I woke up today, on a farm.
Time is suspended there. Clocks
run differently, if at all. There are no
neighbors, no impending chores, no responsibilities. I can be alone, with nature, and
commune. I can get completely naked and
sunbathe, and no one is there to watch or judge or even consider the fact that
I have shed all my clothes and am lying supine on a lounge chair.
And then I have to get in my car and drive back to
reality. Getting into the car to leave
is hard enough, but once I get into the driver’s seat, the minutes begin
ticking again. Life, being eaten away in
small pieces by a clock. Imminent actuality.
I want to revel in the suspended timelessness. I want to drink in the joy of not having an
alarm going off in the morning or having a series of bells tell me where I have to be and what
I have to do every hour of every day.
Freedom comes in various ways, and it doesn’t come very often. I want to succumb to the sun and the stars
and the weightlessness of just being alive, without having to be somewhere (or
someone) I don’t want to be.
My dreamscape is unrealistic, perhaps, but that doesn’t make
it less necessary.
