Ivory Tower Dreams

Drive this disjointed day on. Redeem your coupons for more, take a number, stand in line: clamp down on my ivory tower dreams, they are getting too real to discern from what’s actually going on, the attraction of the fabricated fantasy looking more substantial, enticing and desirable than the factual alternatives. A golden door appears at the base of the tower, firm and stately with an aura of great power emanating from it, causing my heart to long to pass through its presence and realize the fulfillment of desires and needs that lies beyond. I see people lined and waiting to be able to enter, impatient and edgy, yet steadfast in their order and purpose, each knowing that the answers to their particulars are available within. Time takes a giant leap forward into the next moment, only to trip, stumble and staccato off to a steady infinity of others. Some might say it was worth the wait, others won’t notice (thus holding up the line for the rest of us). However, I’m interrupted among all this as other intricate stairways pull my wander mind to climb to a new view, only to have a lateral branching lead my steps in a variant direction, only to have a lateral branching lead my steps in a contrasting direction, only to have a lateral branching lead my steps in a different direction, only to have a lateral branching lead my steps in another direction, when I suddenly look back, wonder just where I am and see a lateral branching I hadn’t noticed before, so I think how interesting that way looks and I wander still further on ….um, what was I talking about? I am tumbled in my goals like a leaf in the wind, hurry scurry flurrying around and around and never catching a solid moment of peace, a stable foundation of belief and confidence, a basis to find cohesive function and balance in my creative pursuits, my inspired efforts, my labored offerings, my dreams come true. Like a bird bobbing around a bush looking for insects, a squirrel scritching upon the circumference of a tree trunk keeping away from potential predators or a bear climbing over a succession of mountains just to see what he could see, the situation is redundant in the fact that I look at each stepped moment of life and see an altered, lateral view of reality’s scope, my time catching stride and tangling in the infinite stairways thus revealed each and every step along the way…. Becoming excited, I run quickly to follow (lead) up on this new path only to lose my footing and fall bum dee bum bump in ominous music tuned to my sudden descent back down. I stop and ease to a sitting position, look around as I feel the bruising sure to be seen upon the morrow, scratch my head, stand back up, turn and find myself facing a long narrow hallway that leads into the dim of distance. Looking left and right at the endless stairs, I give a mental shrug and head on down the open hall. After a few dozen steps, a closed door marks its place on the left as I pass, and then another on the right, and then one on the left and another on the right as they become the norm, my steps taking me past them one after another in monotonous continuation. I finally tire of this and step to the next door on the left, grasp its handle, push it open and look inside: like an answer to subconscious prayers, it’s a bathroom. How convenient. I step in, close the door, unbuckle my belt and … (censored)… and buckle my belt, step to the sink and wash my hands, check my reflection in the mirror as I use a paper towel, throw the towel in the trash and open the door again to come face first with an angry looking man who says, “About time!” pushes past me and slams the door shut, cutting off his exclamation of, “Cripes! It stinks in…” leaving me standing facing the outside of the door. I notice that it is gold and that the hallway is gone and I am on the upper landing of a stairway, with a long line of people all frowning at me and muttering to themselves about time and consideration of the needs of others. I sheepishly step my way down on one side of the stairs, saying, “Sorry … sorry…” to the frowning people I pass, trying to be as quick and unobtrusive as I can. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I look back to once more see the ivory tower of my dreams, but it has somehow lost the aura of magic and wonder that it had held earlier. I purse my lips, put my hands into my pockets, shrug my shoulders around my hunched stance, shake my head in slow wonder as to what just happened, then turn and wander away into the next paragraph.

(Again) From my book Endless Shifting Sand... it’s nice to have a quick and easy source for postings when I get home too late to be able to be very creative.

Posted by Michael Steven Platt 4-18-09