I have a gnome in my piano. Yea...that's right...a gnome.
I had a dream a few years back. In it, I'm standing at my front door and this gnome through my white picket gate. He looks just like a gnome should, long white beard, pointy hat, rosy cheeks, smiling, and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. A good mischievous, not a bad one. He had all his stuff with him. It wasn't a lot. Just a small trunk, a bag, and jug of something seeming intoxicating in nature. He didn't say a word, he didn't have to. He wanted to move in. I know that look.
I wasn't scared. Well...I was for a second, then I just let it go. I'm always like that. When something scares me, I let it fill me up, then I let it all out like a breath. I deal with everything that way. The universe is akin to breathing. Obviously in living, it is literal, but it also helps as a reminder to dealing with things that have an ether about them. A floating. Intangible.
I treat these intangibles like breath. Fear. Happiness. Worry. Excitement. Etc.
So...back to the gnome. I looked at him welcoming and said, "Hello! Come on in! Make yourself at home." And he did just that. He came in, walked right up to my small upright piano. Opened a secret door on the right side of the Wurlitzer upright, put his stuff inside, waved and walked in. The door closed behind him and I never saw him again. Talk about a great guest! Not a peep. No fiery dragons or ice queens ever showed up. Damn. That would have been a high psilocybin adventure! Terence McKenna would be proud.
I know. I had a dream. It was just that, a dream. Dreams aren't real. Well...I think they are. I've rambled about this before, so I won't re-ramble it. Just saying...Anything that affects you is real. The ripple in the pond was made by something. Maybe it's not substantial, but it's something. Enough to change me anyway. Perception.
I wonder about my little gnome from time to time. What was his name? Could I pronounce it? What is he up to? Is he on the intergnome chatting to his gnomebook friends? Nogging about his last noog? Watching a little German Gnome Porn? Maybe he's not into all that and does it the old-fashioned way with pixie dust.
I had a dream a few years back. In it, I'm standing at my front door and this gnome through my white picket gate. He looks just like a gnome should, long white beard, pointy hat, rosy cheeks, smiling, and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. A good mischievous, not a bad one. He had all his stuff with him. It wasn't a lot. Just a small trunk, a bag, and jug of something seeming intoxicating in nature. He didn't say a word, he didn't have to. He wanted to move in. I know that look.
I wasn't scared. Well...I was for a second, then I just let it go. I'm always like that. When something scares me, I let it fill me up, then I let it all out like a breath. I deal with everything that way. The universe is akin to breathing. Obviously in living, it is literal, but it also helps as a reminder to dealing with things that have an ether about them. A floating. Intangible.
I treat these intangibles like breath. Fear. Happiness. Worry. Excitement. Etc.
So...back to the gnome. I looked at him welcoming and said, "Hello! Come on in! Make yourself at home." And he did just that. He came in, walked right up to my small upright piano. Opened a secret door on the right side of the Wurlitzer upright, put his stuff inside, waved and walked in. The door closed behind him and I never saw him again. Talk about a great guest! Not a peep. No fiery dragons or ice queens ever showed up. Damn. That would have been a high psilocybin adventure! Terence McKenna would be proud.
I know. I had a dream. It was just that, a dream. Dreams aren't real. Well...I think they are. I've rambled about this before, so I won't re-ramble it. Just saying...Anything that affects you is real. The ripple in the pond was made by something. Maybe it's not substantial, but it's something. Enough to change me anyway. Perception.
I wonder about my little gnome from time to time. What was his name? Could I pronounce it? What is he up to? Is he on the intergnome chatting to his gnomebook friends? Nogging about his last noog? Watching a little German Gnome Porn? Maybe he's not into all that and does it the old-fashioned way with pixie dust.