Virtual Reality The American Dream

Virtual Reality The American Dream

Dreaming

Of Getting A Real Life

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Darkness makes stars shine brighter

I came out of sedation and saw tears in the crystal clear grays of my teacher’s eyes.

I didn’t want her to visit me in Saint Claire’s Hospital.

In spite of painful injuries, I had to call her to cancel an appointment for tutoring in her West Village studio filled with microchips and machinery on canvas.

I didn’t want her to wait for me and worry.

I’ll be fine.

They’re killing him. I’m not going to let that happened, she shouted at her husband who wanted to get back to work with a client’s new mainframe computer.

I am recovering memories. This is reality. This is what happened.

The unbelievable happened.

9/11 is the birthday of my girlfriend who wanted to marry me.

The loss of love is terror

That memory was suppressed.

The better angel of my nature struggles with the dragon born of unreasonable anger.

I was becoming cold and calculating like a machine.

There are other machines that have to be smashed.

I am the littlest of all evil machines.

I’ve been told I’m a sinner with the potential to become a saint.

My teacher believed, like my girlfriend believed, I’m a hero.

Then why do I feel a need to gouge eyes and crush skulls?

Only way to save me is by having Jesus intervene

or Hollywood.

Three Pit Bulls roamed in the night around the roof of a funeral parlor across the building where I live.

I saw the dogs fused into Cerberus, the three-headed hound that prevents souls from escaping the underworld.

They stopped barking when they looked down and saw me marvel at them.

One of the singers of the rock band, Three Dog Night grew up in The South Bronx.

To use lines from their hit song Magic Carpet Ride,

Tell me your dreams/ Fantasy will set you free

I’m lost in memories mangled by head injury.

Which way to reality again?

I saw the boy I was stumble over the ruins of a city and beyond there were more ruins.

He covered himself not because of being naked but ashamed of crying havoc and unleashing the dogs of war in retaliation for the abuse he had suffered.

Then he saw a girl, her face delighted.

Oh, there you are, her starry eyes spoke gently.

She extended her hand for me to take back my memories.

You’re not evil.

They want to make you evil.

Don’t listen to their voices.

Our fingertips touched like God touched Adam.

In the real world, I coughed up blood into a respirator

Later on, a reporter showed me pictures of bright lights that hovered across my building long enough for eyewitnesses to record the sights with smart phones.

The UFOs then bolted at unbelievable speeds into the sky.

The brightest light made the cover of The New York Post

I no longer consider myself American and I am sure some real Americans would concur.

Think of me as an energy-based alien able to assume human form and think of this country as The USS Enterprise.

I am on this ship because it is supposed to be heading into a future that works perfectly.

The ship is now off course. 

The ship is in danger.

Like you and your crew, captain,

I just want to go home.