Poor Taylor
By pierrot-le-fou
He is beyond the touch of harm, feeling the ways of a better world.
Past the mountains and beyond the salt flats, he has traveled past the dunes and into the very heart of the desert. Found is the calm stillness he searched for, a dry western paradise, surrounded in the crimson rocks that have existed for ages.
Relaxing in a hammock with the sun at his back and a cool breeze to comfort him, he looked out into the cactus filled ambience and saw the life around him. The aerial battles the hummingbirds conducted over the nectar of a flower were the most interesting to watch.
Not far away he was startled by the carnivorous spectacle of a large roadrunner thrashing at a baby dove. Eventually slamming the helpless creature into the ground and ripping chunks of flesh off of its small body.
The display wasn’t kind, but it served as a reminder to him. To be thankful for everything he had, as it could all disappear. He was a fortunate fool with a stack of pancakes and a ukulele, resting in the backyard of a clay colored adobe house stretched out in front of a shimmering blue pool.
He was thankful to be at peace in a dream, if only for a few moments… when Bruce Herman awoke, his throat was dry and his head felt like it was burning. Rolling out of bed, he wandered into his bathroom and dunked his head under the faucet of his sink. As he looked at himself in the mirror and reflected blankly on his silly dream, he realized:
Sometimes dreams be dreams.
He is beyond the touch of harm, feeling the ways of a better world.
Past the mountains and beyond the salt flats, he has traveled past the dunes and into the very heart of the desert. Found is the calm stillness he searched for, a dry western paradise, surrounded in the crimson rocks that have existed for ages.
Relaxing in a hammock with the sun at his back and a cool breeze to comfort him, he looked out into the cactus filled ambience and saw the life around him. The aerial battles the hummingbirds conducted over the nectar of a flower were the most interesting to watch.
Not far away he was startled by the carnivorous spectacle of a large roadrunner thrashing at a baby dove. Eventually slamming the helpless creature into the ground and ripping chunks of flesh off of its small body.
The display wasn’t kind, but it served as a reminder to him. To be thankful for everything he had, as it could all disappear. He was a fortunate fool with a stack of pancakes and a ukulele, resting in the backyard of a clay colored adobe house stretched out in front of a shimmering blue pool.
He was thankful to be at peace in a dream, if only for a few moments… when Bruce Herman awoke, his throat was dry and his head felt like it was burning. Rolling out of bed, he wandered into his bathroom and dunked his head under the faucet of his sink. As he looked at himself in the mirror and reflected blankly on his silly dream, he realized:
Sometimes dreams be dreams.