I reach back in my dreams. I reach back into my past. A trip of nostalgia. A memory game.
I laid in bed and curled into a position. I closed my eyes. I imagined all the times I lay on a bed, in all the rooms, and in all the houses. Walking through each one sequentially; occasionally having to make a revision - when you might of spent a couple months on the couch at a friends. … and right then, that's when you find yourself swallowed up in a pool of nostalgia.
I played this recently and my thoughts took me from life here at Hannah's parents to our bedroom in thedownstairs of Queen Victorian. And here is we return back again to the rustic home in rural Wisconsin before I am laying in a bed in a city a mile high from the sea. I unwind that year in Denver, watching it in reverse. My shivering body on a blue scooter cruising through the night. Tears and strong-felt emotions shared with me across white tables and admist a French Fry revolution – viva the revolution! To the short-lived days in DC in a the retired, car barn.
Then there is this mixture of beds spread across many continents and states as Hannah and I drove our way around the country to celebrate our wedding with as many people as possible and in as many places.
Then to Seattle. And it hops through the Seattle burroughs from Wallingford and then down the street in the shadow of the artery of the city runs, Interstate 5 Freeway. Across to Ballard in the neighborhood with a Naughty Dog and a corner market with those final touches needs to spruce up a meal. To the life lived above 45TH street down the street from naughty cake store. To the house in Magnolia with a bed at the top of the hill. Both above and below ground. In two different lives.
And I continued on and on … walking back until I was no longer sure. And then I started over again. And will until I can tell the story of all the places I have laid my head down to sleep.