The Gray Dog’s Note: At least one or two people have noticed I have not written much in the past few months.  I have tried to.  I have started and stopped dozens of times.  I’m not sure there is a point in it any longer.  I’m not sure how often I will continue to post at my BLOG or any other.  I feel the need to take some form of direct action instead of writing to a handful of readers.  I’m just not sure what that activity may be.  Any suggestions?  I thought that participating in GOE in March would provide a much needed outlet.  In that regard, I was both wrong and disappointed.  But, that’s another story.  No, what follows is a bedtime story for the 21st Century.  Sweet Dreams.

Did you ever have nightmares as a child?  You know, perhaps some beastly nocturnal visage that would scare the bejeebers out of you? Or perhaps you were simply falling helplessly through air waiting for the inevitable impact.  Awakening with a scream that prompted a late night bedside visit from your mom, sleep would not come easy for the rest of the night.

Between the ages of three and six, I was plagued by a recurring nightmare in which I was being abducted by a stranger I never saw.  This nameless, faceless creature would always approach from behind, whisking me into the air, away from the comfort and security of my bed and begin walking through my family’s small basement apartment toward the front door. As we passed by my parents I would cry out but the sound would stick in my throat.  The more I tried unsuccessfully to scream the more panicked I became.  My mother would look in my direction and smile. The dream always ended with our passing through the front door as my parents seemingly unaware or unconcerned that I was gone, went about their business.  Then I would awaken with a start.  Sweaty, rapid pulse, panicked.  After a short while, the panic would subside, but the feelings of despair, frustration and hopelessness would linger throughout the day. 

Nearly five decades have passed since that disturbing nighttime phantasm was conjuring unimaginable horror in a six year old boy.  It was merely a childhood apparition to simply outgrow and be forgotten.  Yet, fifty years later, it has returned. No longer content to simply manifest itself as an occasional nocturnal disturbance, that old familiar sense of despair has crept back into my life to become my constant companion.  Hopelessness has replaced optimism as a way of life and a pervasive sense of dread enshrouds me as I wander aimlessly through a surreality that finds me rapidly vacillating between morbid despondency and irrational rage.      

Remnants of that childhood nightmare began to resurface last October, as Jose Compean and Ignacio Ramos were convicted and sentenced to prison for simply doing their job as border patrol agents.

Continue reading, "There Is No Us in U.S."

Contributed by The Gray Dog on June 9, 2007 at 11:43 AM in Current Affairs, Dem Dumbness, G W Bush, Islamism Delenda Est, Patriotism, Politics, The Gray Dog | Permalink

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