Saturday, July 12, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
I've been dreaming about my family lately. All the passed on aunts, uncles, cousins, and yes my Grandma. I come from a multi-ethnic family. Soon most American families will be like mine or Obama's.
That's the America I love. A nation of nations. Anyway I'm a creole black with a chinese grandmother. This is why I never believed in race. Especially the black, white divide. It didn't seem to have anything to do with us. It just was a crazy thing that others did.
For example. I never shared the affection that many of my black friends have for Harlem or similar places. My love was, and is for Chinatown. This is where my Grandma lived, and where I was happy as a child.
'But to the Dreams. My folks seemed to be speaking to me. Letting me know I wasn't alone, and not forgotten.
These were very 'good' Dreams.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
I had a very vivid dream long ago about a monastery, and skyblue robed monks. There were newly built pagodas sitting in pastel green fields of grass. I could smell the fresh cut wood they were made from. I remember in this dream running up the new wooden stairs with many other boys.
Monastery lads decked in simple robes the color of the afternoon sky.
I remember gardens of crystals, and tall dark blue mountains in the distance. There was music too. A kind I's never heard before. Played by instruments I didn't recognize.
I always felt that someday I would find this place. I always felt that this was where I was supposed to be, and this dream was calling me home.