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  • Improbable Dreams 30" x 52" Oil on canvas

    . . . wake up

    People I grew up with are not the same anymore. The ones that are still
    around have changed. We don't want the same things at all. At first I didn't understand. I must have been a pain; always coming around, showing them things they didn't want to see, telling them things they didn't want to know, asking them why a little too much. I was young. I thought I knew. Now I admit I still don't know why. Or even why I keep asking. I just don't bother them about it anymore.

    Why bother anybody about it anymore? The dreams we had were not the same. The dreams I had probably didn't make sense. I just had to have them. I was young. I believed. Now I feel silly. Back then, what else could I have done? Without them there was nothing else. There was just nothing. Even if they could never be true, I had to dream. They had to be wrong.

    Now I can't go back. I can't go back and I can't go forward. Was I stupid to believe then, or am I stupid not to believe now? What ever this is — my dream or their reality, there's no way to know who is better off.

    They were right about something though. It is lonely out here without them.

    Detail — Improbable Dreams