Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Category: Dreams

  • The Difference

    I was at a small birthday celebration for a friend Friday night when I overheard one of the attendees talking about being a foster parent. I listened as best I could over the din of the bar. You should have heard this woman talk about some of the kids she had come through her house – she talked with joy, pride and sadness, sadness that some of them were now back in danger again. She’s also a teacher, elementary school I think, and that in itself should be considered a superhero, the foster parent doubly so.

    I’m a product of Foster Care, I wasn’t really in any danger, but I was one of those kids that lacked proper supervision and was amok in most parts of my life. When I entered my foster home for the first time I tried to talk myself into running the first day – nothing bad had happened, but these people just didn’t understand me and couldn’t possibly keep up with me. My Ma had plenty of foster kids before me and was more than a match for my teenaged ideas of right and wrong.

    My Ma and Pa held me responsible for my own actions – I had to wake up to my own alarm clock for school each day, I had chores, I received allowance, I had dinner every night at the table with the family (seemed stupid at the time, but it was something I came to look forward to each day and long for today). In my foster home I didn’t fear anyone coming home drunk in a rage to beat up anyone else, I didn’t worry about having food for dinner, I found peace. I wrote a poem about it a few years ago you can find here: (Foster Home) and I’ve pasted it here too

    brown house now blue

    gray hair then and now too

    Ma in rocker knitting

    Pa in recliner

    fear crawls up my spine

    my bags packed, all that is mine

    social worker pressures shoulder

    keeps me from running

    dinner together, conversation and laughter

    alien world, foreign notions – food a plenty

    tears delay that first night,

    though hard fought, buried deep

    rules, responsibility, chores

    wake up myself for school

    wash dishes, mow lawns

    allowance? what’s that?

    foster brother and i

    share smokes and stories

    on the front patio

    now enclosed, then exposed

    three years teach me, show me love me

    five years gone, back i come to make right

    show them i’ve found the light

    love unconditional, no exceptions

    dc bound, to find my way

    just call anytime

    no questions asked

    you can always come home

    breast cancer scare,

    tears unhindered

    stream down my cheeks

    fear strikes deep and hard

    twenty years later, college bound

    ma and pa, rhonda and greg

    come to see the sites,

    nope!

    to see me off, wish me well, show me love

    the family i didn’t choose

    forced upon me by action of youth

    became the one that mattered most

    showed me the truth of love itself

    When my Pa died a few years ago it … it still brings tears to my eyes… I decided to change my name to honor him. That’s the kind of impact they had on me – I owe my life to them (to AA too, yes) and have had so much opportunity as a result of everything they gave me.

    I’m not a foster parent, I’m not very patient with kids, but I urge you to be. I urge you to be the person that makes a difference in the life of a child, show them that not all parents are irresponsible, hurtful and mean. Show them a path that leads to a better life… and make sure you hug them, kids need hugs.

    Here are some links about foster care, if you’re interested give them a read and help make a difference.

    http://www.adoptuskids.org/for-families/how-to-foster

    http://www.fosterparents.com

    http://nfpaonline.org

    http://www.kidspeace.org/Foster.aspx

  • Demons and Toast

    Dream One

    It was in the horse and buggy days and I found myself defending my allegiances. My accuser had gone so far as to say I could never be trusted again so I related a recent experience to him.

    “Indeed, I have recently been stabbed through the chest with a demons sword.” I said

    “I knew it, you’ve been corrupted. You are a taint upon all we’ve tried to do here. Kill him now.” he insisted

    “As you all know it’s been many years now they’ve been trying to take my life so I had precautions set in place should just such a thing occur.” I said to the wide eyes and gaping mouths around me, “I had a spell set in place that would draw from my library a silver container containing an ancient rune that would be delivered to my familiar back at my estate – that container would open in front of him informing him of my predicament and giving him the means by which to purify me once again.”

    In everyones mind sure enough they see a silver container being opened in slow motion in front of an ugly faced creature, no doubt my familiar.

    “This proves nothing, even this vision you’ve place in our minds could be some kind of trick” he spat

    “True, but it’s all I can offer and I’m afraid I cannot allow you to assault my reputation any more” I said and then turned and faded away.

     

    Dream Two

    There was a stage play going on, overly made up characters and everyone was a bit off. Suddenly the actress on stage stopped her line, put her hands on her hips and stared out at the end of the auditorium. We all turned to look and there was the male lead – clownish make up, victorian ensemble and rage just coming through like nothing. He screamed things at the actress and she screamed  things back before rushing the stage and declaring “I’ll never be on stage with a has been like you” to which she pointed to the floor of the stage he was standing on.

    The audience erupted with laughter, I turned to look at everyone and there was Jason S motioning to me – Jamez, he said, the toast is fresh hurry before it’s all gone. Before I could even make it over to him there were hands reaching out for a piece of the toast everywhere and I was crowd surfing trying to make my way through the people.