Put A Bullet In My Head
Some of you may remember watching a television show called The Greatest American Hero. It was about a high school teacher named Ralph who is given a suit by extra terrestrials that provides him with superhuman powers such as the ability to fly and super strength. It sounds simple enough except Ralph loses the instructions and is forced to learn how to use his powers by trial and error.
One of my strongest memories from the show is watching Ralph fly because he wasn’t graceful like Superman. ThereÂ was no “Up Up and Away.” Ralph would go hurtling through space and only be stopped by crashing into the side of a building or some other stationary object.Â It usually made the 11 year-old boy version of me laugh pretty hard.
I mention this because the show has been on my mind. During the past couple of weeks I have had the kind of vivid dreams that make you wake up disoriented and confused because for a brief moment you aren’t quite sure where you are. Each time I woke up I felt like someone had given me instructions or advice that was very important.
During that first moment of wakefulness I knew exactly what it was that I had been told and why it was important and then suddenly it was gone. The harder I struggled to remember what had been said the faster the memories fled. The third time this happened I took a different approach. I got out of bed, stretched and did my old man shuffle towards the bathroom.
Except this time I was prepared to pounce upon the dream and write everything down. I put my plan in motion and as I walked I could still hear the whispers and though I was fast the dream was faster. Ask the fellas and they’ll tell you that I have fast hands. I steal a lot of basketballs but this wasn’t a pickup game and that dream fled from my field of vision leaving me frustrated and cranky.
Maybe it doesn’t mean a thing. Maybe it is something silly, I don’t know. I just know that the fragments I feel in the back of my head make me want to remember more.
My son asked me to tell him how to become a dad blogger. I smiled and asked him why he wanted to know. He told me that if he decides to get married he wants to be able to get cool stuff for his children and then he apologized and said that I might be too old to play with my grandchildren.
I laughed and told him not to worry. I am not middle aged yet and I don’t plan on being for quite some time, if ever. And then I told him that if he wants to become a dad blogger he is going to have to spend more time writing. It is a topic that I tread carefully around. He doesn’t like writing. It is very difficult for him. I don’t think that this is going to be an ongoing problem. He knows how to tell a story and I am more than able to help teach him how to improve.
But I remember what it was like to be a boy and how I sometimes struggled with letting my dad help me with certain things. I desperately wanted him to do so but at the same time I didn’t want his help at all. So there were more than a few occasions where he and I fought about silly things. He wanted to help me and even though I wanted his help I didn’t want it.
sucks is wonderful to be a kid.
I know my son well enough to know that I can’t tell him how much I love to write because he’ll feel badly that he can’t do it like I can. No need to fight with him unnecessarily. Not to mention that the situation is complicated by his younger sister. The dark haired beauty writes beautifully. I am biased, but she isn’t an ordinary second grader, not when it comes to writing.
Transitions are hard and we are in the middle of one. There a hundred and one changes taking place now and we are feeling the stress from it. Part of me celebrates the opportunities I see and is dancing with anticipation. During my conversation with my son we spent a few minutes talking about it and he told me again that he wants to live a “big life.”
I don’t know where he got that expression. It means that he wants to live his dreams. The smile on his face and the light in his eyes brings me joy and makes me laugh. It is the sort of feeling that is contagious. I love it. I feel it radiate off of me and I just feel so optimistic.
Later on in the day I discovered that I had made a pretty big mistake on a project I am working on and I muttered “put a bullet in my head.” I was by myselfÂ when I said it but it still made me stop. That is not something that I normally say. I have a lot of different expressions but I don’t say things like that.
I took one last look at the word document, stood up and walked over to my weight set. I picked up the curl bar and let the clinkety-clank of the weights and the feel of my blood pumping take the edge off of my frustration. Midway through my third set I realized that I could hear the whispers from that dream in the back of my mind again.
So I put the bar down and slowly walked over to my laptop. The whispers were just loud enough for me toÂ catch bits and pieces. Just as I was about to start transcribing what I heard they stopped and the dreams fled again.
I feel like Ralph. I have got the suit and I am flying but I need to figure out a better way to land because I am tired of slamming into buildings.