I had a bad dream last night.
I was standing on the playground of my favourite elementary school, but I was old. My hair had fallen out, I had wrinkles. My friends and family were standing around me, and they weren’t happy.
“We didn’t like that status update Tony. We worry about you.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine. It was just clickbait.” I assured them.
“Why did you write that article? We don’t understand it. You upset Grandma.”
“I’m sorry Grandma! I’ll delete it when I can.”
“Why are you so weird? When will you get a real job? What’s wrong with you? Why did you write that?”
“No. I’m happy! It’s ok. It can’t all be good. I’ll edit it!”
And at that point, I realized I couldn’t delete those posts. I was stuck in this playground, with my Aunts, ex girlfriends, best-friends, old bosses and neighbours. I could never delete that article, and it would continue to confuse and destroy lives…forever and ever, and ever, and ever.
And then I woke up.
Outside my window, a small yellow bird hopped and chirped, riding a branch that swayed in the gentle fall wind.
I got up, had a coffee, and wrote something new.
I won’t know if it’s any good until I fall asleep.