This is not a dream

Originally published on April 27, 2017

You can make believe for quite a while, make believe that something is better than it is, or worse. You can make yourself believe in something so deeply that it saves you, or carried you under with it's weight in fallacy. You have to believe in some things, in dreams, for them to happen. It isn't quite like I learned as a child, that every imagined world exists, in the utter infinity of the cosmos, although that isnt far off. No, instead it is that every world ever imagined within the cosmos does in fact exist within you, and belief is the conduit and the barrier to those planes of being. 

 Dream a little dream.

We dreamed, and believed, and somehow, manifested this world coming together quickly, truly, and swiftly. 

US Highway 101. I have a shot-glass with that logo somewhere, in the bathroom maybe with q tips in it. Now, that's going to be the home address. The United States Highway going from the Canadian Border to the edge of Mexico; crossing all three weed legal, west coast surfing, grow your own spirited, hippie dippie states...my street. My road. I suppose it really rounds you back to the point that you own far less than you assume to. 

We're making the offer today. For less than I was worried we would have to find in the future, how funny the world works. So scared one day, so relieved the next. So little space for normalcy in the midst of the shores pulling my heart. 

Two hours, each way. It's bad, but it isn't the worst thing. And it means lots of time to catch up on listening. I think it might be time to explore the world outside my comfort zones and general preferences. Plus, more incentive to find a job once season ends. Now...we go go go. Sleep at the parents house, shuttle the dog back and forth, drive around the horn at 2 am, and catch sunrise over the water while dinner beeps in the microwave with the birds, do it again and figure out where the light at the end of the tunnel is going to come from before the darkness creeps past your ankles.

There's so much to do; find a cold water wetsuit, figure out how to drive a boat, get over the feeling of wet kelp sticking to my skin, determine whether I will die if i touch mussels regularly.

I want to sleep - this is overwhelming. But I can't believe that it's real. It's really real. And it's happening to us. 

Today we sign, tomorrow we wait, and soon we know.