Have you ever wondered where dreams live? The really big ones. The ones you have that are so big you have never told a soul about. The ones you have had since you were a teenager. The ones that keep you awake at night. The ones that possess your very soul. The ones that drive you mad. The ones you have been searching for your entire life. The ones that make you cry when you think about them. Not because they are sad, but because they take your breath away because one day you know they will arrive. The ones that hurt so bad because you want them so bad. So bad mere words cannot explain the feeling. There’s no word for that feeling. None. It’s like you are being held underwater and you want to breath so bad. So bad you will do anything to reach air. Anything, it consumes you, a burning desire for only one thing. Now multiply that by 1,000. You are getting close. Still, I have never found a word for it. Burning desire is close but even deeper. I had a dream when I was young, about 13 years old. It never left me. I was what you would call obsessed with it.

The one thing I did learn was to never, ever reveal it to anyone. Even after it came true I rarely speak of it because to the majority it means little to them or they could not understand why something like that would have any meaning. My dream would make little sense to the majority. And that’s ok, I’m not here to win any popularity contests.

A soul I knew a long time ago taught me one of the best lessons of my life. No matter what you do in life, most will not approve so get used to it and hang out with the ones that do. The 1% of 1% of 1%. Hang out with those. Your frequency won’t resonate with all the tuning bells out there. But you will know that kindred soul because your frequency will vibrate that other soul like a tuning bell does. In the same way your dreams, your burning desires resonate. They send forth a frequency that resonates in that place that dreams live. My dream was not so simple that  it could be purchased locally in 10 minutes. It was a concept, an idea that never existed before. If I knew in the beginning how long it would take to arrive I might have thrown in the towel. But it haunted me, my soul, everyday. I would cry when I thought about it. Sounds silly right? I never met anyone in my journey here like that. I’m sure they are out there. How long you ask? More than 30 years it took. But one day my dream came true. Yours can too.

L

Somewhere in Kentucky.

This post was composed under the haunting influence of “Sara” by Fleetwood Mac

 

The Question That Drives You

Well, I’m in Gettysburg, PA getting ready to visit the Gettysburg Battlefield over the next few days. Been watching Gettysburg (1993) to get psyched up and in the proper mood.

While on the road here I got to thinking about images that I have seen on this trip that continue to haunt my soul. Things I just can’t seem to get out of my head. They seem to have a life of their own. I will be riding along and all of a sudden that image pops up out of nowhere and I ponder where that person is now and what perhaps brought them to be in that position I found them in.

The first one was a young man, native American or Spanish that was wearing rather dirty, tattered clothes walking off to the side of the 2 lane highway about 100 feet away all by himself. This was somewhere in Northern Texas. Way out in the boonies, not so far out that I was worried about him but far out enough I thought to myself how or why is this guy walking out here all by himself so far from civilization. I slowed down a bit to catch his eye but he kept looking ahead. The rest of the day I kept thinking about him and I still do. Wherever he is now.

The second one and the most haunting image is of an older woman I met in Tucumcari, New Mexico. She was staying at the motel I was at. I thought she was a guest at first then learned different later. She was somewhere between 75 and 80. She seemed very lively and sharp to me. We spoke of an old Cadillac of hers that she wanted to restore. She spoke also of growing up in Dallas and how she longed to go back home to Dallas. She said she did not care for Tucumcari that much. We spoke for about 20 minutes and she kept up her side of the conversation quite well.

Later that evening the motel owner mentioned to me she saw me speaking with her mother. It seems the older woman was brought there by her daughter to be able to look after her better. The daughter told me her mother suffered from Alzheimer’s. Now that sort of shocked me because I did not pick up on that when I was speaking to her. She seemed very lucid and clear. Then her daughter told me she was not from Dallas. She was from another city in Texas. And other bits and pieces started to fall into place. But the thing I could understand quite clear was that she longed to go home wherever her original home was actually. That impression struck me hard when I spoke to her. Her voice was different when she spoke of her old home. Her eyes were different. It reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago.

The next morning I left the motel and I waved goodbye to her as I pulled out of the parking lot. She waved back. I spent the entire day on the way to Roswell, NM thinking about her. And I still do today. I just can’t her out of my head.

One last thing that haunts me is how different this country has changed from when I grew up in the 60’s and 70’s and from when I last visited the US. I hardly recognize it. I must as well be visiting another planet. This clip below is from 1969. 6 years after my first ride on a motorcycle. My parents would not allow me to see this movie so I had to sneak in to see it with one of my friends that owned a Honda minitrail 70. I think this movie really got me going on motorcycles since shortly after seeing this I got my first minibike and a helmet just like the one Peter Fonda wore. Except mine had a yellow tinted visor.

Ready for a time machine trip back to the 60’s? Click the play button and enjoy!

 

 

Life is too short to delay your dreams

 

 

Coming up on Devil’s Tower