Born Of Dreams & Intentions

This little bit entitled Born Of Dreams & Intentions was written by me nearly a decade ago during my (very) short stint as a columnist at Adult Backwash. I’m a little embarrassed to show these things to you; but these things have made me who I am today… And honesty is the best policy, right?

I was born of dreams & intentions. Of illicit touches & mingling of fluids. Of hope colliding with fate.

I was born of a mother, too young in years & experiences. Filled with hope, she believed she could save. She would age under fear, pain & burden. Those gifts brought her eventual maturity & a resilience that ensured her survival, if not mine.

I was born of a father too tortured to save. Too victimized by his own family, his maturity could not arrive to lift him above his experiences. He was branded by the pain, and perpetuated sins, with enough pain in his soul to realize his errors, adding to his burdens. The shame would eventually make him leave. Not just us, but the world. He would take his way out, perhaps with the hope that all of him, his badness, would leave with him. But as you will see, I inherited it.

I grew up, largely silent. Hiding behind the brambles & briars, where things are damp, but not lush; where things are cold and best left alone. I played with those that most do not see. It is safe to say that while my mother always loved me, understanding was not as free. When you are loved, but not understood, the dreams others have for you become expectations. If those expectations have dictated my actions, it’s my father’s agony that has molded me the most.

Like many a child missing a parent, I fantasized about my real family. But instead of waiting in hope to hear that my real royal family would soon come to claim me, I remain calm in the knowledge that I am spawn of some other kind, and that my fate a predetermined return to them all.

I know not exactly who they are, but I feel them, these dark little people with the watchful eyes. My kind.

One day it’s the kelpies which will come for me. They will grab me & take me to the sea.

Until then, I suffer the dark sucking, swirling, eddies of despair here on dry land.

Trackbacks & Pings

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *