bags of ‘treats'--from welcoming door to welcoming door.

Can witches aboard broomsticks, flying fast and low, be seen outlined against the moon? Can you hear the rattle of chains, the squeal of rusted door hinges, or the, ‘whooshing', fluttering of bats as they-too-fly through the air?

For children, it once was-and still should be-a time of pretend, of being anything they may want to be; walking single-file (accompanied by adult supervision, and in, ‘safe', neighborhoods) down sidewalks in a thousand neighborhoods, looking for the houses that invite with porch light on, and welcoming open front door.

There to, ‘show-off', their many wildly colored, and wonderful dress, to adult homeowners who suddenly, ‘have to guess and guess what each little, ‘treater', represents.

 

There are always costumes of the, ‘Superhero’s', in current vogue...Batmen, and Batgirls, Supermen, and, Supergirls; and let us not forget, ‘X-men'!

 

But more traditional outfits include a spate of would-be Firemen, Princesses, Farmers, Faeries, Witches, and Ghosts; plus costumes that reflect childhood, ‘want-to-be's'.

It is the children who know exactly what the ,’modern’, American Halloween is all about: the chance to play, and to pretend; to assume-for one, brief night-whatever persona they choose.

 

 

And they LOVE it! Fully as much-if not more-than the candy treats they hope to receive.

 

 

I ask you, my very dearest friends, when was the LAST time you went out, ‘trick-or-treating'? Not--mind you--as one of the supervising adults. But rather, part of that happy throng that delighted in playing, ‘dress up'?

 

In October of 1963--when I was nine years old--it was the very last time my mother and father allowed me to go from door to door, in costume, yelling, ‘Trick-or-treat!!!!', jostling my way to an open front door to be given my, ‘bribe'... goodies, against potential, ‘tricks'.

 

I chose my own costume, and was very proud of it. I had on a plastic face mask that was held in place by an elastic band over my ears and around the back of my head.

The mask had two, little holes beneath the nostrils to facilitate breathing, and into them I attached a long, black moustache.

I wore a long, black raincoat I had, with my galoshes for shoes. I wore a plastic, black derby, and carried a plastic pumpkin.

That Christmas-before-I had asked for (and had been given) one of those children's, ‘doctor sets', that included a bright red stethoscope, a, ‘doctor's bag', and a bottle of sugar, ‘pills'. And so, I wore the stethoscope around my neck. Somehow, I also managed to carry a grocery bag to collect candy in.

 

And I was set! For that one night, anyway, I was not a nine year old, ‘Zahc', but rather, the nefarious, Dr. S. J. Smith. [I even made up the name!].

 

My mom and dad thought I looked SO cute, that they brought the camera out; and somewhere, lost amid the numerous and ancient family albums is a photograph of me, leaning slightly towards (and, menacingly!) at the camera, holding out my plastic pumpkin.

And oddly-somehow-the personage of Dr. S. J. Smith lingered on for a number of years, as whenever my folks needed a form witnessed, I would scrawl upon it, ‘S. J. Smith, M. D.

And out I went, coming home again, and again so that my dear father could upend the contents of each, nearly-full bag out upon the dining table. And what a cache of treats there were!

 

Little root beer barrels, little grape barrels, toffee, gum, boxes of raisins, the odd candied apple, popcorn balls, home-made cookies, jellybeans by the kilo; and candy corn, candy corn, and more candy corn.

 

Since we lived at Ft. Hood, Texas, and in a duplex on base, there were miles, and miles of sidewalks to cover, not to mention repeat visits to houses that gave out the best stuff!, a veritable mountain of candy quickly formed on our dining room table.

Of course-even in ‘those' days, there were warnings of apples containing razor blades, and of loose stuff being, ‘doctored', with poisons. And so-from that enormous ziggurat of treats-my mother and father discarded anything loose; there went the candied apples, the popcorn balls, the cookies, and the jellybeans! While I wanted to at least try a couple of cookies!

 

Both then until now, I have never been particularly fond of candy, per se, though certainly chocolate has NEVER been a stranger in THIS house!

 

And at Easter, those super, super sweet Cadbury, ‘eggs'...WOW, a guaranteed ‘sugar rush' in every bite! But, my dearest friends, I digress.

However, this general dislike helped to make me more popular than my, ‘geekishness’, would otherwise have conferred as I was the ONLY kid on the block who still had Halloween candy in May!

 

 

Of course, the next year-when I was ten-I was deemed, ‘too old’, to go a trick-or-treating, but--instead--took on the duty of handing of the candy, while my folks mostly just watched TeeVee. Sigh.

 

 

And although that was [gasp!] a little more than fifty years ago, some things--thank God--seem to have remained changeless:

1) The childhood ability to, ‘pretend', to imagine, to don personas as they would socks.

2) The ability to dream, to laugh without self-consciousness. To have fun on an elemental basis.

3) Most importantly--unlike adults--they have retained the ability to, ‘play'.

 

Admittedly, though ideally, children have time to do these things, quite apart from duty and expectation, until such time as they too are expected to don the mantle of responsibility, the, ‘rite', of passage--as it were--in order to become respectable, if predictable, ‘grown-ups'.

 

Though, in the traditions of the Amish community, there is recognized a set time from about age sixteen to marriage known as, "Rumspringa", or, ‘youth period', during which the strict tenets of Amish belief are relaxed, to allow an individual time to, ‘play', or to, ‘blow off a little steam', before having to settle down, start a farm, marry, and have children!

 

Well before the time we become, ‘adults', ‘play', as such, is literally beaten out of us with, 'grown-up', responsibilities, duties, and obligations taking the ascendant.

‘Play' is thought of as wasting time, effort, money, and considered, moreover, to be juvenile, and unproductive. It is even thought--derogatorily so--as being foolish or downright, ‘silly'. And we learn our lessons only too well.

Oh, one might-on occasion-play tennis, golf, or go bowling, etc., these pastimes are actually more like work, as they are ordered, have specific rules, and-in general-involve a decided measure of competitiveness!

 

‘Play' knows no hours, no rules, nor any competition to be thoroughly participated in and enjoyed.

 

I would think that we all would like to be happy, secure, and fulfilled. But in striving to become so, somehow, ‘play' (for the most part), got left out in the rain and sleet.

 

I kindly ask you to consider this: about the only times we as adults ‘play', is on those rare occasions when we frisk-about with our pets, or actually get down on the floor to play with one's children or grandchildren.

And when the grandchildren have left, or gone to sleep, how often have you sat down to really read, "The Cat In The Hat", by Dr. Seuss? Or picked up a couple of crayons and tried to color?

 

Admittedly-then-we NEED to, ‘play'; to, ‘cut loose', to relax, and have fun!

 

And yet, I would propose that we need to consider, ‘play', as a measure of happiness, well-adjustment, and...sense of peace.

 

 

That is—perhaps, why--Halloween is my particular, personal favorite among all recognized, American Holidays.

 

Although it is too frequent among adults, (especially a quality practically buried somewhere in the past) the notion of, ‘play', can still be found, if truly searched for.

 

While I am not particularly recommending that you seat-yourself on the floor of a toy store, and begin playing with trucks, and making, ‘truck sounds' (though about ten years ago, I did just that in a local pharmacy, playing with toy dinosaurs while waiting for a prescription to be filled!

Of course I got stared at. But at that very moment, I found I was laughing, and genuinely having fun! And...I bought four or five toy dinosaurs to bring home! You can certainly start off small.

 

For example, the next time you have to go grocery shopping, pretend that you are someone else.

At the register, assume a different voice, a different body posture. You can be, really, anyone you want from rock star, to historic figure.

 

Do not leave a toy section in a store unexplored. If the mood strikes you, buy a couple of toys for yourself!

 

Try to look at Nature the way a child does, full of colors, changes, magic, and wonderment.

 

We all could use a little childlike, ‘awe', in our lives. Please note that I did not say, ‘childish'.

 

As an adult, you can still carve pumpkin, make Halloween decorations, or have little candles in the shape of funny ghosts or, arched-back black cats, or of little pumpkins and gourds upon which have been drawn, ‘spooky’, grins.

 

None of them need be frightening, or terrifying to elicit (from those who see them), little, ‘bat squeaks’, of surprise and delight.

 

 

And on this upcoming Halloween, as you're standing near the door to, ‘ooh and ah', over each costume while giving out candy, if you simply cannot dress up in character for the evening, at least save some of the best candy you like for you!!!!!!!!!

 

 

I wish for you no pain, or, if it MUST be, then certainly lessened pain, more easily tolerated.  I wish for you (as the days become shorter until December 21^st, or, the Winter Solstice).

 

I wish that you not know want, or despairing, but—rather—have plenty to spare and share!

 

I wish so much for you peaceful and untroubled afternoons.

 

And, as Halloween approaches, I wish for you a measured return to childlike joys, and happiness, surrounded by the ones who love you.

 

And nights of blissful and restorative sleep, watched-over, and kept safe always, by gentle angels.

 

My very, very dearest friends, please know that I think of you so very often, and want you to be well, secure, happy, and able to freely enjoy life.

 

And please, please always know that I love you dearly!

 

 

 'Zahc'/Charles

"The Everyday Hero"

“The Everyday Hero”

 

10/17/13

 

To my always dear, dear friends, and ever-loyal, constant readers,

 

 

“The Everyday Hero”

 

 

We know who they are.

And yet, since they work quietly, out of the public eye, and to often little or no acclaim, they are invisible to us.

 

They are…

 

The many volunteers who work in food banks in communities across the Nation, providing hope, where there was hunger.

 

They are the nurses and staff in Hospices who provide a caring, and loving environment to those in pain at life’s end.

 

They are the councilors, and staff who must often work in secret at Domestic Violence and Abuse shelters, giving abused women, children…and, men a safe refuge, while helping them to begin a new life, free from the evil shackles of abuse and danger.

 

They are the many volunteers who rescue abused and maimed animals, helping to provide needed medical care and foster homes, and permanent placement with loving families.

 

They are the nurses, firefighters, law enforcement officers who labor to save lives and restore health.

 

They are our educators—often working with diminished resources to enliven young (and old!) minds with the joy of learning.

 

All too often, we are too preoccupied with the lives and careers of Hollywood, recording stars, and the transient vagaries of noted sports figures, that we forget who our true heroes are.

 

 

And, what about you, my dear, and precious friends?

 

Every time you send a hug, or write a gladsome, PM’, you are spreading hope and healing.

When you take time to read—and, comment to—diary entries, you give the author a voice, and a sense of meaning and purpose.

 

Whenever you create a thread, or respond to a thread, or reach out to a troubled and despairing newcomer, you send messages of hope, of encouragement, valuable information, and a greater sense of belonging.

 

 

To me, that is also the definition of a daily hero; one who has experienced the pain, the depression, and the despairing without giving up hope.

 

More than that few number who have successfully climbed Mt. Everest, or dropped twenty miles by special parachute above the earth.

Much more than those who have establish Olympic records.  Or started another successful internet enterprise.

 

All you really need do—in my decided estimation—to find an everyday hero…is to stop briefly, to glance in any convenient mirror!

 

I wish so much for you days without pain, without trial, without need, or despair.

I wish for you pleasant days and restful afternoons.

I wish for you to be surrounded by those who truly love you.

And then, I would wish for you nights of restorative and blissful sleep, as always, watched-over, and kept safe by gentle angels.

 

 

Please, please know that I think of you so very often, and, that I love you dearly!

 

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles