The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued

Page 450

The time-consuming, eight day trip, no doubt clearly foreseeable by the enlightened, had taken him only an un-enlightened and decaying half century. But now, he thought that he was finally home. The thoughts of what might have been if he was brighter and more fortunate were ones he had to forget. The past was gone and now irrelevant. It was simple as that as he had managed to think in his busy rational moments. He had long prior learned how to hold back the publicly embarrassing tears, saving them for his ample idle solitude. The Rider rubbed away his own accumulating corner deposits.

He came to a complete halt on the bounteously recalled, but presently treeless hill. He overlooked the town. He could only now try to fool himself by doubting that it was the place he did once seek to leave. Things had changed. That person was not him; it had to be someone else caught in the inevitably, drowning whirlpool. The harsh realities of what he truly believed, but didn’t want to remember, only served as a testimony to his long term and wasting, weak culpability. The thought had to go away, if he had any chance of keeping on, though he knew that his keeping on had no relevance to anyone but to him, Spotty, and possibly his present boss. He recognized this depressed mindset was just another manifestation of self-indulgence; popular with the privileged and their affected mimics, while in reality he