There is a Kenny Chesney song called “I Go Back” which is about music and how a song can spark a memory from years past. I blared the song Sunday as I took a shower. I sang out loud (even though I knew my daughter would be laughing on the other side of a very thin wall and that my neighbors above were being serenaded against their will). I live for, in and wrapped around nostalgia. Why? What am I trying to remember?
I woke from a dream early this morning. I looked at the alarm clock which read 4:15 in a blaring, non-friendly red and then fell back onto my pillow trying to piece together the dream I had been pulled from. It was bizarre. I had been dreaming of driving in an old car (think 1960’s land yacht) with the mother of the boy I lost my virginity to. We drove past his grandmother’s house only to see him splitting wood in tight shorts. His very masculine form was not like I had remembered at all. He looked up from his work and smiled over to me through the windshield of the car in which I was sitting. I looked away quickly. His mother crooned, ‘He is looking at you.’ I replied, “Yeah, but I have no makeup on so I am not looking back.’
The dream was over, my snoring had woke me again (yes, I snore so bad that I wake myself up – it is a curse, a fixable curse but a curse the same).
I am thinking of the blue shorts he was wearing (not in a dirty way). The color was blazing against the rest of my dreams.