Northern Ireland, so dark, so cold, and nothing inviting my touch. Nothing asking for confirmation but rather pushing and shoving for more distance. Crackling wood-splitting, careful steps on leaves matching my hesitant movement, large wings coming near, why are these noises here? Why are they following me as if I've done something to offend them or worse, harmed them. Damn, say something, tell me, what is it? What have I done? What do you want from me? Nothing but the noises answer. Not walking or running just moving faster and faster following no direction accept away, faster I move away. The noises are louder now, my hands are over my ears looking all around while always moving away. I don't deserve this, I've done nothing wrong. All my life I have tried to do right, it's not my fault, you know that! You know I've tried my hardest, just leave me alone! Please! Faster movement, louder noises. It's on top of me, all over me, no, no stop! stop! please!
"Ahhhh! Oh, oh wow, oh excuse me, I'm really sorry!" Damn, really, I just knocked this guys drink all over him. What the hell is going on here, jesus I'm all sweaty.
"Ah, no worries mate, it happens to the best of us, you'll be right" The passenger motions to stewardess with his glass for a refill with two fingers up. "Yeah mate, a gin tonny I'l set straight, on me"
"Ah, no please you don't have to do that"
"Don't be ridiculous mate, you got much bigger worries than a gin and tonny"
"What do you mean"
"Mate you been tossin and runnin and monin and twistin a good part of the last hour. Yeah, somethin nasty chasing you in your sleep eh!"
Wow, I must have been dreaming that same dream, again. Why do I keep dreaming about this story that Grandpa told me about years ago when I was little kid. About him doing something bad, back in his Irish homeland.
Johnny, Johnny B. O'Reilly is headed East to meet up with Grandpa, Johnny B. O'reilly the first. He lives in the deep South. An area so flat and swampy and still that the alligators crawl up on the highway just for kicks. A sort of "Russian Roulett" either the car swerves erratically or the gator turns into a speed bump. Either way it's better than committing suicide.
Yep, grandpa O'Reilly lives in beautiful Jacksonville Florida in a turn of the century single walled one bedroom house covered with moss draped over it from a huge hanging tree. His 57 Chevy Belair is just waiting for me to get there to take me and Grandpa O'Reilly out West so Johnny O'Reilly the second can spend time with him before it's too late.
To be cont'd Gotta go-no time!
Causes Ron McElroy Supports
Surfrider Foundation, LA Mission, World Vision,Green peace, UCSB.