I am happy to tell you a new story
about I was dead in a dream
(If you know me, you know my light is on sometimes until three in the morning)
Wait! Don’t let this turn you off!
There is a point to this other than dying…
I was pissed off with god.
(in my dream)
I mean GOD.
The one who did all this stuff.
And, I was goanna have a good talking to him.
It never happened because believe it or not, even though it appears you have
free choice (and you do, in a way) he runs the show.
(he made the show, he made all the rules, he calls the shots, you would want to be the boss of it, too. I know I would. I am a control freak, how bout’ you? Isn’t that our problem?
Well, we know we can’t control anyone or anything cept’ ourselves…)
So, you have to take a number and wait your turn.
I mean, to have your ‘good talkin’ to him.
But, it was kind of my own
experience where it was just ‘tough,’
that’s just the way it is.
Because, when you do die, game over, it’s too late, it’s said and done,
and you have arrived because you got your key to that lock they put in your hand.
I was ‘invisible’ and I was mad as hell. But, it didn’t do me any good
except to frustrate me…
When you look for an answer, often, nothing’s clear. You don’t find a message until you look for one, and then you see it. It’s not paranoia, where you make it all up in your own silly head
It’s the paradox of Schrödinger’s cat in the box with the poison. Welcome to the world of Quantum Physics. You don’t know if the cat is dead or alive until you take the top off the box and look. Kind of a cruel hypothetical experiment, if you ask me, since I am an avid cat lover! I hold my mental banner up in protest despite no one caring and no one seeing
So, my friend, I promised you I would get to it. My story begins with my Nintendo Wii control not working right. The pointer hand won’t show up on my TV. Exhausting all combination of possibilities, I decided to visit Nintendo support and looked it up and narrowed the problem down. To make it short; a piece of scotch tape solved the perplexing problem by sticking to and blotting where the infrared signal came out of my white hand control and cleaned up the contamination there. Never would have figured that one out in a million years on my own. Yes, it was a logical solution, because I tried all other remedies they offered except this one. Nothing else worked. It was my last choice. And, I said to myself ‘No, this can’t work!’ And, I didn’t believe it worked, even when it did work.
I was truly flabbergasted that a smudged fingerprint was the fly in the ointment
stopping all my fun messin’ up my mind.
Now, the kids have come home as adults to live with us for one reason or another (which is a whole new story in itself)
Take note of this below for future reference
Dreams are forgotten like this life will be once you are gone. Sorry, that’s how it works.
You forget everything, and then you start over. You will have to talk to
‘him’ about it if you keep having that problem of having your own way about
To continue, I woke up and knew I was given another chance at another day of the
Thing we call living in the real world of men and machines.
Obviously, if I own and play around with a Nintendo Wii, I lag (more than) ten years behind current technology (You just have to take a quick look at my caveman cellphone. I am on the cheap plan. I text my wife. Why? I can talk to her in person all I want! I am retired, you know. I am trying my best to act like I am.) But, it brings me my Youtube and my Angry Birds. It does the job and essentially, that’s all that concerns me at the moment. There is
a new phone in the future. Of course, handed down to me by one of my wife’s kids, as
they always just seem to have to have all the current updated technology and pay top dollar for it while I wait to get all the outdated hand me downs no one wants anymore.
It saves me money. I can wait.
Where was I?
OK. God won’t get pissed I ran off with my mouth (here.) It’s simply because you probably won’t believe what I say, anyway. That’s a good thing. Be skeptical, yet open-minded. Believe in your own experience as it presents itself (or don’t. See if I care. Well, I do. But, it’s your own business, unless you want to write a poem about it and make it public…)
Now, you can finally
See, My home is over there, on the other side of the road.
I just thought you should know that
you and I live in the same neighborhood.
Aren’t you happy you have me to talk to
and reason things out.
We are neighbors.
Visit me around lunch time.
A sandwich (or, two) will work.
Oh, and don’t forget to bring some chocolate milk.
That’s my favorite addiction.