Roger That

​Roger Wright was in my dreams again. He is a recurring figure in my dreams. He is someone I was friends with in High School. We never spent a lot of one-on-one time together but belong to the same gang and played football together. Our big adventure was our football coach allowing us to run an errand together to some other local town or place. The chores gave us an official license to skip school and Roger a chance to hone his skills with a manual shift pick-up truck. Which shall I say tongue firmly in cheek were not the smoothest of rides. We would end up driving the rural roads around our hometown talking and enjoying the ride and the freedom. The chores at least for us were never the agenda. In fact, we returned at least once two hours later without what we were supposedly to have gone for in the first place. 

Roger was the first of my high school friends I know of to die. I thought, for a brief moment, of going to his funeral. But although I was part of the ‘gang’ I was also an outsider and different. At the time I did not drink, swear, smoke pot, hunt, and to a certain extent was a city slicker/townboy amongst country boys. I had a different attitude about girls they were friends first and sexual objects second (at least as much as my hormones and spiritual growth would let that happen). An attitude that has probably led to me suppressing my sexuality more than once not wanting to ruin my friendships with women. Probably for the most part this has been for my own good. But for all these reasons I did not go.

The dream is a returning one where on one of our last days of school in the cafeteria and no one else is there. I am feeling left out. Most times I am alone but now Roger is more frequently with me. I am dealing with the inevitable departing into the world we all must do. I had some great times in high school but I realize I will not be back or could not go ‘home again’. So, me and Roger talk about this. I long for the others to come and lighten our emotional sadness over the end. That is the dream at its core.

I know in my waking hours Roger comes to me in times of change. Things are happening in my life I do not want but know I can and should not stop. In this case Dorothy, my youngest, is leaving. When I talk to my wife she cries and has trouble with the emotions it brings up within her. Dorothy cringes at the emotions we express. She does not think of it as a big deal. I was there once but age has led me to know the preciousness of each moment. I learned awhile back from my friend the French painter Claude Monet that each moment has a particular beauty and quality that will never be experienced or seen again in the same way. My relationship with Dorothy has been altering each day as she has grown but now a bigger break/change is upon us and things will never be quite the same. I rejoice at her growing into a wonderful person who I increasingly enjoy but already miss the nearness and quiet charming presence she has offered these last years. I mourn at this loss.

Thus, Roger shows up in my dreams. That is okay I enjoyed his company in high school and it is nice to have him return these many years later. I have a feeling as I grow older Roger will come to see me more often. I suspect and who knows when the inevitable occurs maybe I will see him on the Otherside.