Staring blankly at the wall…it almost acts as an inner movie screen…I sit back and rewind time in my mind. So many flashes up there…days fly into weeks into years into memories that seem like a movie of someone else’s life. I casually nod off into my daydream while staring blankly at the wall. I follow the path I’ve made…the one that winds loosely through my history…feeling such an array of things in the span of a few seconds. How do I stop and ponder on one when one naturally leads into another one and then repeats the pattern over and over again. I feel my ass slipping off the pseudo-plush seat while at the same time I become consciously aware of my slouching posture and a few curious side-glances from the other poor slobs stuck here in waiting room limbo. (There’s nothing I hate more then waiting rooms. Set out some cots, let us recline…yeah, recline. Bring in some recliner’s, let us snooze while we wait…maybe pump in some music, personal stereos mounted on the wall next to the recliner’s with some kick ass headphones. They can call you over an intercom that pipes in over the headphones. Yeah. But I seem to have slipped off the subject) Why is it these journey’s into yesterday don’t come when I am sitting under a tree on a fine spring morn? Why can’t my life be that picture perfect one that was promised to me so long ago in some childhood poem? Where’s the White Rabbit to show me the way. I’ve poked so many holes trying to catch the dream but it always alludes me, confuses me then loses me when I need it the most.