Friday’s Wandering Thought

Amazon Marketing was either housed a low level of intelligence or a superior sense of irony and humor. He liked researching things on Amazon. It was the best reason for the site’s existence. Once he finished his research, he usually bought things elsewhere. Say, 9 out of 10 times. But after a few days, Amazon inevitably sent him an email featuring the thing he’d researched, proclaiming, “We found something you might like.” Yeah, you think that, Amazon? Do you think I’ll like it because it was what I was looking at on your site two days ago?

Yes, either impressively stupid or outrageously ironic and funny.

The Paths

The children bellowed into the coffee shop on a wall of sounds and cliques, styles varying sharply among them all, a mélange of current youth culture. Their ages escaped him – anywhere from fifth grade to eight or ninth, he thought.  Several schools surrounded the coffee shop so it wasn’t impossible. Except, few of them seemed like young adults. No, these were children.

His study flicked through them, trying to glimpse their futures. Not the close history, no, but what they’ll be in thirty, forty, fifty years. No more possible for him to see in them than he’d seen in his friends. Few followed predicted paths. Surprises, disappointments, successes and failures too often changed the paths.

Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

Monday morning. 6:15 AM. She awoke to an alarm. Her phone. Yes, time to get up and go to exercise class.

But there was no class today. She could sleep in. She found the phone to turn it off.

The phone was already off.

The alarm had stopped.

Must have been her beautiful mind trying to take care of her.

Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

She entered the coffee shop, stopping by the door to peruse her phone. She resembled his younger sister so much that he studied her in depth, thinking of the similarities. Then, he realized, he wasn’t thinking of his sister as she now was, mother to two teenagers, but she’d been, fresh faced out of high school, so young and pretty.

Cat Lessons

My cat lessons with Papi are going well. Papi doesn’t generally meow. He doesn’t use two syllables. He barks, more like a seal than a cat. With out training, whenever he barks his mew, I immediately stand and respond, “Yes, sir, what may I do for you?”

I’d say I’m almost ready to graduate from my training.

Monday’s Wandering Thought

A customer was ahead of him in the coffee shop. As he waited for his turn, he began writing in his head. Phantom writing, some call it. The main character had apparently awakened and had a lot to say about who he was and what was going on.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” the barista asked.

Panic. Where was he? Oh, yeah, coffee shop. What did he want? Coffee! He stammered out his order and then apologized, explaining, “Sorry, I was off in another world.”

That comment cracked him up.

Wonder if the baristas think him a little odd?

Sunday’s Wandering Thought

After days of sunshine and warm air, it’s cloudy today. Sunshine can barely get anything in edgewise. Only 62 F, it feels amazingly cold. Fascinating how the body acclimates so quickly with the warmth, forcing it to struggle when it gets ‘chilly’. It’s all part of the theory of relativity of feeling warm.

Just In A Dream

Another hill to climb.

Sweat plagued his eyes. He sniffed and swallowed, wishing for water. He’d been going since sunup. Heat and humility built around him. It seemed determined to crush him like a grape.

Giving up was considered and dismissed. He was here and going to do it. Doubt about whether he was following the instructions kept bouncing through, confusing him about what the little thing told him. Half-asleep, he wasn’t sure if it was a robot, tiny human, or something else, like an elf or fairy. They hadn’t introduced themselves. Maybe it wasn’t even real. Just his imagination.

Without preamble, “Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me)” derailed his thinking. Didn’t matter. He’d reached the hill’s crest. Signposts were ahead. An intersection. Down this hill and up another. Stepping faster, he was there in less than ten minutes, perspiring with more vigor, and breathless. He didn’t think he’d need water for this. Not for a dream. Didn’t think it’d be sunny, or like a day in any way.

The signpost was in the center of a large gold-bricked circle. Arrow shaped signs. About a hundred of them. No, more than that. Maybe a thousand. Different colors, languages, and printing styles. Looked crude. Homemade.   

His little nocturnal visitor sounded like an irritated teacher when they said, “I’m tired of you sitting around, whining, waiting, and wishing, so I’m doing you a solid.”

They pointed. “See that?”

Slow because he was half-asleep, he pressed to see what the little one meant even though the little one was still talking. “Get in there and turn left for the past, right for the future, or straight ahead to another existence. Whichever way you go, you’ll come to a signpost.

“You better hurry if you’re going to do it. The portal will close and fade, and your opportunity will be gone.”

“Wait, what?” He sat up. Yawned. Stretched. Rubbed his eyes. Massaged his genitals. Considered peeing. Frowned. “What?”

His small visitor was barely a fading memory. The opening remained where there was usually a wall. A portal? Thinking, I must still be dreaming and I’ll wake up at any moment, he entered the opening. Fearing the future, regretting his past – too many things to change there and who knows how it would turn out – he’d gone straight.

He stared up at the signs. Words emerged. Animals.

A frown creased his face. What was that about? He’d always liked cats and they liked him. He admired birds. Dogs were okay…

He stepped in the cat’s direction with slow, short steps. Shivers tickled him. Changes took place. His fingers were gone. Paws halfway through construction had replaced them. Looked like he’d be a black cat.

He backed up. More shivers traveling him, his fingers returned.

Did he want to be a cat? He looked back down the road he’d followed to come here with the thought, maybe he should have gone to the past to see what he could have changed. He might have been hasty.

The road was gone. Nothing was there. Gray nothing.

He walked toward it. The gray nothing stopped him from advancing. Like trying to wade through stiffening tar.

Well, what the hell. This was only a dream.

He turned back to the sign and read the offerings. No doubt, that’s what they were. Unicorn. Whale. Elephant. Dog. Kracken. Dolphin.

Dragon, he saw.

Dragon. It’d be so cool to be a dragon, even if just in a dream.

But bravery wasn’t in his personal inventory. He stood, staring, considering, flounder, eel, coral snake, eagle – eagle would be fun. Puma. Tiger. Heron. Emu. Alligator.

No. With all of his fears and hopes, the best thing he could become is something fantastic.

Happy with his decision, he turned and advanced, shivering and coughing as he grew and changed until at last he walked out of a high mountain cave into a purple dusk. Spreading his golden wings, he released a fiery roar and felt the world’s fear. Yes, being a dragon was going to be so cool.

Even if it was just in a dream.

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