Tag Archives: dream

Growing up in Honolulu I knew a girl.  Her name was Sasha.  She was a few years older than I was.  I was two.

I knew Sasha through my Uncle Ray.  One day, we were in a room of a hotel that my Uncle was employed at.  I don’t have a clear recollection of why we were there.  Perhaps he was babysitting us, or maybe we went to visit him, anyone’s guess will be as good as mine.

Sasha and I were comfortably sitting on the soft feathery carpet, avoiding eye contact for most of the duration of our stay.  Meanwhile, Uncle Ray drenched himself into the single seat couch, looking out the window and staring into the dark eyes of Diamonhead Crater.  I sat there criss cross applesauce style and still as a photograph, not uttering a single word to Sasha or my Uncle.  She, on the other hand, was seven notches more active than I was.  Sasha drowned herself into the television set presenting some program I had no interest in. Every commercial break or so, she’d turn around and indulge herself into the one detail of this memory I remember the most – mini sugar powdered donuts.  She didn’t share with me.  What a bitch.

So I continued to just sit there, ogling at her crumby plump rings of sweet pastries. Suddenly my mouth began to water; to keep myself busy I played with my fingertips and nervously fondled with the carpet like it was my mom’s hair.  My attention began to move frantically from Sasha, the television set, my Uncle Ray, my fingers, and to the coveted donuts.  This process stayed on repeat to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore.  So I did what any other hungry fat, isolated little island boy would do.

With my quick-like-a-cat greedy little hands, I pounced on one of her delicious donuts while she wasn’t looking and shoved it into my mouth.  Sasha didn’t catch me in the act.  She did, unfortunately, realize that her once family of four donuts were down to three.  She also couldn’t help but notice my peculiar white, powdery lips and my cheeks bulging at maximum capacity.

Fast forward nineteen years.  I’m living the Bay Area in California. At the time I had a girlfriend.  I was twenty-one.

We’re drying two baskets of clothes at a laundromat we frequented.  Being the big, bulky guy that I am, I get pretty hungry while staring at the colors and the whites go round and round.  Lucky there’s some neighboring food places – a Mexican restaurant, a liquor store, a 7-Eleven, and a donut shop.

I chose the donut shop.  I treated myself to an apple fritter and decided to get an old fashioned chocolate doughnut for her.  I devoured my pastry in two seconds while she gracefully and neatly picked at hers, breaking off small portions seemingly every five minutes.

So I continued to just sit there, on top of the counter ogling at her crumby rugged ring of chocolate covered pastry.  Suddenly my mouth began to water; to keep myself busy I played with my fingertips and nervously fondled with my Dr. Pepper cap.  My attention began to move frantically from my girlfriend, the clockwise spinning dryers, my cap, and to the coveted donut.  This process stayed on repeat to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore.  So I did what any other hungry, fat grown up living in the Mainland would do.
I asked her if I could have a bite.  And without hesitation she said, “Go ahead!”  I gently broke me off a piece, popped it in my mouth, and life was good.  I finally earned redemption for stealing a donut nearly two decades prior.

Fast forward thirteen years.  Dare to D.R.E.A.M.; donuts rule everything around me.  And this shirt is available for purchase here:

https://www.IRUNSF.com/onlinestore

Oh, and I’m sorry Sasha.  Wherever you are.

— – —-

Originally written in 2005.  D.R.E.A.M. segment was added for the ’19.

Dream

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Watts

Let’s suppose that you were able, every night, to dream any dream you wanted to dream, and you would, naturally, as you began on this adventure of dreams, you would fulfill all your wishes.  You would have every kind of pleasure during your sleep, and after several nights you would say, ‘Well, that was pretty great.’

I knew a guy named Mogi Kenzaburo, we played little league baseball together in the 2nd grade.  He wasn’t very good, in fact he was quite terrible.  One play, Jorge Alvarado of the Tigers hit a molasses slow grounder down the third base line and Mogi swiftly kicked it back toward home plate and yelled “GOAL!” then proceeded to celebrate with himself.

Just himself.

As I and the rest of our teammates groaned in disgust, the girls in the stands swooned over his misconception between baseball and soccer.  This is because he batted 1.000 with the girls.  If nothing else, it was impressive to witness, even at a young age.  I’m sure (more so hope, to put on my full display of jealousy front and center) his batting average went down since then.  We lost touch after the 3rd grade, I was that kid that moved every other year.  But I did see Mogi did well for himself into his adult years – attended the University of Oregon, snagged a nice job, met a nice girl, and eventually learned the difference between a shortstop and a goal post.

Instagram tells me that they never married, but they did have a daughter fairly young, who has now logged 8 total years into this world and, get this – plays second base for the Epiphany Eagles – the same team we suited up for when we were kids.

Cue “The Circle of Life” by Sir Elton John, please.

But now let’s, uhm, let’s have a surprise, let’s have a dream which isn’t under control.  Well, something is gonna happen to me that I don’t know what it’s gonna be.  Then you would get more and more adventurous and you would make further and further out gambles as to what you would dream and, finally, you would dream where you are now.

Do you know what Instagram also tells me?  Instagram also tells me that Mogi has cancer, and has been battling for his life for the last two years.

Cue “The Circle of Life” by Sir Elton John, please.

Mogi’s Instagram shows his best days and his best days only, though I have more than enough understanding about cancer that when it’s not so good, the last thing you want around you is a camera.

This brings up that age-old question, why do bad things happen to good people?

Because life isn’t fair?  Well, I think we all have a cold, hard grasp of that mundane perspective.  Let’s take another route, and see this from a different vantage point of what life actually is rather than isn’t.

Life, is free.

Life is free to love, and free to hurt.  Free to give and free to take, free to build then free to crumble.  Life will see you, then will ignore you.  You will gain and you will lose.  At the end of it all we can only hope that our time is well-balanced between the bright and the dark.  Because too much pain is a bad thing, right?  Guess what, so is too much bliss. And perhaps this was never the point – rather than attempt to find the beauty in struggle, understand that struggle implies peace, and that already makes it a beautiful thing.

My childhood friend Mogi is dying.  But you know what?  Mogi is still living, too.  I too, am dying and living.  And so is the person that ran just passed me, and the person that’s right in front of you, and the people in this building, the person in the room next to yours.  The people in the elevator you’re with and the driver of your rideshare you took earlier.  Everyone you’ve ever met, and everyone you’ll never see in your entire life are all dying, and all living.

If you awaken from this illusion and you understand that black implies white, self implies other, life implies death. You can feel yourself, not as a stranger in the world, not as something here on probation, not as something that has arrived here by fluke, but you can begin to feel your own existence as absolutely fundamental. What you are basically, deep, deep down, far, far in, is simply the fabric and structure of existence itself.
–           Alan Watts 

You are free to spend life as you may; bunt single implies goal.
–           Michael Arce

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