Two nights ago, I had a beautiful dream. I dreamed that I was free again. I was in a large kitchen sautéing onions in olive oil that were simmering in a large silver pan as I slowly stirred them with a long wooden spoon. I looked down at my feet, and my dog Tuffy that was sitting on the floor with his beautiful white fur, and he was looking up at me with absolute trust and love in his eyes. My girl kept flitting in and out of the kitchen as I cooked and coming up behind me and wrapping her arms around me and kissing me on the side of my neck and whispering things in my ear that made me laugh. In my dream, she had the fragrant smell that a rose does when you bend down, stick your nose into it, and inhale.
The first part of my dream involved just these three loves: Food, Tuffy, and the love of a woman, two of which I haven't physically felt in years. The second part of my dream involved another of my loves...the water. I was standing on the fantail of a ship as it cut through the Atlantic Ocean and I was looking down at the light blue wake that the screws of the ship had created as the seagulls nosily tagged along behind the ship. I felt the sun on my face, tasted the salt on the wind, and felt the insignificant feeling that I always feel when I'm in the ocean and surrounded by water for as far as the eye can see.
My body has been locked up for years, and will be locked up for years to come, but my spirit is still free. Moreover, on nights like this I get an opportunity to feel all of the sensations of freedom that I took for granted when I was last allowed the privilege of them.
When I woke up from my dream, I laid in the dark and was filled with a feeling of peace and joy. The only sound in the cell was the soft hissing of air that came in through the vent in the top of the cinderblock wall. After laying there for a minute, I got up and went to the small turret-like window at the back of my cell and stared out into the crisp January night sky. The stars above the Mojave Desert sparkled like diamonds and looked close enough to touch. I stood there wanting to walk outside and just stand in the nighttime and feel the cold air as I looked up at the stars, something else that I haven't done for years now. On nights like this when I wake up from these dreams, I allow myself to yearn for freedom instead of locking that yearning away behind a door in my mind like I do every other day.
I hope that I never stop having dreams like this because they're directly proportional to my hope that I'll survive prison and be free again one day. However, throughout the years I've come to learn that one man's dream can sometimes be another man's nightmare, and if you're not careful back here, instead of doing the time, the time can sneak up and start doing you.
I got a stark reminder of this again yesterday when a young guy in the cell above me hung himself and died. He was from Los Angeles and had a life sentence and simply lost hope. I also believe that he lost the ability to dream and to remember what it feels like to have your girl wrap her arms around you, or what it feels like to run your fingers through your dog's fur as he wags his tail and licks your face. I believe that this poor tortured soul lost his dreams and was left with only nightmares. What a terrible feeling of loneliness he must have felt in those last moments as he slid the noose over his head. I imagine that the ache was so bad that he had lost his ability to even cry anymore; I imagine he was just numb. I understand these feelings well.
Before I went to bed last night, I said a silent prayer for the guy who hung himself and asked God to release him of the pain and fear that he felt here on earth. I also asked him to give him his dreams back...wherever he may be. Then I laid back and prayed for another dream.
"All the leaves are brown, and the sky is gray. California dreaming on such a winter's day."
Jeffrey P. Frye
1/24/14
murderslim.com
Bank Robber's Blog
@bankblogger2
The first part of my dream involved just these three loves: Food, Tuffy, and the love of a woman, two of which I haven't physically felt in years. The second part of my dream involved another of my loves...the water. I was standing on the fantail of a ship as it cut through the Atlantic Ocean and I was looking down at the light blue wake that the screws of the ship had created as the seagulls nosily tagged along behind the ship. I felt the sun on my face, tasted the salt on the wind, and felt the insignificant feeling that I always feel when I'm in the ocean and surrounded by water for as far as the eye can see.
My body has been locked up for years, and will be locked up for years to come, but my spirit is still free. Moreover, on nights like this I get an opportunity to feel all of the sensations of freedom that I took for granted when I was last allowed the privilege of them.
When I woke up from my dream, I laid in the dark and was filled with a feeling of peace and joy. The only sound in the cell was the soft hissing of air that came in through the vent in the top of the cinderblock wall. After laying there for a minute, I got up and went to the small turret-like window at the back of my cell and stared out into the crisp January night sky. The stars above the Mojave Desert sparkled like diamonds and looked close enough to touch. I stood there wanting to walk outside and just stand in the nighttime and feel the cold air as I looked up at the stars, something else that I haven't done for years now. On nights like this when I wake up from these dreams, I allow myself to yearn for freedom instead of locking that yearning away behind a door in my mind like I do every other day.
I hope that I never stop having dreams like this because they're directly proportional to my hope that I'll survive prison and be free again one day. However, throughout the years I've come to learn that one man's dream can sometimes be another man's nightmare, and if you're not careful back here, instead of doing the time, the time can sneak up and start doing you.
I got a stark reminder of this again yesterday when a young guy in the cell above me hung himself and died. He was from Los Angeles and had a life sentence and simply lost hope. I also believe that he lost the ability to dream and to remember what it feels like to have your girl wrap her arms around you, or what it feels like to run your fingers through your dog's fur as he wags his tail and licks your face. I believe that this poor tortured soul lost his dreams and was left with only nightmares. What a terrible feeling of loneliness he must have felt in those last moments as he slid the noose over his head. I imagine that the ache was so bad that he had lost his ability to even cry anymore; I imagine he was just numb. I understand these feelings well.
Before I went to bed last night, I said a silent prayer for the guy who hung himself and asked God to release him of the pain and fear that he felt here on earth. I also asked him to give him his dreams back...wherever he may be. Then I laid back and prayed for another dream.
"All the leaves are brown, and the sky is gray. California dreaming on such a winter's day."
Jeffrey P. Frye
1/24/14
murderslim.com
Bank Robber's Blog
@bankblogger2