I had a dream last night about an old friend. He’d given a few albums to a consignment shop, and they sold them at a steep discount. His disappointment flowed freely.
“I pushed them through the wrong door slot. They had more value to me than the shop asked for.”
The dream reminded me of my friendships over the years. I’m truly a rolling stone when it comes to keeping people in my life. A fault of my childhood experience. I once counted 13 schools in 12 years.
Make a friend. Bond deeply. Move on.
I wonder at times if there’ll be anyone at my funeral besides family. Like those independent heroes who kept my loneliness at bay during adolescence, I’ve become too isolated. Idealized. A mystery even to myself.
So, I keep my friends in my heart. They inspire the characters in the stories I write. They guide my interactions with new people I meet. They visit me in my dreams.
An old song of friendships never fully realized. Provided by Mark Knopfler and the Dire Straits.
Thought it was gonna be Walk of Life, didn’t ya?