Welcome to another new short-story! (As always, head over to InMon for other short fiction from fellow scribes!)
This one’s more departuring (hey, I’m a writer, I’m allowed to mangle the language if I see fit!… or just want a laugh.) from my usual style as well as choice of fiction. Granted this one draws from things personal – past, present and future even maybe – as well as philosophical musings and the life. In the end it’s partly a work of utter fiction and in another sense lives up to a lovely line from playwright and writer, Marsha Norman, who wrote: “Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.”
Makes me wonder what this story says about my soul’s book. What do you think?
In any case, the bottom line is that I hope you enjoy it and that it provokes something within. Cheers folks.
Have you ever had one of those mornings where it seems like everything that could be wrong is in fact so? That the world itself is suffering from a lack of right-ness? That something is missing? I have those all the time…
I wake up to the bellowing of my alarm clock, set to blare usually either “Wake Up” by Rage Against the Machine or some other such track, originally put as such to not just blast the sleep out of my mind but to also get me pumped in the mornings. It doesn’t always work.
The morning countdown begins, as I go through all the motions and niceties, primping myself to fit the mould and walk undisturbed amongst the herd. The brushing, the shaving, ironed shirt and starched trouser and all the rest that goes with it. It’s astounding how much you can do without even actively using your conscious mind – I consider this often whenever I’m caught in the inescapable tidal forces of endless rituals, practices, expected habits and the like that permeate every aspect of the average life; ever enhancing the ranks of the conformed and herd-minded.
Hey, don’t get me wrong! I don’t hate the world, don’t want to end it or overthrow it or even pull a “Fight Club” on it or anything of that nature. But you tell me? Do you, like me, sit in your ride to that same job every morning and consider what has become of your life? Does it gnaw at you that the idealism, the wonder, the lust for life and all the wonder with which we enter this world has either faded to ennui or is just barely keeping it’s head above the bobbing waves of peer and societal pressures?
Maybe it’s just me then I suppose… Ah well, we can’t all save the songs, those wondrous songs that sang in our beings as unspoiled children and kept the fire’s of inquisitiveness and joy burning ceaselessly. I remember of course, as I’m sure do you, what it was to be a child – to be in awe of the world we were blessed with, to want to know everything, to dream the impossible dream no matter what, to be protected, to have our worries and sorrows remedied by simply a heartfelt kind-word and a gentle embrace. People don’t hug enough anymore, not real hugs if you know what I mean, I think it’s the little things like that which make a lot of difference.
But I’m starting to bore you I’d wager, who wants to listen to a purveyor of gloom when there is always something more to come, something to look forward to everyday. Never mind me, just think of me as that sad fellow you might sit next to on a bus or a plane who’s had a hard time and just needs a friendly ear in a life that didn’t provide one and forget about it all by tomorrow.
Here we are then, my stop. The cubicles, conferences and callousness garbed as corporate-caring beckon me forthwith and so must I make my way. Today will pass as any other and I’ll do all that is expected of me without anger or resentment, merely hoping that I was a child and this was a fun-less made-up game and I could escape from pretend-land to another more entertaining one.
Wouldn’t that be great? If you could just step outside the drudgery for a while and live the dream? Honestly? In my less gloomy days I do exactly that and have long been an expert in the highways and by-ways of the day-dream, the wanderlust satisfier. On a good day I will think of all the things I could be doing and plot and plan and slowly work when life allows to hopefully someday see it come true – after all, are not dreams and hope the very corner-stones of the human condition?
In the meantime though, until those dreams truly live, this is what I have and this is what I shall be, because as far as real life is concerned – this is all I’ve ever known. As a parting thought however, the little kid in me would ask you to remember that real life isn’t all it’s made out to be and dreams are a good deal more real that people would have you believe.
Good day and good luck.