I told a customer at work
that I had a dream where one of my many bosses at work (I am a cashier) told me
that our chip-reader for credit cards was working. There was a celebration in the dream that was
parallel to how I would feel in real life. Our chip readers haven’t started to
work yet; we have the hardware, just not the software.
This post comes from the
encouragement and bright inspiration from a lady friend of mine who I use to
work with (abCly). In my life, I romanticize the past with so much zeal I could make
worthwhile projects from thousands of past moments. This woman—who I will keep
nameless—but who deserves full recognition, is an epic poem of my life
reflection.
I told the customer about
my dream and he joked off that my dream was a bad one (because people think
what I do sucks and any dream that relates to what I do is near a nightmare). I
pleaded to differ. I have had nightmares that made me wake up because I couldn’t
stay in them any longer, and when I woke up, I couldn’t go back to sleep; that is
the worst, but actual.
For the sake of the
unnamed inspiration that I am writing this for, I will go into the worst of my
nightmares. I had a relationship in high school that I don’t mean to credit
anymore than it deserves but will paint the full emotion of what I pang from in
the dark hours of an early morning after I awake from the nightmare.
She and I were closer
than I give myself credit in competence to construct, though I take responsibility
for our relational decay, there was a silver lining that I may feel wed to for
time to come. (I brag in that for the art to come). I dream about the girl
sometimes, and only as it was in the best of our relationship. The scenes I
dream up soften my heart to pillowcase tears in the morning (that happened once
or twice). One of the times I could extract a thousand words for Clover that arc’d my main character in a
way I was desperate to conjure.
In a conclusion fit for
the sole audience I wrote this for, I wanted to accentuate the strokes that
illustrate a fleeting part of us (as is most of us) to come upon once more
before we forgot any longer. I have nightmares that inspire me and in all
things I have still found life and can boast on that accord in short. Without a
neat conclusion, I decorate your imagination to know I care for your heart and
hope to have a further place in your life.
With love.
