It’s hard being a dreamer in a place loaded with stiff sheets and hard pillows. Most of the time those who we swung with from monkey bars and slid down hot shinny slides, are just kindergarten memories. What happened to friends who made pinky swears and held one hour grudges? The world has hardened us to the point of waves that mean nothing, hugs without touching shoulders, and counterfeit handshakes.

I wish it was all so simple.

Perhaps the museum of natural history has one on display. Find a true friend and you may be able to covert them to fossil fuel. There are so many hidden doors and bookshelves that rotate leaving you face to face with strangers that you’ve known for years.

Having high expectations in those who we give the title friend to, can have us falling from elevated planes of optimism. And just in case you think I need a hug, I don’t. I wish friends came with that line that can only be seen when you hold them up to the light; or how about the marker that shows a certain color if they’re fake.

It’s hard being a dreamer.

Chris Slaughter