Anthology Complex HTML version
Composition 1, Part 1
THIS ANTHOLOGIC LIFE
Last night, I had a dream. I'm walking alongside a row of parked cars in broad daylight, peering
through each car's driver seat window as I pass by. This goes on for a while, and each time I think
I'm at the final car, there is another one. I start to think that this will never end. It reminds me of
how you can draw a circle on a piece of paper, and then put a dot anywhere on the circle and as you
attempt to move away from the dot by traveling along the circle, you are actually moving closer to
As much as you want to escape from the dot, you are going to end up going right back to it. You
might think that you are moving on from some horrible part or event in your life, but really you
might just be ticking the time away for when you have to relive it. I keep thinking I'm at the end of
this long row of parked cars, but I'm probably still at the beginning. Or back at the beginning all
As I pass by each car, I see that every driver's seat is empty, but of course they are empty
considering they are parked. Most people probably don't sit inside a parked car unless they are
waiting for something, or in my case, someone. Every driver's seat is empty until I finally get to the
car that's at the end of the row, the last car before you reach the intersection.
This car is also parked, but running, as if it is ready to stop living such an idle life, but at the same
time too reluctant to do so. There is a man in the driver's seat, peering through the windshield of his
car, watching all of the cars ahead drive by. Watching them as they pass by under the green light.
Watching these cars as they serve their purpose, as they function properly.
As he turns his head to look at me, the day turns into night, and the face I thought he would have is
nonexistent. He tells me that we can fool some of the people all of the time, maybe even all of the
people some of the time, but we can never fool all of the people all of the time. That we can never
fool ourselves no matter how deep inside our mind we think we are.
Before I could ask him what he meant, he was gone, but his car was still there, running. It then
started to rain, and a storm immediately followed. I looked up at the rain and lightning, and then
back down at the car, and now the driver door was open, as if the car was asking me to the take the
wheel. For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to sit in the driver's seat, and that's when I woke
After I wake up and think for a few seconds, I write down the dream in my composition notebook.
I write down all of the dreams I can remember because I believe it's possible that the people we are
in our dreams could be another us in another life spawned by the decisions we didn't make in this
life. How different our life could have been and how different we could have been as a person if
one little decision was altered.
In this life, I made the decision to go to college after high school for a couple of years, and I got
what I needed to get to be successful. In a dream I had years ago, I was homeless. My assumption