I had a grim recurring dream.
I'm stuck with no future
In the center of some mega city.
Feels like Detroit.
I have no education,
Not enough to matter anyway in a tanked economy.
Most people struggle bitterly to get by.
There are many people who become my half-friends.
But without nature it’s really hard to connect with anyone.
How can you when you worry about your future so much,
A slave to industry.
There’s always some little boss you fear a little,
Hovering over you like a buzzard,
Waiting for you to screw up and die.
You don’t want to lose your job when times are hard,
But you hate it almost enough not to care.
I worked six days a week in a dreaded, noisy factory,
For seven dollars an hour.
There was a woman in my dream,
But I didn’t have the energy to pursue her,
Since I was depressed about having a dismal future.
Even with this job I would never have much.
No house, no time off, and no real life.
Just a few half-friends I would never really get to know.
Acquaintances who kept some distance.
And all of us together didn’t have a clue on how to revolt,
Or change the system.
It was completely an industrial, soot-filled world,
And the closest thing we knew about nature
Was some cruddy city gutters.
We had never been in nature so we didn’t know
What the world was supposed to be like.
We became like clones,
Automated in our actions
Because our minds had been dulled
By the droned-out world of a smoky and overpopulated city.
An overpopulated world.
I remember having lunch with my half-friends.
We were in a busy hall,
With no windows,
But one wall missing so the gray, grungy light could seep in.
All the workers were sitting and eating at splintered wooden tables.
I couldn’t enjoy the food and company.
Eating with other people should always feel like a celebration.
But I had to go to work in an hour
And I was dreading (like always) the beginning of a ten-hour shift.
I hated the factory.
It was big, dark, and clunky,
Full of man-made machines with large steel wheels and cogs.
The woman I could see across the table had long brown, straight hair,
And a smooth, well proportioned face – a real beauty.
She was out of my reach,
Because I had no future in the world,
None that contained happiness anyway.
So I had no drive.
In my dream I didn’t even know about nature,
Or wild refuges.
I’m not sure if they existed anymore.
They might have been a thing of the past,
Centuries before when the sky was bright and blue.
I think of that woman mostly,
And what could have been.