“I live in my dream home now, but it took me a long time to get there,” he said.
He was the oldest in the group and for the most part, everyone else had similar ideas for their dream homes, in that they all revolved around mountains or farms. When it was my turn to share I passed, not wanting to add emotional disconnection to overarching chronological connections. In any case, the happiness in his voice made me smile as I wondered what he’d arrived to that convinced him he was home. I couldn’t ask what he meant because it was one of those circle time moments made square by zoom, and my sound and video were turned off.
dreams multiplied by sharing during a squaring of unequal pairing feels like contrast comparing. if our skin were vinyl and tongues disposable record needles, how many times would they ask us to open wide before covering us in dusty jackets of disguised reality?