An open window, way past midnight, trucks racing, city buses creaking and shaking, blaring, sounding like a evil alarm clock squawks. A drunken man doused in tears and song decides to stop beneath the open window.
“Some enchanted evening…”

I am in a bed in a strange room and in a strange city. Awake and awash in sweat and regret. A stranger in town.

I toss and I turn, stare at the ceiling and I remember.
It’s good to remember, at times. Helps one as they walk against the wind.

If happiness is a memory and frustration the soup of the day, I’d rather daydream, skip the meal and lock the doors.

Half moon, full sun, dirty walls and that drunk ‘neath my window is destroying a Dylan tune.

Three o’clock, several years until daybreak. One more valiant attempt at sleep. I open my eyes, and I cede to the effects of midnight coffee. Innards feel like there is a fire inside.

She is sleeping beside me, a beauty in this muggy screaming night. I take her hand and pull her close. As I feel the waves washing over the sand..

I open my eyes and the room is bright, the street is alive, voices of children heading to school.

Even now, I feel nerves when I think about the four walls of a classroom. Educating the children in straight jackets is not education, it’s a form of suppressing individuality and promoting ancient conspiracy theories in leaflets and enforced memorization of ideals no longer pertinent.

I sit up and she smiles, happy to see me and I smile.

“Let’s go home.”

The open window is nailed shut, the humming of the air conditioner, salvation from a nightmare, mutes any outside noise.

Just a dream.

Jotted some words, don’t read too much into it. Childhood memories with a child’s awe and wonder.