I wax philosophical....

Its Superbowl Sinday (sic) and I went over to Candy's with that chocolate cake, and the pita chips, hummus, Groudhog Day and Sleepless in Seattle. She added fresh fruit, red zinfandel and various crackers and dips. Neither of us had eaten all day, so that is what we proceeded to do. Eat and watch Groundhog Day. And eat. And did I mention we noshed? Then we snacked. Then we finished the food orgy with a thick slice of that chocolate cake (which tasted so good that it had to be very, very bad). I gulped the remains of my wineglass and gathered my stuff after the movie was over. I was clearly dazed and in a chocolate-induced hallucination all the way home. I fed the animals and let the dog out, then thought I would just *lay down for a second* on my bed. I woke from a vivid dream about 40 minutes later. Great. There goes my night. But I didnt care because the dream was marvelous...

In the dream I was a passenger in a van, down in The Inner City. Streets I knew. Dirty streets. Mean streets. I didnt feel lost or panicky in the dream. There was a familiar corner gas station where everyone in the hood hangs out. I got out of the van and began walking toward the gas station, the only white woman in eyesight. But still I felt totally at ease. Like we all knew each other and had immunity to anything bad happening. Then it began to rain. No one seemed to notice. And it didnt stop til the streets ran like rivers and all the folks stopped everything they were doing, and splashed and played in the (now) hip-high water. Happy children yelled and tried to run faster than the kid next to him, fat black ladies waddled and exclaimed "Oh Lord," hurrying, wading to find higher ground but giggling, and young guys stripped off their shirts, replaced their scowls with toothy broad smiles, and strutted through the waves, heads held high--no anger in their eyes. The water was warm, moving, and murky, but no one seemed to care. Someone passed me a foreign-looking slice of fruit and I bit into it. It was sweet and slick, like the flesh of a ripe peach.
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I woke up and marveled at the beauty and detail in that dream. Detroit, as I have never known it, but how I always wished it could be. A long time ago in college, an intelligent, but haughty girl called me a 'visionary' after hearing my presentation. She meant it as an insult. I took it as a compliment. I dont pretend to understand dreams and I dont give them much credence. I'm not one for magical thinking but I like to believe that dreams are trying to tell us something. The lack of fear mirrors my determination to conquer this move with a bold attitude; fear is a choice. The moving water, warm but murky seemed to represent cleansing by force--- I must de-clutter this house, de-clutter my life and break a few ties to this place. Something clean and new lies underneath but I cant see it just yet. I dont recognize the fruit, but I am willing to take a bite. And I think Arkansas is going to be sweet.