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Wednesday, May 18, 2011


My dream yesterday.

Around and around his neighborhood block, he must go. He awakens from a drug induced stupor, prescribed by the Psychiatrist, administered nightly by his loving parents. The boy's daily activity consist of riding his bicycle around and around the same block, at the same speed meticulously, time after time, hour after hour, day after day.
If you ride beside him, he is peaceful and happy, laughing, full of a child. If you dare to physically stop him, therefore stopping his routine, a look of un-nerving, unsettling terror oozes from his eyes, the depth of which causes everyone to jump back out of fear!
There is only one way to stop the around and around madness. That is to knock him out with powerful medication, ones meant for adults many times his size. Then his eyes echoes a hollowness, of no existence.
What is it? "IT" eats away at his parents soul, they are being devoured and tormented by forces they cannot understand! How can anyone comprehend such unfathomable madness from such a beautiful boy? I, a family member try to help. I stop him as he rides around and around, I can bear the pain, no more. I place my huge loving arms around the boy and he goes limp of life, but his eyes show the look of out of control animal rage. Suddenly that same look leaves the boy and appears on his Mother's face, the look of cornered, rage. The look of terror and trapped. As quickly as that look appeared another look is on her face, emptiness, those eyes tell the story. What is the story?
Hopelessness, we must possess a purpose, a routine, no matter how small. We hit our heads against the wall, questioning, searching for OUR purpose. That has become a sickness, to understand, to make sense! We must make sense, from all the senselessness that surround us!!!
Then one day behold, the boy did not get on his bike. He starts playing with his former best friend, his dog. He sits in the swing and swings and swings, laughs, sings and plays all day long... He never rode a bike again... He had ridden out whatever made him that way, the only way he knew... The Doctors could not explain, he no longer required medication.
The boy finally won, somewhere, from deep within his heart, always a flicker of hope. Unknowningly, he was too young to understand. He just knew he had to ride his bike around and around in order to survive...  A TRUE TALE (DREAM) I HAD YESTERDAY.          

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