A humble reprise

Today as I walked Ft. Lauderdale Beach Boulevard I listened to the breeze. The breeze through the palms and the cypress trees sounded as if the trees were whispering to me. Other than an occasional car or person along the way the only audible sound was that of the waves in the distance.

FT. Lauderdale Beach 10/27/2020

In my solitude I couldn’t help but to continue my reflections of yesterday. I couldn’t help but to feel a bit of shame for some of the superficialities easily associated with some of the dreams. From that feeling I must take it to the next level. For me that next level must be to find some humility. I find humility through gratitude and learning.

First I must forgive myself for being human. Being human I have ego. Having ego I can look for security, or assurance, through attention. Needing attention I can gravitate toward the shallow and superficial.

For the most part my dreams have been realized and are still being realized, but I have never gotten them on my own. I’ve had help, direction, inspiration, support, love and generosity along my path. My gratitude for these gifts is deep and genuine.

I’ve been blessed to learn that the truly meaningful and fulfilling realized dreams are most often the simplest of all. The kiss of a newly rescued dog, the smile from a newborn niece, a reassuring glance from my husband, a hug from a friend, a tear wiped away by a co-worker over a seemingly devastating mistake, a smile from a stranger let into traffic and the laughter of a group of friends enjoying the simple telling of a humorous story.

You, yes you dear reader, are a blessing to me. My hope is that one person is touched in some positive way by this post and my dream for today will have been fulfilled.

Boulevard of Realized Dreams

Back in 1984 there was a rather popular poster of Gottfried Helnwein’s interpretation of Edward Hoppers iconic Nighthawks. In it Helnwein replaced Hopper’s characters with Humphrey Bogart, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean and Elvis Presley. The poster was titled Boulevard of Broken Dreams.

Boulevard of Broken Dreams – Gottfried Helnwein – 1984

Nighthawks – Edward Hopper – 1942

Earlier today as I strolled along the A1A, aka Ft. Lauderdale Beach Boulevard, I was taken back to my first trip to this special place. I was but a young gay buck of 20ish years in that year of 1984. The world was my apple and I was taking my first bite of it.

Oh the dreams I dreamt as we cruised the crowded street along the beautiful beach. Expensive cars, beautiful bodies, palm trees, sea, sand, luxury condos, stylish clothes, designer glasses, garish jewelry, massive yachts, love, sex, endless nights of dancing & debauchery, exotic vacations and an openly gay lifestyle. Shallow I know, but youth and inexperience often allows young gay bucks like I was to be led astray into dreams of superficiality.

Yes those dreams all flooded back into my memory as I strolled this beautiful boulevard.

Ft. Lauderdale Beach Boulevard 10/26/2020

I can honestly say that I’ve never experienced this stretch of road and beach so empty of human activities in all the 100s of times I’ve strolled it. If there is any silver lining to Covid at all it’s the ability to experience such a moment at 11 am and 82 degrees F with a nice breeze. Such a quiet moment allows one to remember, contemplate and to dream.

Helnwein‘s interpretation of Hopper’s famous painting always gave me the empty lonely feeling of lives cut short and dreams not realized. Feelings of disappointment, loss, loneliness and sadness. As I strolled this empty stretch of typically busy avenues, I realized just how many of my 1984 dreams I’ve realized over the more than 30 years that have a passed. As I acknowledged my dreams, I started to sense how many of the dreams of those four souls in Helnwein’s interpretation had actually realized. Lives may have been cut short, tragedy may have struck, but dreams were realized and did come true for each and every one of them. My feelings about that poster which was so prevalent in 1984 shifted.

I never owned a copy of Hoppers painting nor of Helnwein’s poster. I did, however, own a copy of Michael Bedard’s interpretation of Helnwein’s interpretation. Bedard’s is entitled Window Shopping.

Window Shopping – Michael Bedard – 1989

Reflection of the 20ish boy’s somewhat shallow dreams as I strolled this morning revealed that the sheltered boy from small town Virginia has traveled the world, danced the night away on the open decks of cruise ships, met and conversed with rich and powerful people, lived and owned luxury & investment properties – even right here on this very  Ft Lauderdale beach – in various cities, found love that has even celebrated a 30 year anniversary, sex-lots of sex, lives an openly gay life as a married gay man with a husband, has owned expensive cars, worn designer clothes, has had and experienced beautiful bodies, can see the Pacific Ocean from his very own house including from it’s newly constructed guest apartment in his back yard, has a beautiful and growing family of nieces and nephews, has made lifelong friendships that deepened beyond that ever imagined, has a fulfilling career, rescues dogs, is a philanthropist, has owned loved captained and since sold his very own yacht, has the blessing of bringing his mother to live out her golden years with him as he is blessed with the ability to care for her, owns expensive beautiful art, is blessed with the talents to actually paint beautiful art, has some expensive watches and wears a Platinum Tiffany wedding band on his left hand, grows beautiful flowers in his yard, has been a drunk and found sobriety, helps his neighbors, is currently sitting sans clothing by a swimming pool in Ft. Lauderdale on this 84 degree afternoon, so many dreams…many more… the dreams keep coming true.

Material and meaningful dreams really do come true.

Dare to dream.

What dreams have you realized?

Nightmare

One of my issues with nightmares is that I cannot scream. I’m left defenseless in alerting anyone within hearing distance that I’m in distress. It is impossible for me to call for help as I’m only able to muster an almost inaudible whine or moan. All the while the terror continues and I’m trapped unable to vocalize or alert anyone.

Last night was another one of those moments. I was laying on my back with my hands clasp across my abdomen in a wonderful slumber when I was awakened, in my dream, by an alien the size of my hand landing on the back of it. It was the right hand as it was clasp on top of the left. The alien immediately started injecting venom into the back of my hand through quills extending out of its small body. The alien had control of my hand and I could not move it. The pain was minimal the paralysis frightening.

Once again I couldn’t scream but only make a faint moan while trying to yell for help. I tried and tried to squirm away and finally from my struggle I was able to make a slight movement as I woke up with a slightly audible whimper. Needless to say getting back to sleep, once I realized that my recent vivid experience was but another nightmare, was not an easy task. My adrenaline was flowing and even though there was nothing on the back of my hand, fear was present.

Fear that next time I need help I will not be able to vocalize my need. Fear that I’ll be paralyzed. Fear that what I had just experienced was actually real.

A dream

As a young teenage boy I dreamed. I also feared.

I feared that my dream of being able to be part of the late 1970s Castro Street Gay Scene in San Fransisco wouldn’t ever come to fruition. Still I dreamed and I hoped I would be part of it one day.

The 1980s came and I came out, graduated from high school then started college. I still dreamed. Then an epidemic spread and gay men were dying. Not only dying but dropping like flies of horrific painful deaths. The AIDS epidemic had started in San Fransisco and New York. My dream dimmed, flickered and died out.

Gay society, as it had evolved, died along with the casualties of 100’s of thousands of men in the prime of their life. Or so it seemed.

Life in my hometown isolated away from the gay epicenters became safe. California was far away. I had never been and thus made no plans to go.

Later on life would take another path and California would become my home. San Fransisco and L.A would become my playgrounds just north of my San Diego home. However this post isn’t about that turn of events and eventual blessings. This post is about a lifestyle from a part of history.

My understanding of it is that in the late 1960s, before my childhood memory kicks into consistency, San Fransisco became a social experiment. It became a place of refuge, expression, dissonance, art, rebellion, experimentation and change. Born of this era the later 1970’s sexual revolution would allow gay lifestyle to flourish, especially in San Fransisco. It was this 1960s era in this enlightened place that would change minds and broaden the potential of a society that was to come.

Today I stumbled upon this historical clip. At this moment I pause, reflect and feel gratitude for those who expressed themselves. Expressed themselves not only so they could live an open honest authentic life, but that others may follow their newly emblazoned path.

Their path helped us get to where we are today. May their path also help us to continue and go to many new, better and brighter places in our future.

Never loose sight. Never stop dreaming. Don’t ever loose hope. Start by enlightening yourself, then those around yourself.

Family

We are blessed. We have two families. The one we were born into and the one we choose.

Our natal families folded into one larger family after we settled into our life together. I into The Better Half’s, he into mine and ours into each other. This made for one big family that blessed us even more.

Living away from our family for many years allowed us to choose a chosen family of good friends who care and love each other as if we had always been and will continue to be. This family is large and blesses our home with more than 30 holiday celebrants each and every Christmas Day. Our blessing overflows.

Our friends extend beyond or natal family and our chosen family into our work, interests, neighbors, bloggers, vacation acquaintances and just plain old good friends who live both near and far. Our bounty of blessings humble us.

Love, respect and sincerity are the basis of this blessing we call family.

This most recent trip filled our cup. I met with two blog buddies for a wonderful dinner. Unfortunately the third wasn’t able to join due to an illness but we sent our love to him in hopes that better days lie ahead. We, the better half & I, then set off via Amtrack to New York with part of my natal family for one of those experiences that money could never buy (but definitely helps with😉).

You see after the loss of my father I asked my mother, who had been caring for him, where had she always wanted to go. She said New York to see The Rockettes. That was her dream. Not Paris, not London, not even Hawaii. I promised her then that we would take her to New York. It took two years and she lost her oldest son before it happened, but it happened. We made a family trip out of it with Mom, me, The Better Half, my brother, sister-in-law, niece, her husband, two great grandchildren and a nephew.

Family

Nothing, no nothing will ever mean as much to me as my mother grabbing my hand after the curtain fell at the end of The Rockettes Christmas Spectacular as tears streamed down her face as she said “I have never seen anything so beautiful!” They exceeded her expectations and believe me she had high expectations.

For her to have her family with her on a trip she had only dreamed of all of her life, a dream she probably thought would never come to be, was truly a dream come true. I cannot express my gratitude for the blessing that that moment, my family and life truly is.

The moral of this post, at least for me, is that this is our one life, so live it, love it, share it, and give it. Give it to your natal family, or your chosen family, or both. Give it to someone you meet, you work with, you run into or even to someone you don’t know at all. Give a smile, share a laugh, respect, understand, forgive, serve and most of all love. Just love.

Entering Macy’s Herald Square entrance during the debut moment of holiday decorations.

The employees lined the side of the aisle and cheered us as we entered the store, Stunning

Lady Liberty

911 Memorial, -emotional-

Fearsome Photobombing in Time Square

Sightseeing under Lady Liberty

3rd row Center Stage at Radio City

Santa

The Rockettes

Up front and close enough to see their smiles!

From 5 to 85, New York is fabulous, family makes it even better!

Toe Tappin’ Tune

This’ll get our weekend started!

1984 Jocelyn Brown Somebody Else’s Guy

1984…I couldn’t even legally buy liquor. My friend Kiki kept asking me to shave off young Fearsome because she liked my chin. I could be found every Friday, Saturday and Sunday evening on the dance floor at my local gay disco, The Park. I was in an on and off again relationship with my first lover (usually off was with “somebody’s else’s” guy…sometimes the “somebody else” was another guy and sometimes a woman). I was an aerobics instructor and I made my first ever trip to Ft. Lauderdale Florida.

While criusing the A1A along the beach in Ft Lauderdale and listening to this very tune, in a black T-Top Trans Am mind you, I remember looking at the ocean front condo buildings thinking “My, those people must be rich”. Today we own a couple of those very condos.

Dreams, they really do come true.

The tune still makes me dance. Enjoy!

When you find yourself stuck in traffic…

…get out and dance!

It’s no secret that La La Land was our Fearsome pick for best picture of 2017. We’ve written about it HERE and THERE.

To me the opening scene was one of Hollywood histories best ever openings and one of  the best ever musical numbers. Why yes I think it is right there with both Gene Kelly’s Singin’ in the Rain and American in Paris Ballet. It is simple, diverse and mesmerizing.

Today I found this:

Turns out it is no accident that I appreciate this scene.

I’ll  start with my childhood dreams…

This is something that I have never shared publicly and actually only to a couple very close friends. I always wanted to be a dancer. Not just any dancer. A chorus line dancer.

As a child I fantasizes about being in the line up, as you will, behind the star. I wanted to be part of a great team of dancers that functioned as a fine tuned, well choreographed group. We would be great and famous the world over as a troupe. I didn’t want to be a lone star out there by myself hogging the spotlight but sharing it with an incredible team.

I can still remember the day when I overheard my parents arguing and my dream was crushed. I had asked my mother for dance lessons. She and dad were having a horrible argument and the part that stands t was my father yelling back at my mother that he wasn’t having it. He wasn’t having it because dance lessons would make his son turn into a goddamned faggot. The words burned into my brain as my dream died. I secretly had news for him, I already was a faggot. I never had a dance lesson.

Life took me elsewhere. Although I never had the dance lessons and my dream of being  in a chorus line never materialized, my life has been and still is absolutely amazing.

To say that I lean toward Pollyanna isn’t an understatement. Don’t mistake me for perfect though, I have my down moments. Wow do I. The key is moving beyond the valleys in life and looking for the joy no matter where one is.  Be thankful, share, love, appreciate, laugh and dance. No …maybe we won’t all get out in the middle of a packed freeway and dance, but we can find a good song and sing it behind the wheel. We can smile at the person in the car beside us. We can let someone in front of us who maybe needs to get to their child’s school as they have a little one waiting.

I still have another 40 and maybe even fifty years ahead of me. I can take a dance lesson. I can encourage a child to follow their dreams. I can donate time or money to help someone realize a dream that would otherwise be lost. I can create beauty and share joy.

There is way to much adventure to be had and beauty in this world that I have yet to experience. Thus when I find myself stuck, be it stuck literally or figuratively, I can get out and dance. Life is just another day of sun!

Now for that complete dance scene one more time…

Tears of joy still flow each and every time I see it.

 

Why we call SoCal home…

Home.

I don’t know what it is about San Diego, Los Angeles and Southern California as a whole but whatever it is, it is home. Maybe it’s the sun, the air, the mountains, breezes, ocean, hills, freeways, people, cars, homes, cities, suburbs, hopes, dreams, vistas, countryside, beaches, life, joy, fashion, magic, attitude, possibilities, absurdity, freedoms, love, expression, beauty, people, diversity, aspirations, desert, wildlife, vibration, temperature, light, opportunities, allure…or maybe just the illusion.

When I sat with a dear friend in a dark theatre in my second home, Ft. Lauderdale Florida, one evening in early January this scene opened La La Land. Tears of joy steamed out of my eyes, into Fearsome then dripped upon my shirt. The beauty, hope and life of the place I love were right there upon the big screen. I saw a celebration of life and of home. Life as a carefully coreagraphed song and dance upon a closed freeway overpass. Beauty is simply where one finds it, as it is always there.

This is my home.

I wish you love in your home. Feel it, embrace it.

🎶Another day of sun, It’s just another day of sun!🎵

The elusive cycle

One of the rarest occurances in baseball hitting for the cycle. Hitting for the cycle is simply one player hitting a single, a double, a triple and a home run all in one game. Hitting for the cycle has only occurred 307 times in the history of Major Legue baseball since the first recorded in 1882. A feat more rare than a cycle is a no hitter. A no hitter is a pitcher completing a full 9 innings without the opposing team achieving a single hit which has only occurred  289 times in MLB history. The perfect game (no hitter ever even reaches a base)  has only been achieved 23 times in MLB history with the rarest occurance being hitting for the cycle in perfect order only happening 14 times.

This happened Tuesday:

Wil Myers landed The Padres their second cycle in Padres history. He hit a single, a double, a home run and finally, at his 8th inning fourth at bat, a triple. The triple is that hardest one out of the four to get.

I love baseball. I love the ability for a player to have a fresh start each and every time a bat is picked up.

The cycle is quite the achievement. Think about it. In most games a player only gets 4 at bats or 5 tops. Many games a player will have not even achieve one hit in a game much less four. Consider that in 140 years of Major Legue baseball more than 210,000 games have been played with  at least 9 hitters (more than 1,890,00 total) getting an average of 4 at bats…that’s more than 7,560,000 at bats.

Congratulations Wil Myers on cycle #308.

Baseball truly is a field of dreams. One must dream the dream first and then it will come. It will.

Opening Day

Baseball.

Today marks our beloved San Diego Padres home opener.

Opening day is a day of dreams, hopes, beginnings, the smell of a freshly cut grass and irresistable scents of barbecue, hotdogs, popcorn and those damn garlic fries.

Our Padres aren’t expected to do much this year. The team is very young, inexperienced and some say “experimental”. In baseball this doesn’t really matter. Each game and each at bat is a new beginning.

As is Fearsome’s want, we continue our tradition of posting John Fogerty’s Centerfield to mark the monumentous occiasion and local holiday of Opening Day!

Yes …we will be there. We wouldn’t miss such an occiasion. We love baseball.

Don’t stop dreaming

Things may not be perfect in our world, but please remember one thing…

Don’t ever stop dreaming.

If we don’t dream, we can never make our dreams come true.

Barbra & Seth have taken one of Fearsome’s favorite tunes and done it justice. Way.

 

Sacrificial dreams

So a few days back I posted THIS, which was inspired by THIS.

I’ve been contemplating my words every day since I wrote that post. I believe in the magic that is life. I believe in my power to create and your power to create. In that post I wrote these words:

“We, the Better Half and I, work hard. We dream. We act. We give. We appreciate. We love. Sure sometimes the shit hits the fan. The shit only becomes a problem if we focus on it. As long as we look beyond the shit and focus on the important end goal, things happen. Good things happen.”

Therein lies a key. Those words were meant to convey that while the magic is there, the magic isn’t necessarily “abracadabra” and “poof” your dreams are reality. It’s meant to point out that sometimes dreams involve work, that sometimes dreams are not without sacrifice.

I believe that if everything I desired just suddenly appeared in my hands that my life would be without meaning. My life would frankly be boring. The fun, the experience, is in the work. The sacrifice that I must make in order to achieve my goals and receive my dreams is what makes life rich. The riches I find at the end of my rainbow are fulfilling only if I achieve them myself…through my own action.

The fun is in the journey. The important part is to keep dreaming and setting new destinations so that things never get boring.

So what if some dreams don’t come true and I find some disappointment? Looking back on what happened I usually realize that I either didn’t fully want that missed dream, or there was something I wasn’t willing to sacrifice for it, or I simply had replaced it with a new goal. Some dreams are just that, a sacrifice that must be made for another…maybe just a stepping stone. It’s ok to glance back, but only glance …then look forward. Move forward toward your dreams.

Everything in my life started with a thought. I made those thoughts into my reality. Some take work and some come easy but they all come to me through my own magic. My magic is the magic that is life itself, the miracle that is me. The same miracle that is you.

Go ahead, dream your dream. Before you know it another one of your dreams will be yours. Want to speed up the process? Feel gratitude for what you’ve achieved thus far. Want your dreams even faster? Help someone else toward their dream and you’ll be amazed at what happens. Amazed.

Turn your magic on

From the wisdom interwoven in the lyrics of my earlier post featuring Coldplay’s Adventure of a Lifetime I reminisce about the wonders of my own life. I sit in awe of the gifts, blessings and love that I’ve received and experienced in this blip of time that is my life.

Back in high school I dated a girl named Julie. Julie lived in a big beautiful split level up on Round Hill. Round Hill was a neighborhood where the rich kids lived that attended my high school. After climbing the stairs up to the front door and taking in the amazing view I rang the bell and her bear of a father answered the door. He was a jolly man who was just checking out the young man who was about to take his daughter out in a 1966 Mustang with the top down. The living room was massive and had a view of the whole city below from the bay window. As we drove away I remember thinking one day, maybe one day…

I remember my my first trip to Ft. Lauderdale Florida in 1984. My first lover, Tim, and I went to visit a friend Chris from our hometown. Chris had moved there and was enthusiastic about his new home in the tropical paradise that is South Florida. Chris gave us the tour and showed us all the highlights. Emblazoned in my memory was him pointing out the beach condos and boasting about the handsome prices they brought. I remember thinking to myself as we drove by one day, maybe one day…

Shortly after moving into our little rental in San Diego I was out for a walk with my two dogs familiarizing myself with the neighborhood. We had just moved here from Seattle and rented a fixer of a little house. By accident that little house just happened to be in one of San Diego’s best and priciest neighborhoods. We somehow had just rented the least expensive home in an incredible neighborhood. The homes were stunningly beautiful, historic and stately. As I walked down one of the quaint streets I saw one on a hill. It was a classic California craftsman on a hill that just seemed to speak to me. I remember thinking one day, maybe one day…

Back in 1998 my cute new buddy Clayton took me to my first Major League Baseball game, a Padres game. He parked us in seats right on the field behind first base. I had never been interested in pro ball, much less baseball, yet suddenly I was a fan. A big fan, I was sold. I started attending games regularly. I told myself one day, what if one day…

We, the Better Half and I, work hard. We dream. We act. We give. We appreciate. We love. Sure sometimes the shit hits the fan. The shit only becomes a problem if we focus on it. As long as we look beyond the shit and focus on the important end goal, things happen. Good things happen.

As I write this I sit in my seat watching the Padres play. My season ticket seat, my seat I’ve had for years field level right above first base at Petco Park. Later I’ll drive home to my house, that very same Calfornia craftsman that seemed to speak to me on my walk that day in 1991. I remember well that day in 1986 I bought and moved into the house where Julie’s bear of a father checked me out before I took his daughter out, the house on the hill where the rich kids lived. Earlier today I wired the funds to pay off the mortgage on the apartment building we own in Ft. Lauderdale Florida. Now we can start applying the rental income from that building toward the mortgages of the two condos we own in those very buildings on Ft Lauderdale beach that Chris drove me by so many years earlier.

Did my dreams come immediately? No. Did dreams other than these come true? Yes. Did all my dreams come true? No. Will most of my dreams come true if I work for them, toward them, believe in them, believe in myself? Yes. Do I know just how this magic works? No. Do I need to know? No. Do I need to believe? Yes.

….from the wisdom in the words of Coldplay’s tune…”Everything you want is just a dream away”

We become what we think, dream and thank about……

…..A longtime belief of mine. I have to remind myself that what I’m grateful for I will get more of. I have to remind myself that what I think about I will make my reality. I have to remind myself that what I dream about will manifest in my life. It always has and always will…so go ahead, turn your magic on!

Colplay speaks of truth in the amazing lyrics of this wonderful tune.

turn your magic on
Umi she’d say
everything you want’s a dream away
and we are legends every day
that’s what she told me

turn your magic on,
to me she’d say
everything you want’s a dream away
under this pressure under this weight
we are diamonds

now I feel my heart beating
I feel my heart underneath my skin
and I feel my heart beating
oh you make me feel
like I’m alive again
alive again
oh you make me feel
like I’m alive again

said I can’t go on, not in this way
I’m a dream that died by light of day
gonna hold up half the sky and say
only I own me
and I feel my heart beating
I feel my heart underneath my skin
oh I can feel my heart beating
cause you make me feel
like I’m alive again
alive again
oh you make me feel
like I’m alive again

turn your magic on, Umi she’d say
everything you want’s a dream away
under this pressure under this weight
we are diamonds taking shape
we are diamonds taking shape

if we’ve only got this life
this adventure oh then I
and if we’ve only got this life
you get me through
and if we’ve only got this life
in this adventure oh then I
want to share it with you
with you
with you
yeah I do
woohoo
woohoo
woohoo

California Dreaming

Having been born in the 1960s, I grew up hearing an iconic tune.

California was a dream as far as I was concerned. A place far away and far different from my existence. It was a place I heard of and never a place I ever even thought of living. It was a place I might visit one day in my lifetime, a place to go on an exotic vacation.

A lot happened out there in California. There were news reports of unrest, politics, pollution and radical change. Hollywood was out in California. Movies and television shows came from there. The Beverly Hillbillies moved there. Lots of money and glamour seemed to be the norm for that place. Many musicians seemed to come out of California and many also met there demise there in the decadent lifestyle.

It apparently had quite a lot beaches. The Beach Boys came out of California and with them brought music and surf culture. I had never seen a surfer. California had sun and summer all the time, well except on the rare day it did rain and when it rained it apparently poured. A lot of hippies lived in California and it seemed to be a place that loved to party and hated war.

Sometime around age twenty one or two a lover of mine and I were discussing where we may want to live. I never dreamed of leaving our hometown, he had always dreamed of leaving our hometown. I decided to take out a map and just pick a place. He picked somewhere on the Midwest, Chicago I think. I picked San Diego just off the top of my head. I had never been further west than St Louis. I remember saying if I’m going to dream, I’ll dream California. I really knew nothing about San Diego at all. It just seemed nice to be close to Los Angeles, but not in LA. We both went about our life and stayed in our hometowns never even taking a step toward nor ever been talking about moving again. Eventually going our own ways, yet still there.

In my mid twenties I fell in love. I fell in love with someone who was from California that then was living in Seattle. Seattle, that was the city with the needle…right? I could picture living there. Seattle wasn’t a dream and seemed a reasonable place to live. I moved west, west to Seattle.

As the universe would have it Seattle was only temporary. I had once placed a pin on a map. I had set a goal. I had dreamed a dream. I put that dream on the back burner and went about life. The universe did it’s job, it’s job to take care of my dream while I lived life. The better half got an offer in California, San Diego California in fact.

Nine months after relocating further away from my home than I had ever even traveled (traveled in these United States that is) we moved to San Diego. It wasn’t until about six months of living here that I even remembered that day I had picked out San Diego as that place on the map. I was living a dream that I hadn’t remembered having. It was a dream worth dreaming. I have loved San Diego since first sight. This is home.

I had never even planned to leave the hometown in which I grew up. All my friends wanted to, I never had. Careful of the dreams you dream. Dreams do come true. I’m living a dream that I didn’t realize I was having.

This post came about yesterday as I was working out at my gym, World Gym San Diego. That gym is as Southern California as you can get outside of muscle beach up in LA, or Venice Beach to name it properly. Looking around and feeling the energy while I breathed in the ocean breeze, this small town boy realized he had always been California Dreamin’. He realized his dream in his late twenties. This year will mark the year I’ve decided to call the “tipping year”. I have lived here as many years as I lived back east. This is the year I’ve lived in my home as long as I lived in that home.

The iconic tune has even been updated.

My point with this crazy post? A point I’m so passionate about I’ll make it again…..I really had always dreamed of this place even when I didn’t believe in my dream. The key is I had my dream. Dare to dream. No dream is too big or too out there. Dreams really do come true.

Blue Monday

I don’t spend much time on the down side of life. I am and have most always been a glass half full person. Often even being a glass overflowing personality. I like being upbeat, smiling, giving, expressing joy and positivity.

Once in a while I am on the downside. I guess it’s part of the cycle of life. I don’t often share that I’m down because I don’t believe in wallowing in it. I decided to write it down here so I can look at it, feel it, examine it and move beyond it.

Yes my father died. Part of life is that we will loose our parents. The 1980s conditioned me for death. I survived many a friend, acquaintance and sexual partner in that era of AIDS. I remember my mother talking with me about how I was too young for this to be happening. She hadn’t lost so many friends as I had. She said that loosing that many wasn’t supposed to happen until one was in their 70s or even beyond.

The 1980s passed into my history. I haven’t lost a friend to AIDS or any other cause in years. I worked in healthcare for years and saw many a death of people that I didn’t really know, but yet cared for. I left healthcare in 2004. So while I am a person who has probably experienced more death than the average, I am out of practice.

Then there’s the difference, the void left by someone who was always there as long as I can remember. I look a little bit like him. I have some of his mannerisms. I say things he used to say. I try my best to rein in that temper that I inherited from him.

I feel like I’ve written and written about his death on this blog thingy to the point that my dear readers are like “Oh shit, not another my dad died post”. I hope it’s not one of ‘those’ post but actually a healing post, for me as well as maybe one of you.

It’s a dark cloudy day here, one where the gray envelopes you like a steamy sticky comforter on too warm of a night. The weather makes it even easier too feel like my emotions are a cramped shell closing in on my ears. That blinders are  limiting the field of vision around my eyes. The world seems small.

At 4:26 am I was jolted awake. My father’s voice called me. It wasn’t a stern nor angry voice and not a joyful, cheerful one either. It was just a normal voice as if he stood over me and said my name just to waken me from my deep slumber. The room was dark as the glowing green numerals from the clock stared me in the face and the little dogs slept alongside of me like warm baked potatos scattered at my sides. After a brief thought of I might as well get up now, I peacefully drifted back out into a sea of sleep lulled by the soft breeze from the ceiling fan above.

The voice I heard is haunting me today. That voice was vividly accurate in tone and intonation. I don’t remember any dream attached to it at all. It left me feeling a void this morning. A void that I should feel. Voids are not necessarily bad. It’s just a space, a space I can fill with good. With time and smart choices, I will find the good to fill the void.

Dreams, what to make of them

My dream woke me up this morning at around 5 am. No big deal I get up at 5:20, but a dream waking me up is unusual.

It was one of those weird dreams where someone from your past is the central character and you are in an uncomfortable situation. The dream disturbed me. I started the day by e mailing a friend to get it out of my head in hopes that, that would be that. It wasn’t.

The thoughts persisted throughout my day and at one point I actually became angry when an old memory popped up that I had but forgotten that was related to the central character of the dream. I’ve been quite distracted all day. In fact I burned dinner. I haven’t burned dinner in quite a long time.

So now I’ve turned my thoughts to dreams in general. This seems to be taking my mind away from the disturbing situation this morning to more of a what and why question of dreams.

Why do we have strange dreams? What purpose do they have? Why are some pleasant, funny or reassuring and other are disturbing, embarrassing or frightening? What causes the different themes? Why do people from your past, some even long forgotten, show up?

I’m not going to analyze this to the core and find the deepest most meaningful answer. I just want to contemplate in order to help myself leave one behind more easily when it starts to haunt me.

I’m actually interested to hear what you think. How do you relate to your dreams? How do you handle the bizzare ones? Do you dream often? Are most pleasant? Do you even like dreams? Have you ever had one that actually came to fruition in your life? Do dreams mean anything for you?