CHAPTER 68 Hang It All on a Dream

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copyright 2015 Chris Smith All rights reserved.

Dad had expected to have more airtime, or to at least be able to influence the show more on what they focused on. But it didn't happen. So he didn't get to talk about his Dream of collecting veteran's interviews, until the very end of the show. And even then he had maybe thirty seconds. But he did get to talk about a little of it, and share his email address, which was great.

When my Parents arrived back home from the radio station they were in a foul mood. Mom was pissed at Dad because he didn't read something she had written for him on the air.

"That's not really why you're upset Mom," I told her.

"It's not?" she replied in a sarcastic tone.

"No, it's not. You're really upset with what's been going on [in our lives]," Dad said.

I stood there, waiting for another fight to unfold and hoping I'd have the strength to separate them to their corners if it got too bad.

"I'll be honest with you guys. I'm nearing the end of my ropes. I'm nearing the point where I just throw up my hands in the air and say 'FUCK IT'. I can't take much more of this. It's killing me. Every day I'm doing everything I know of to get the results we want. I'm dealing with the Banks and the realtors," Dad said in a heated semi-yelling voice.

"You're doing great," said Mom with a hint of sarcasm.

"You don't believe that. I can tell by the tone of your voice. Don't placate me. If you think you can do better, then you do it. You figure this all out. You deal with the Banks and the realtors. I'm sorry I didn't understand what you wanted me to say on the radio. I already know you think I fucked it up. Because when you get upset you just keep eating away at me [making a sign with his hand of it eating away at the air]. I thought I was going to have more influence over the topic. But I didn't. I did the best job I could. If you think you can do better, then you get on the radio. I don't know what else I could have done."

Mom fired back with an, "I don't even know what's going on until a Sheriff comes by and slaps an Eviction notice on our door."

It was a total lie. Mom didn't want to know. Her mind didn't want to remember, so she didn't. It was that simple, as far as I was concerned. Plus I found it interesting how her mind twisted information around to suit her needs and protect her from the reality of the situation. I'd heard numerous conversations Dad had with her, telling her everything, every step of the way.

"I've gone over everything in sordid detail. The reason you don't remember is that your mind is blocking it out as a coping mechanism to deal with the stress. And the stress of everything has just made your memory worse or more extreme," Dad said.

Then he said, "Unfortunately my mind doesn't work like that."

"Yeah, there are several things I'd like to not remember too," I said to them both.

So over their lunch Dad talked about how important it was to keep ourselves in the right frame of mind. It was so easy to be reactive to all the bad things that were happening around us. It was too easy to get upset with each other.

Dad told us about the dream he had the night before on what happens on Tuesday. He said he got a call from our funding source Tuesday morning who asked him, "How can I help you?"

In his dream he told them about the Farm, and they agreed to help us. Dad bought back the two parcels at the auction that afternoon, and put offers in on the Parcel A and Parcel B that day as well. Then he spent all of Tuesday running around dealing with it.

On Wednesday the Sheriff Deputy came up and they did the Lock-Out but we put security personnel up here on the Farm so we didn't have to worry about our stuff. And we all stayed down at the local motel for a couple nights.

"I like your dream," I said.

"Yeah, I liked it too when I was dreaming it," Dad said.

Later that afternoon, Dad and I saw the skunk babies who were all nose. They were awfully cute! I got my video camera out and got some footage of them with their mom.

Mom said later that day there had been a silver sports car type down at the A-Frame on Parcel A when they left that morning for the radio interview. She said the car had still been there when they had come home that afternoon. Dad didn't think whoever was there had access to the inside of the house.

Even though my Parents were not given official access to the home on Parcel A, they still looked out for the parcel. Sometimes the front door would be left open, from whoever had looked through the house and failed to close the door. So my Parents would always go down and close and lock the front door. The Banks should have paid them a fee for security! Seriously.

I took another walk in the evening. It seemed like I was going from an afternoon walker to an evening one. It was the quietest time on the Farm. And the least likely time to run into any interlopers and prospective buyers. I went up to check the plants I had moved outside on the deck of my old home on Parcel B, the Cabin, refill the bird water, and change one of the outside light bulbs.

Whenever I went to check on my plants and the bird water, I always checked all the doors and windows. It didn't appear like anyone had been back on the porch. But it still bothered me to come face to face with the two notices on my home, the official Eviction Notice, and the "Better Move Your Shit Out or We'll Sell It" Notice.

I took my binoculars with me and looked down at the house on the Parcel A, the A-Frame. No one was there either. The notices were still on the door. The gate for the yard and the front door of the house were all closed.

My Parents finally got a chance to sneak down to their old temporary house and our old office, the Glass House, after three days, and take a nice hot shower. In contrast I had taken another two pot shower outside. And the water had been lukewarm. But at least I was clean. There was something to be said for being clean.

While I couldn't clean my life or my soul, I could clean my skin. And for now, that would have to be enough.


"If you break your neck, if you have nothing to eat, if your house is on fire—then you got a problem. Everything else is inconvenience. Life is inconvenient. Life is lumpy. Learn to separate the inconveniences from the real problems. You will live longer."

Sigmund Wollman quoted by Robert Fulghum


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