idylls americano: about dreams, wishes, and the "sparsity mindset".

This is the unspoken bifocal of peering into slumber from awareness, and alternately looking across the fence, from sleep into the very real and sensible world.(Perpetually looking towards a better satisfaction without taking up the appreciation of the current moment.)

The benign pinnacle of luxuries is to begin the day by choosing the who and how of one’s own persona.  As any palatable vintage has its particulates, one might find that there are variances in the vacuum of one’s interior malaise and milieu.  I utter this, in the magnificent impression of the moment, tethered variously to the common humanity, the earth, the sun and sky, the stars, and in perpetuity being capable of sensing only because of the stellar glow of the very imagination of God, Himself.

“The elements so mixed in him”, and the parallax hammer-mashed finger of the residue of experience—it begins so soon to pale in memory, and then as if a Fibonacci Sequence, multiplicative, until the pieces become ever more tiny as to defy perception.  Why, we forget the dream incrementally as we do our dallies, and in sleep, the dream is an accordion contortion of those varied dallies.  The fugue of the dream state is to catch glimpse of reality; and the nuisance secondary process of our open eyes is the assail of some butt-print in the chair that implies, but explicitly obscures, an infinity.

As Freud spoke of the “dream work” of revisions and reverse readings, as the thinking facility provided its personal and distinctive reality in which to bath its feet, brown its hamburger, and tend to nothing much(as to why the particulate matter floats adrift in the substance of the vintage); the other side of that midnight was to glimpse that infinity while plainly having two feet touching the surface of the good and honest earth. (The vortex appetite of Western Civilization: not a "scarcity mindset" but a "sparsity mindset", not the concept in which good men repair, but an insatiable craving, those who have always a half-empty stein and daydreams in vain of yet a more filled stein, and if not that, a better stein or a more nuanced vintage..... something strange, yet by its unfamiliar novelty, falsely considered as an object of desire.)  

The sharecropper dreamed of ownership, and the owner dreamed of perpetual vacation: each of their interpretation of leisure and ease; from the household garden towards the factory, from the factory to winning the lottery, from the lottery winnings to owning restaurants, arcades, car washes and laundromats.  From Francis's one plate of collards, to regional franchises--chains of poverty to chains of franchises--the ticket sales, we are assured, go in part towards education--and what an education it is, dearly bought on the vanity of the Poor Man's Tax.  There was the knoll where the windmill stood, and across the way, one could make out the riverbank--betwixt we placed the Bingo Parlor and Beaufort T. Freedom Ballroom.

Dreams! Dream! You have dreams?  "Verily, Verily, life bis tut a dream."

As the miller told his tale, she so blithely turned a wiser shade of real.