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Tuesday, February 28, 2006


What Dreams May Come (Part 2)
Marker six.
Still moving. Still thinking. Still dreading.
The solitary white posts were placed just to the right side of the road. They stand errily illuminated in the pale light of the afternoon.
The rain has finally let up into a light drizzle.
It seems as though its following me. Never giving me a moments peace. Serving as a constant reminder of the past. Some say that rain is cleansing; as for me, all it does is cloud and pour.
Marker seven.
Up ahead I see a familiar sight. A sight I've never forgotten. The sight of a dead oak tree with hardly any leaves. I can still see the claw marks.
God, they were beautiful hands.
I could feel them running through my hair, they were so soft and delicate.
I stop to shake off the memory as if it were clinging to the back of my head. Stop it. Leave me alone. I have to make it. I have to go. I walk on, leaving the tree behind me. It makes me sick to look at it. I wipe the rain from my face and there just up ahead, I see it. A pale white post.
They're irritating to me now.
Marker eight.
I trudge along the path as I feel the whip of my boot lace against my ankle. I walk to the marker post and set my foot upon it to tie my boot. Then it hits me. A million thoughts of what could have been flood my mind. I'm helpless to stop them as they over-take me.
I see love and warmth, happiness and mercy. I see a long, fulfilled life with no regrets, only fond heart-felt memories. Memories of friends and families. Good times and celebrations. Oh God, how I long for this. How I desire this conclusion.
I awake from what seemed like hours, on my back. Rain and mud, cascading from my face and hands. I stare into the sky, mildly concious. I'm a mess. Filthy both inside and out. I slowly sit up and look around to get my barings only to see the marker post directly in front of me. Its clean, white presence fills me with anger.
The rain begins to pour down. I climb to my feet and start up again. Just two more. Only two.
Marker nine.
I feel cold and empty. I want to turn around and go home. I have a fire place and hot tea. I could be there. I want to be there right now. Don't be a coward. I'm not yellow. Never have been and I certainly don't plan on starting. My steps are steady and defiant. I'll show you.
Whatever.
(to be continued)

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