Trask Avenue

Note: This was written last year as part of a Big Project held by the terrific folks over at Utata. The premise was to write an essay describing where you lived. You could approach this broad topic anyway you desired. The essay had to be accompanied by three to six original photos which supported the words. I wrote a five part essay. Here’s part two.

dreaming realist

Dreaming Realist
Every morning an alarm crashes into my subconscious like a bus without brakes. I blindly fumble until it is silenced, then lie quietly and stretch, feeling my muscles loosen and noting an occasional pop in my joints. My eyes adjust to the burgeoning light. Acclimation to reality has begun.

Meals must be prepared, bills paid, errands run, deadlines met. When not at work I squeeze in everything else during the remaining hours. This existence is far from unusual and I embrace the responsibilities of daily life, fully appreciative of their importance. Yet…

…I often unexpectedly drift into the ether and plot out extravagant scenarios for my incredible future, a future I don’t especially plan for or consciously work towards. I never consider how these amazing lives will magically materialize, just what I’ll do when they inevitably do.

I picture a bungalow in Kaua’i where blissful mornings lead to lazy afternoons and star-filled evenings. The rich fragrances of hibiscus, birds of paradise, gardenias and orchids waft through the house while the delightful song of the Kaua’i ‘amakihi adds a lilting sweetness to the air. Eyes closed I can almost feel the warm Pacific breeze.

Or I imagine an endless journey across America with nothing more than a serviceable car and enough cash to alleviate any pedestrian concerns about money. I pass through backwater towns where decades lope by unnoticed. I enter great cities (Chicago! San Francisco!) whose pulse bursts through the soles of my boots, races up my legs and slams into my heart like a shot of adrenaline. I embrace the endless majesty of the American West where the sky and horizon are inseparable twins. Time is irrelevant and every dreamy fantasy represents life’s grandest possibilities…

…Until an unwelcome noise – a honking car, a crying child, a breaking glass – slaps me back to reality. It’s jarring, but I am comforted by the knowledge a return to the glorious ether may only be a breath away.

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Part 1: Creative Logician