So Real and So True

When we pass each other in the halls, sometimes we teachers, as most folks do, ask each other how its going. You know, a time honored way of acknowledging each others' being as we move through the atmosphere. Sometimes, we might respond, "Living the dream!" Of course, we are being facetious, to some extent, right? Is this the dream? Is this the life we imagined for ourselves? I guess it depends.

As a young child, if you asked me my dream, I suppose it would most likely have involved being a pirate captain. Nowadays, except for a relatively small and remote part of the globe, just off of the eastern coast of Africa, piracy is a pretty dead career choice. Okay, in any time period and any place, piracy was a pretty dead career choice. Literally. But, let us continue.

As a youngster, my idea of piracy was Captain Hook, and Treasure Island. A Romantic version of pirates, with sailing ships and cannon balls, grape shot and crow's nests, and navigating by dead reckoning and the starry night sky--with a few sword fights thrown in. That most definitely is a "ship on the horizon" dream in every way. The dreamer is never going to get there.

As I grew older, my late teens, my dreams shifted from pirates to science. But, still, I remained at sea; my dream became a career in marine biology. Okay, wait--that's wrong. My actual dream involved living on a South Pacific island (preferably one that hadn't been nuked, but I wouldn't be too picky), eating fish and crab everyday and playing guitar around a beach campfire every night. I'd live in a modest little wooden shack. I'd drink water from a stream. I'd have a dog. I never imagined other people there. Go figure, a recluse's dream. And, most certainly, another "horizon" dream. More possible than piracy, perhaps, but still pretty impractical. The marine biology thing was probably just a fall back.

But, as most of you know, any dream of the sea was an impossibility for me, due to my inability to keep myself from getting ill once I leave solid ground. Boy, is that just an ironic tragedy? Or, maybe, just more of life's absurdity. (Cue the circus music and enter Pere Ubu.)

But how did I get from there to here? How does anybody? Follow point A to point B and repeat...and here I am. Does it have anything to do with dreams? Only insomuch (which could be all) as de la Barca posited. Life is the dream. Or a dream among many possible dreams. Which gets me to thinking about the multiverse. So, I am going to stop now.

Sweet dreams.