There have been times in my life when I have only thought of the future because the present was so awful. Or else, life became a strenuous trial of endurance with circumstances and fate stacked against me, some of this my own felt, but a lot due to those cruel rolls of the dice of life.
I found myself in holding patterns of indecisiveness and waiting when I was out of work or looking for another job. Or when I was stuck in limbo, so to speak. There is nothing quite so bad as being unsure of what to do, of agonizing over decisions. Should I do this? Or, what if such and such were to occur? Back and forth, round and round. And, how do I get out of a bad situation?
Going out of the present and seeking some imagined better future can be fraught with peril and intense frustration. . When, for instance, I was in a terrible job back in the mid 80s that I knew was not going to last and was temporary, I counted the days until there was some change in circumstances, until my year was up, or until something changed.
This job was absolute, pure misery. What made it more so was they there was nothing I could do to change the situation. Two warring forces bitterly despised each other, and I was caught in the middle. The administrators in that maddening tar pit would or could do nothing to ameliorate the tension between the two warring forces. They failed a big test, in my eyes.
During this year of conflict I felt terrible, gut-wrenching loneliness and isolation. To survive these moods, I always tried to make at least a portion of each day away from work meaningful in some small way. This became the salve, the coping mechanism I so badly needed day after day..
For instance, I took long walks to reduce the stress and anxiety. How many times has simply walking saved the day and restored my spirits, clearing my mind temporarily and mercifully. I took canoe trips on a nearby creek, and long drives in the truly beautiful countryside. I listened to music that calmed me. I looked at my favorite pine trees, and was cheered by the sight of countless azaleas that were in bloom that Spring in 1987. I tried to imagine I was in some other reality, some other world removed from the present.
Now, thankfully, I don’t do much waiting anymore. Personal conflict is minimal. There’s nothing much to wait for until the inevitable end, at which point I will have passed through this vail of tears.
Nowadays, the present is all important. I refuse to dwell on future events because I have no way of knowing what they will be like, or any way of controlling them. I have, over time, finally been able to tame the horrific and traumatic events or happenings that still pop up out of the blue with the mere thought of certain people, landscapes, places and long-fought mental battles.
Some of these fears, conflicts and traumas surface in vividly disturbing dreams. Last night presented a perfect example, awakening from which I found myself in a depressed and forlorn mood.
I had another variation of a frequent recurring dream. As usual, it was strange and exceedingly unsettling, and totally enveloped my nocturnal sleeping consciousness. I was as close to having what I think a lucid dream might be as any other dream I can recall.
I was once again on the outskirts of a large city — New Orleans where I grew up — with skyscrapers looming in this distance like some glowing Oz. Usually I am alone when this dream/nightmare occurs, but this time my injured brother, who I had rescued, was with me, and we had just escaped a house in a crime and drug-infested neighborhood.
We set out for a safe and well-known location in the distance where I could stop and call my parents on a cell phone to come and pick us up and take us home, rescuing both of us. We had to pass through a maze of streets, some of which were flooding. Shadowy figures loomed in the near distance, menacing, and I and my brother turned onto other streets, one after another, which were also unknown to me.
This aspect of the dream would keep repeating. Every now and then as we slowly progressed toward downtown, I would see a fascinating old derelict building and want to take a picture of it.
When we got to a place that was relatively safe, and which would be a known landmark for my parents, pulled out a battered flip phone and could not remember their home phone number, or I tried dialing and got a wrong number. The nightmare was starting to deepen but it ended there when I woke up to go to the bathroom.
Pleasant dreams always seem to elude me. Why is this, I wonder? Surely I am to be rewarded for overcoming and outlasting all the trials and tribulations I have been through?
Fortunately I have reached old age still intact, more or less, despite all the aforementioned vicissitudes of life. But after such a dream as just narrated, I seem to be waiting futilely for any kind of happy, glowingly fantasy-inspired dream to come along.
Waiting is not good unless you have to. Life is to be lived, not just anticipated.
I listened to this song and album on a cassette tape over and over in the Spring of 1987. Today it symbolizes great transitions and changes in my life, as in May of that year I was released from that tormented job, and was soon on my way into the unknown future via a lengthy, months-long solo road trip literally around the U.S. and back to New Orleans in 1988.
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