Step One: Find the Dream -- or fix one.

 Having established that dreams are both fickle and slippery bastards, the idea of chasing one seemed beyond daunting at first. This isn't the first mad task I've attempted in my time however and, if I have any say in it, won't be the last either. This is really only natural when you look back at the world in the last decade. It's 2001, ten years since the American Dream was violently seized in a police state of racism and terror. You can't even run anymore without the proper documentation & without the ability to run, dreaming gets remarkably difficult.

For too long now the days been wasted, wrapped in stone, howling madly at the moon. Adulthood was found on the heels of terrorism and social vice grips crashing down on all sides, and the pattern has carried it with it some vicious, violent, animals. They've all broken loose from their cages and run amok, shitting values and pissing the fear down on the fading parades of youth. They say that growing up is never fun, that the experience hits like a bomb and never leaves you the same. I was given the shortest of moments that shook the world to its very core.

It seems to be an attitude I've applied to many of my days since. Play hard, play to win, hold nothing back for the journey home, or don't play at all. We're all climbing borrowed ladders up the rungs, just trying to keep ahead of the rising oceans of deification. Some of us make it, and even those knee deep in piss manage to raise their hands in cheer for them. Some of grow weary and tired, but we try and press on. Others of us still are content to remain on the lower levels, chin deep in the brine of humanity, ready to provide a helping hand to the climbing souls. Me? I've been all of the above, save those cheering down the bellows of encouragement from the top. So many sunsets over this ocean of waste..so many moonlit nights...

But it's in these ponderous hours, those have been spent peeling back the layers of skin covering up the dormant, dreaming mind, that I've made some of my best discoveries recently. What's been uncovered is both curious, dangerous, and highly enticing. It's got the warm grip of white sand pouring through your toes, but carries with it there's a serpent spilling through the grains. It's understood there's danger there, so thick you it could jam up an electric turkey carver, but it's also known that the greatest gains in life carry with them the greatest risk.

I've long preached about the edge and more than once have I let my toes teeter blindly on the precipice of a free fall. I've done it again, ran screaming blindly toward the cliffs, my arms flailing about as lungs belched forth the most primal of sounds from within. I've felt the iron fist of fear clench around my insides like an Amazonian constrictor. I've felt the burning pain from a lack of oxygen, the crushing weight of life being pressed out of my pores in a mixture of Kentucky Whiskey and sweat. I've pushed myself further and farther, harder and faster, than I ever have before..


 It seems only natural then, that the only way to find a dream is to create one. Simple seems better, but in the grand scheme of the universe, nothing is ever simple. Drinking a glass of water seems like nothing, until you work out the exact physical science behind it, never mind all the fucked up molecules that make up you, the glass, and the things that float in the town water. Taking a page from the Dictionary and Wikipedia, we'll look at the classic 'American' Dream.

Wikipedia, the hallmark of American internet knowledge, provides the following information:

Historian James Truslow Adams popularized the phrase "American Dream" in his 1931 book Epic of America:

"The American Dream is that dream of a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for every man, with opportunity for each according to ability or achievement. It is a difficult dream for the European upper classes to interpret adequately, also too many of us ourselves have grown weary and mistrustful of it. It is not a dream of motor cars and high wages merely, but a dream of social order in which each man and each woman shall be able to attain to the fullest stature of which they are innately capable, and be recognized by others for what they are, regardless of the fortuitous circumstances of birth or position."

While the Dictionary has this to say:

American Dream

–noun

1. the ideals of freedom, equality, and opportunity traditionally held to be available to every American.

2. a life of personal happiness and material comfort as traditionally sought by individuals in the U.S.

Looks great on paper, doesn't it? What does that really mean though? I've got to agree with Truslow on this one, at least in part and raise a middle finger to Marian Webster. The America Dream isn't designed to be one filled with the fastest cars or the biggest bank account -- even if that's what the fat swine will try and tell you it means. Capitalism and Dreaming are really ill suited bed mates. One's a passionate and fiery lover, while the other is a useless, vanilla, wafer that's happy to fuck it's way blindly to an orgasm, suck down a dry spell of it's own cancer, and go to sleep.

Truslow later wrote:

"The American Dream, that has lured tens of millions of all nations to our shores in the past century has not been a dream of material plenty, though that has doubtlessly counted heavily. It has been a dream of being able to grow to fullest development as a man and woman, unhampered by the barriers which had slowly been erected in the older civilizations, unrepressed by social orders which had developed for the benefit of classes rather than for the simple human being of any and every class."

See? There. There's a glimpse of the idea of it right there but, slowly, we've beaten and eroded it down.  'It has been a dream of being able to grow to fullest development as a man and woman, unhampered by the barriers which had slowly been erected in the older civilizations'.. It's right there. The dream of being able to grow to the fullest development unhampered by barriers. That's the ticket and the ride, and it's one we're all waiting in line to get on -- that or scalping our tickets because we're just not that interested anymore. Of course, this was Eighty years ago. Times change, but has the Dream really grown to reflect the slumber? It surely doesn't look like it from where I'm standing...and, Sweet Jesus, it's long overdue.

So this is my proposal, as suggested by the first entry on this damnable quest. Redefine The Dream. Since we've pounded it to death with the Sledgehammer of Terrorism and Conspiracy -- fucked it's brains out in the midst of the War on Drugs -- and never mind the Water boarding of the average television programing. It's all boiled down to getting a bag tossed over you head, smashed with a bat, and then being crammed face first into a toilet nobody's bothered to clean in years. It just doesn't work for the modern generations. We've taught them the wrong set of values and abandoned the bastions of Freedom that are the supposed cornerstones of our civilization.

Suggested Revisions to 'The Dream'

Point One: The Dream should represent a life of personal happiness, uninhibited by social cares and political correctness. Opinions should be freely given and encouraged to be freely countered. Material comfort should be just that, comfort. Comfort is not excess, but enough.

Point Two: The  Dream  in which life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone, with opportunity for each regardless of ability or achievement. 


Point Three: The Dreams should entail the following: Life, Liberty and Happiness -- any moment that extols any of these virtues -- without infringing upon this right for another -- should be gripped tight with both hands and held until the moment passes. It should be encouraged to everyone, from the newborn to the Elderly that life should not be an endless series of dishonest toil. It should be taught that life is made of what we build it to be, and that nothing less than everything should ever be acceptable.
 
Point Four: Freedom and Liberty are not luxuries, nor should they ever again be defined as 'inalienable' if they are not such.

Point Five: The Dream should be encouraged at every moment.

I'm aware this undertaking has been made before, and that I'm not walking down a path that is even remotely original -- but that's the point of dreaming. Everyone has dreams where they can fly, everyone has dreams where we're superheros. We all have nightmares where our loved ones burn, but no matter how many stories we tell about dreams, the feeling is always different. The purpose of this isn't to be original, but reignite the dying spark of hope that will keep the future generations alive.

So forward I go, swallowing down the Silver-back that's taken up residence in my throat, feeling it crash around in a rabid frenzy all the way into my bowels. When I hit the bottom? I'll shit a Gorilla and just keep moving on and -- with a little bit of luck -- there will be a whole new set of experiences to carry with me as I wander out into the surf of a whole new ocean. The waters are dark, deep, and full of sharks. The waters are murky, turbulent, an unpredictable. They're unforgiving and have no tolerance for hesitation. They'll sap all your strength and ask more of you than you've ever given. If you can conquer the waves thought, they'll carry you anywhere you want to go.

I will own it, I will claim it. I will pack my flag and plant it deep, waving the 'V' held high in a two handed displays even. Worst case scenario? It'll be the fitting epitaph for a man who knew just how far he was willing to go -- stealing the gesture back from a crooked man, just like I'm trying to thief back the principles of dreaming.

Re-Evaluating the Dream

"All the leaves are brown, and the skies are gray. I've been for a walk on a Winters day.."

  Dreaming is something that, to most people, conjures up some surreal image of the future or some fantasy realm where the laws of physics simply don't apply. Dreams also are the building blocks that carry us up and over the obstacles that life sets in front of us. They're the perpetual carrot on the stick, the reason man learned to fly on that beach in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Dreams are the combustion fuel behind which we learn to move through all things, but what does it really mean? Are we all drunkenly chasing phantom vegetables? Are we hunting through minefields for gold nuggets, or are we being entirely realistic in chasing down the beasts of our desires and, with a little bit of luck, riding them into the sunset?

  What does it really mean to catch a dream? Can one even be 'caught'? Is it some great, tangible, wave, upon which we can climb and be carried to dizzying heights? I've never thought so. The sight of dreams comes in small moments. They're the moments of clarity in which we see through the smoke and fog, and catch sight of the great dragon spiraling through the sky, the end of a rainbow crashing through the burning trees. They're bastions of hope in a questionable hour, lighthouses on the shore of the future guiding us in blindly. We often know they're there, we often know they're on paths wrought with pitfalls, locked deep in the jungles filled with wild insanity and pitfalls.

  This is what sets apart the average dreamer from those hot-blooded freaks who climb into the saddle and wave middle fingers high at the risk of being burned. Most people see a dream, but are content to examine the beast like an animal in the zoo. They'll leave it on the other side of the bars, occasionally tossing it a handful of peanuts. Zoos are where wild dreams go to die. Caging up dreams in the desperation to maintain them, to be able to glimpse them from time to time, but to never have to take the risk to go out and find them in their natural state? This is the errand of mad fools.

  Then there are those strange, mad, cooks, who care not for the flames that burn, the traps and pitfalls, the dark shores littered with sharp rocks and ravenous sharks just waiting for the wayward hand to crash below the surface so they can snap it off as some kind of karmic lesson. These are the very people who let themselves fly -- and I mean this in a less than lucid way -- through it all. They're a band of scarred freaks who've, most likely, been beaten, scorched, and kicked like a Dog in some bad movie about an alcoholic Father. Sure, there's the rare bastard who's never missed a step, never lost a limb in the pursuit of something real, but who do you think appreciates life more?

  I've always fancied myself this latter kind of dreamer, someone willing to dive headlong into the dark and muddy waters off the shore -- be damned the sharks -- and swim. Sure, I've been bitten more than most, but I've never once looked down at the marks with anything less than a healthy grin of appreciation. It's never preferential to be mauled in pursuit of anything, but that doesn't mean the destination was any less worth it because the ride was a little intense. I prefer intense rides anyway. We're built to appreciate the calm, but without the perspective of surfing a tsunami in the middle of a war, we never really get to appreciate those moments.

  I've been addicted to dreaming my whole life. I've been reckless in my pursuit of them, to be sure. I've cared little for the ramifications, the hazards, any of it. I've said all this before. What I also understand is that I have a propensity toward building grand designs and setting them loose on the oceans, only to let them float away because I wasn't really willing to tie off the veins and take the heavy spike it would require. I hesitated at the last moment and ended up coming up with handfuls of fur and dirt more times than I can count.

  Dreams are not things designed to be caged in relative safety. They are dangerous animals, full of wild an unpredictable possibilities. Locking them up in a cage just makes them lose their splendor, and eventually they all go mad and start feasting on their own filth and shit, screaming wildly at phantoms only they can see. I've seen this kind of thing happen before -- and let me tell you, it's horrific. Riding on the back of a dream is something they don't seem to mind, but you've got to prove to them you're capable, able, worthwhile, and strong enough to handle it. You don't need to break them. You don't need to beat them. What you've got to do is convince them to respect you.

 There are no professionals either. None among the whole Kingdom of Men has tamed a dream enough to show you how it's done. Sure, we can all stand back, cupping our chins in a feigned sense of profound thinking, trying to help you figure out a few steps you could take to close the distance, but ultimately it's up to the dreamer. In those last few moments, it's up to the dreamer to tangle with the fury of a wild dream and hope -- foolishly -- to come out unscathed.

  The point of this though? I've seen, on all sides of the fence, too few who really reach out and snatch the fruits that are in front of them. Too many who see the forest, and the trees, but enjoy neither. I've decided that the prospect of dreaming could stand for some kind of revision -- personally if nothing else. For too long the pursuit of survival been defined by eating, fucking, breeding, and dying. As admirable as the simplicity of this is, I've found it rarely contributes to much in the sense of raw jubilation that I hear people equate with the sensations they have upon first waking from a deep sleep.

  This is the beginning of a wild new journey, an I'm following it with all the wild fervor I've got. I've seen too many, myself included, lose sight of it all because things got too thick, too heavy, & too hard. This is designed to be the trumpet call to those of you out there who feel the weight's just too much. Dreams aren't things we should be afraid of at all. Is there danger in the ride? Absolutely, but the chase itself is an exhilarating experience, an I'm going for it. No holds barred. No looking back. No white flag to wave in surrender.


  There's a place, out there, just before the edge, where your choices are sink, swim, and soar. It's the point where we'd all like to turn back from and toss ropes out blindly fog and hope to reel something in -- a fresh catch to cage. I intend to find it. I intend to push past it. I'm cutting the brakes to remove even the idea of turning back. I'm diving headfirst over the cliff and into the fog.

 It's a journey where going for broke is the only way to go, and don't you come back without something to share. Give your all, and then give some more. It's the trip where you play your music loud and scratch your words out louder -- where you go home exhausted or save yourself the trip.

  I'll be packing along the words for this trip, so you'll all know what I find, and should I never quite return? I'll offer my condolences and apologies now to all of you who knew me. Dreaming is a dangerous thing sometimes but I think it's time we're all reminded that The Edge is out there. There's a point where the land rolls back and all we've got is sea and sky. I have no way of knowing what will happen, but that's the idea. I'm not chasing a dragon in the sky, I'm not even chasing something I'd consider tangible. I'm off to hunt down the biggest and baddest of all, the very idea of dreaming itself.

  Consider it a verbal documentary on stupid risk taking, only without the neon lights and used car salesmen that had defined it previously. This is a re-evaluation of just what it means to dream. While I'm aware that the experience is different for everyone and, thus, no real guidelines can be written, this is a reminder that the possibilities are there. In closing? Shakespeare.

"Falstaff:
I will not lend thee a penny.


Pistol:
Why then the world's mine oyster,
Which I with sword will open.


Falstaff:
Not a penny."

Life, I will not sit back and ask from the authority on high, for a simple gift of delight. I'll simply go out and find it all for myself, thank you very much. Consider this your one and only warning...I've unleashed the Wolverine.

"Go hard, high, and steep, and never back down; not even from a grizzly, and least of all from a mountain. -- Eat everybody; alive, dead, long dead; its still warm heart or frozen bones." It's the Wolverine way.