Local Observation / DREAMY

By Christina Oxenberg

Dreams are how your restless mind fills the boring hours of sleep. Dreams are your own entertainment to cross the bridge to another day, to another cup of energy, one step closer to the grave.

So much of life, reality as the humorless call it, is dreamy and hard to pin down, impossible to understand. Life is unconquerable, and obviously that is the point.

You make a plan and a hurricane blows it all away, for example. You wake up in familiar territory, farmland from your childhood. Streets you bicycled, fields you watched change hands. No longer would they yield potatoes, for you to fill a sack or two and impress the family with purloined dinner. These terrains were sold and soon tamed and houses went up. Erasing traces of farm stands that fronted along the main drag.

A place you love due to familiarity. And for its dreamy beauty. And where you are is a protected turret removed from the sounds of cars. All you hear are roosters and geese and the braying of the hybrid equine collection, as adorable as any string of precious stones. Dreamy as it fades to black.