Kaleidescope (# 979)

21 08 2014

1. (Apologies: this needs to be rewrittten but may not be time) Dreaming. A good amount of the one side of the street was part of our play area. We rarely moved beyond the button mill. A fire plug at the side of the steps closest to our house was the seat to our sheriff’s office. Beyond the button mill, a wrought iron fence, with a hedge behind it, ran the rest of the way down the street. The fence enclosed a grassy garden that was used as a parking area on Sundays for our church. Our church was beyond, a welcoming place. A bigger, more elaborate, church was across our street. Architecturally it had it all over ours but we were inclined not to notice. It had a school yard and the nuns would chase us occasionally when our wall ball game got too annoying for them. I become aware of how our own prejudices, or own way of looking, change the view of things and I am able to look at our church as an outsider. I continue and go on the Fifth Street bridge over the railroad. It dawns on me that Sixth Street goes under the railroad. So the diagonal street goes downhill. Funny, I always think of the city as being flat. Now I can picture the hill down.

I get stuck on this time in many of my dreams. I think it is because I am still piecing together the snippets. As a child we smell the roses, so to speak. As an adult we see the bigger picture and often miss what is in them. Music usually takes me back to a different time, my teenage years. Each generation seems to have a musical time they prefer.

2. I am alive. That is enough, isn’t it?

3. gr. yes!

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