PART 9

Dreams. Dreams. Dreams. My grandfather was getting sick… dying. Our family had him cloned. A 20 year younger version. Unspoken rules say we had to kill my grandfather off and then throw a party for the new one. Streamers and cheap paper cups filled with punch and my new grandfather looks so happy. It’s the version of my early, early childhood. Then the door opens. Then the real man walks in. Someone botched the job and he is making the celebration awkward for everyone. He is telling my family how wrong this is and I’m the only one listening.  Digression. It’s a strange thing to dream about those already gone. Maybe I am “sweet.” Maybe we all are in our own way. It’s the new step in the human evolutionary process. We are going to be able to eat rocks, fly for brief periods of time (like turkeys), and have extremely precious dispositions. Is that adaptation? What is the difference? I’ll have to google it. That is this generation’s answer to everything. My parents prayed. We google. Stop looking for a mark of the beast and check your home page. “Fire running across the back ground as Will throws a leg over his motorcycle with a crown of thorns wrapped around the engine. Close up to Will’s face as he puts on shades as he says…” Check your homepage.