Dream a Little Dream of Me

[shanmonster]

I feel like I've lived many lives in thirty-four years. Parts of my timeline seem incongruous with others. Am I really the same person who lived off the land in the Rockies, danced on stage for thousands, was accused of being able to transmute into a spider, acted with a travelling Shakespearean troupe, used a dog team and sled to gather wood for the winter, proselytized from door to door, saw a man's corpse pressed beneath a red tractor, trained in kung fu with exhausted muscles in cold rain, helped birth goats, spun industrial music on late-night radio, shared a ham and cheese sandwich with a race horse, stood cold and naked before a room full of artists, got married on a theatre stage, and climbed apple trees at night to howled with the coyotes? I can't reconcile all of these things, yet they're part of my reality. And here I sit in front of a computer, waiting for anyone to call me to rent a hotel room. It's all rather surreal.