Fly my pretties. No wait, Come Back.

I sleep.

A long, dark passage lays before him.

Confidently, James Dean takes the regular route through my ear.

Same as so many times before.

Unconsciously, I curse myself for not building defense mechanisms.

You know,

Bullets and stuff.

Yes, I am against war, but this is different.

After treading part of the way, loneliness blocks his path.

He sends an urgent SOS to Chewbacca, explaining his need of company.

The beast is there in 5 minutes tops.

They break the wall instantly.

I sleep.

Together they go, eventually coming across exactly what they are looking for.

There, in the Frontal Lobe of my brain they find,

My Cage of Dreams.

I sleep.

Carefully, and ever so quietly, James Dean picks the lock,

Who know he had a brain to match those good looks.

He opens the cage and lets them soar.

My thoughts, my memories and my dreams all up for grabs.

The mission is complete.

God thanks the man and his friend for their hard work and sends them on their way.

I sleep.

My dreams race. My thoughts bounce and my memories fly.

One by one they realize there is so much more out there, than just my head.

One by one they move. Out of my frontal lobe, and down the long, dark passage.

One by one they trickle into the unknown.
Into the world.

It's morning and I wake up.
I get ready and head for school.
Unknowingly, I trip on the memory of my 1st field trip as I make my way out the door.
It's too damaged to ever come back.
A man lights a smoke, inhaling my dream to sing on his way to work.
This is the last time, he promises himself.
At lunch she eats alone.
Between the turkey and mustard, my thought to sit with her is stuck.
I keep walking, I can't be late.
And that name of that song by that band I listened to when I cried is in your mouth.
Inhaled by that breath you just in-took because your sister is dying.
I am so sorry,
I lost my thought to comfort you.
But please keep the song, it made me feel better once.
My perfect, finger painted memories find a place they feel safe.
Dispersing themselves in the minds of kindergarteners, sitting on the rug barefoot.
They know they'll be put to good use here.
It's almost lunch time and they are hungry.
My 5th grade vocabulary list is pushing up daises with the woman who lived down the street.
That woman who lived alone, only going out to get Groceries and fix the light post when it was broken.
Her husband left long ago, and she was used to it.
My Vocabulary is keeping her company.

You.
You were there.
I think I saw you in my dreams.
But you weren't wearing that tie, And your hair was perfectly untidy.
I shake my head.
Clearing my mind and forcing you out.
Forcing you out of my frontal lobe, pushing you down the long, dark passage.
Out, into the world.
Into the world and onto my paper.
Jumbling you into my math problem.
I remember the quadratic formula and finish the equation.
Of course I remember the formula.

I only lock-up what I'm afraid to show the world.
My mind cages up the important things to protect them.

So I thank you James Dean.
Thank you Chewbacca and God for helping me realize they were only thoughts.
Fragments of my imagination that are unimportant and irrelevant.
Thoughts, Dreams and Memories, unimportant and meant to be forgotten.
Thank you for helping me get rid of them.

P.S. If it isn't too much to ask, please tell your fingers to press the keyboard lightly.
The lyrics to my future greatest hit is just beneath them.
Eh, never mind.
I'll just turn on the radio.