I fell into a puddle and thought of my brother. We were in Jersey and I saw my reflection. It wasn’t pretty. Cuts and bruises on face and an ear half ripped. I walked and walked and thought and thought. I need money, food, drinks and ideas.

I thought of Thomas, my grandfather. He was 175 pounds his whole life. He played piano and smoked a pipe. The quietest of men are often the most dangerous. A sailor, half Chilean, half Scottish. I never met him, just heard stories. They say he was a sweet and gentle man. Loved music and travel. Some times I become him in my dreams.

I’m skinny and I’m in a small city in India. The place smells like death and the children have no shoes. I’m drinking the best lager though, made with carrots and honey. Drunk on brew and life and death and curry. It’s a good day. I meet a young girl at the market. She takes me to her room and does things I’ve only dreamed of. A monkey sits in the corner watching.

I end up in China. I’m screaming at a man and striving after the wind. We are stuck in high waters. I fight with a man with a walking stick. He doesn’t fight fair so I toss his ass overboard. The crowd gives me a giant applause. They say he was angry and loud and ruining the party. I am given women and drinks until sunrise.

Words drop from my mouth, positive not negative. We are in New York City, the first time in America. I will give my family a new life, hope, a better quality of life. I am a hero and a martyr and wearing a new suit. I pull out my pipe and know this will be the best smoke I have ever had.

I wake up in a pothole with spit and tar. These things are sweet but won’t take me far. I get up, wipe my pants and go for a jog. I just start running faster and faster and ideas are hitting me in the face. I will get a job, lose weight, exercise and put down the bottle for a while. This seems good. I wake up again, it was just another dream.

I was a sailor on leave in this one. A few days off site and time to heal these blisters. I had not seen land in 9 months. My feet felt like hell and my throat was dry. Salt in the water and salt in the air and salt in my skin. My skin touched the ground. I went in a car and drove fast. I ate a good meal. Had much wine to drink. Found a room with a cot and purchased a woman.

I saw my brother again. This time it was for real, in person I think. It had been years. We were in Seal Beach, that’s California. We met in an old book store and took a walk in the sand. He was a meat cutter.  He had chicken and steak all over his jeans. We sipped from an old bottle of Irish and made plans for the future. Things didn’t turn out the way we had hoped. We made plans to see each other again and be productive. A hug and a high five and I’ll meet you here tomorrow. We walked away knowing that wasn’t going to happen.

I found an old boat with hole in the bottom. It was half on water and half on land. I hung some curtains and made it my home for a minute. I ate roast beef, 30 pounds of it with a little bit of cheese and bread. Drank Iced tea and ate spoonfuls of sugar. The sun finally came out, the sky was black for days. I looked at it as a sign. Put on some high waters and did some push ups. A stroll down the beach and I am born again. Found an old bicycle with a basket and a big fat seat. I jumped on that thing and headed for the city.

It’s time for some new dreams, ones that are positive. I need a new religion. I saw my reflection again. The cuts were fading and I almost looked handsome. I put some spit in my hair and combed it. I wrote in a journal. Today is day number one I said.