Jerry woke up. It was a beautiful Saturday morning. He took a walk outside and marveled at the beauty of nature. As he was walking he took in the sights and sounds of the morning. As he was walking he took in a breath of fresh air, and stretched his arms in a vain attempt to grab the beautiful, vast blue skies. Life was good. Jerry chuckled to himself as he witnessed the playful antics of two frolicking squirrels. He hummed a song he learned in his youth as he walked at a leisurely pace back home. He stared, wide-eyed as a young child in a toy store as he watched a mother bird feeding her young in a nearby tree. As he approached his house, Jerry took a good, long look around. He took in another deep breath of the cool morning air and exhaled. He smiled. Life was good....

Jerry woke up to the sound of an elderly woman screaming. It was a horribly cold winter morning. The window was open, but Jerry could not get up to close it. He was born with a disease that crippled his arms and legs in his youth. Jerry wished he could go back to sleep. At 17 years of age, he was currently taking classes for the disabled at the local hospital. His parents had abandoned him at age 2, and his foster parents gave up on him soon after they learned of his impairment. He was alone in the world, and he knew it. Jerry never gave up hope, though, because there was a place where he could do anything. A place where he could be accepted. In his dreams, Jerry could walk with closed eyes.

Dreams are one of the most powerful influences on human beings. The average American will spend 20 years of their life sleeping, and much of that consists of dreams. Most people do not remember the full extent of their dreams, but they are an entire seperate reality from "the real world". In dreams, there are no rules, there are no limitations. Dreams are the magnificent world where there is no world hunger. People aren't dying of AIDS. There are no blind, no lame, no crippled, no disease. No death. And we spend 20 years of our life here. Where we all walk with closed eyes.

It is like holding your breath. How long you can go before it is necessary to surface for air, regain footing and context. Something is lost innate to sand in uniform perfect cold concrete small debris and painted lines sometimes your eyes tell you a lot. Sometimes they help you miss everything.

It is a way to detach from the ground, the world around me. Close in kind to laying in wide empty farmland fields and soaking in nothing but dark sky and stars, no city lights trees sound or buildings edging in. One of nothing and everything all. So it is nice to move at the same time, stepping slowly against cutting salt ocean cold which tangles around trying to get inside. In the afternoon sun crossing expanses of shimmering green grass the sun plays shadows and sort of shines through closed eyelids in orangey reds, everything feels good, softer. Everything drops away except trust, in yourself and the world. I need this from time to time, just facing forwards and moving kind of slow.

It is like holding your breath, it is like walking around staring up at the sky, only better.
Halfway to dream, in and out of sun and walking like serenity, like perfect stride and poise. Half a degree removed, if I slit my eyes open it may all turn out to be on a big screen in front of me, or a page that I am about to turn.

Still I am walking as though I can navigate the streets blind: ears arms shadows light forming my boundaries. Because smiling at my thoughts might steer me to where I need to go. Like a magnet, steady sure (slow) surging to target. If I keep walking, eyes closed and hands in front of me, I will make it home to you smiling.

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