Perchance to Dream

by Alastair Nelson

To be, or not to be? I remember asking myself that very question. Every day, in fact. To be, or not to be? And every day, for years, I stuck the needle in my arm and chose: not to be. What a shame. What a waste.

Years! Existing, sure… but certainly not being.

Possibly, “not being” isn’t the proper way to put it. Put properly, perhaps a “not-being’’ is what I was? A phantom. A wraith. For, is it really “to be” at all, if what you’re busy being is but a busy ghost? Busy is what I was, wasn’t it? Boy, was I busy. Staying high is a full-time job and hard work, when you’re hardly working. Ah, an addict’s work is never done – and ghosts make the best addicts. I was quite the addict, so it stands to reason I must’ve been quite the ghost. Surely, only a ghost would haunt the loved ones he left behind, unable to feel remorse. Only a ghost would brave the blocks between 6th and 3rd without any thoughts of self-preservation. Only a ghost would, despite the heat of summer, don long sleeves in hopes of being seen by the living. After all, what is August in Florida to someone who resides in Hell?

Hell. I remember the dragons, promising a return to the land of the living at every turn if I could but catch one. Dragons: vicious, merciless beasts, one and all, but I chased them relentlessly. I battled them tirelessly, to no avail. Turns out, they’re impossible to catch. There’s the rub.

So, I started climbing. I’m climbing still. Though my fingers bleed and my muscles burn, I can see the sunrise on the horizon, and I smile. Because to climb, is to be.

Having been to the other side, I’ll welcome the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune; because I know that to bear the brunt of the sling or the arrow and its sting is to feel something. This flesh, my flesh, is only heir to heartache because I have, by comparison, felt love. So I’ll worry not over what dreams may come to me. They’ll come to the courageous and cowardly alike, eventually. No, I’ll remain courageous, shield my eyes as I look to the future, and query instead: “What dreams may come true?”

…‘Tis a consummation to be devoutly wished for.