Misfire
By ice rivers
- 326 reads
The outstanding recurrent mechanism within my dreams has to do with my camera. Like all of us, my dreams are overloaded with spectacular vistas, unbelievable confirmations of unsolvable mysteries, humans of breathtaking and grotesque beauty, animals beyond conscious imagination, unrequited love and lovers, visit from my mother and father and relatives and friends who have passed away, flop sweat while teaching, glorious moments of victory, playing on the Yankees and getting loaded with Dylan on and on.
In everyone of these situations say perhaps the "getting loaded with Dylan", I ask permission to take a picture to bring this whole thing back into the other world as "proof" that me and Zimmy chill and as usual Bobby says "sure" but gives me that kind of sheepish look that somebody gives you when they know that you;ve got a good idea but you don't have the skill to pull off and you're gonna screw the idea up.. I put Bobby in focus. He looks great. He looks real no fake smile just completely natural and relaxed in the presence of his dear friend. The friend is me and I've got my camera. I count one...two...three....and snap.
And the camera doesn't work
I realize it's a dream.
It's happened hundreds of times before and will happen hundreds of times again. This is merely the latest.
I'm disappointed.
I wake up.
This mechanism does have its upside though.
Perhaps in my dreams I'm being pursued by monsters like envy or sloth or lust or greed or gluttony or jealousy, I know how to handle them. I stop. I turn around and just before my nonteenth nervous breakdown, I click my camera. It doesn't work so I'm relieved to find out that the whole pusuit was just another bad dream
Yesterday, during the pandemic, I took out my camera and shot a bunch of picture. They all came out beautifully. The camera worked, The pandemic is real.
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