That’s a weird statement. Don’t we all dream when we sleep? When I was younger my dreams long or my dreams were often detailed stories and fantasy worlds of mystery and weirdness. Dreaming is part of in part the reason I wanted to be a writer.
My uncle and family would often get tired of listening to me tell a long was dream about rope bridge cities that lead to dystopian roaring 1920’s city state countries.
It was part having a wild imagination as kid and part reading stories often.
But, I spent 2020 in a daze of dark daylight nightmares. I kept having the same dream and I wished I could dream something else. Then I couldn’t dream at all until recently.
It might be because I’m reading more again. I really did miss reading books. It’s still the best entertainment value of these modern times of a confederation of dunuces.
I really do mean it. Woe. I’m having a passing thought for these strange times of the sparkle of the West has lost it’s shine it seems for the moment.
I ponder. I weigh the decisions and immortality of a generation long sense loss to its own hubris. I am lost in thought. For every boomer that rides a motorcycle and points a finger at the X,Y and Z generations that have suffered from their decisions and laughter at out how poor we are and how great they are…I am watchful.
I contemplate their hour. I have dreams of peaceful sleep for the less voiceful ones and few gems. My grandma was one. She wasn’t perfect but she accepted me for who I am and was truthful with me. She believed in me and my dreams. But, for the jackasses that laugh at us that did no part to help us. Worse yet they think they have a right to put us down or judge us and show off their wealth and selfish living. I have a dream. I have a dream of a pillow and a not so peaceful sleep.
You weren’t the greatest generation boomer. You are bunch of selfish assholes that ride motorcycles. The day of the pillow is coming.