2024.20 : Dreams

Mexico City Circa 2017

Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision
I keep my visions to myself
Have you any dreams you’d like to sell, dreams of loneliness?
Like a heartbeat, drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering what you had
And what you lost
And what you had
Ooh, what you lost
When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know
You’ll know
You will know
Oh-oh-oh, you’ll know

— Stevie Nicks

“You really need to stop doing that,” a dear friend of mine in college advised.

Stupefied, I asked, “Doing what?”

“You really don’t know, do you?” she replied.

I shrugged.

My friend put her hand up, motioning a flat plane just in front of her face. “This is where you’re supposed to stop looking unless invited in. You are one of those people who sees too much. You’re like a walking x-ray. It’s uncomfortable.”

My respect for her opinions meant I would immediately begin practicing as instructed. It made socializing better. Years later, I found myself on the receiving end during a random encounter with a woman with whom I shared only a thirty-minute conversation. It wasn’t long into that chat before I started feeling strange new feelings. As we talked, the feeling intensified into discomfort. She was lovely, engaging, and smart, and the conversation was enjoyable. What was this disconnect? My mind looked for the pattern. It found it.

This kind stranger saw everything in me. There was nowhere to hide. I felt naked and vulnerable. I was filled with gratitude that my friend had the courage to talk to me. Realization crystallized.

Four years ago this week, the Ricky Moon Project began when the woman who invited and relished my penetrating gaze was compelled to close the shutters. Also in that time, the woman who, as a wee lad, imprinted on me the benchmark of beauty and brains also had to close the shutters. All while my mother’s shutters slowly come to a close. The fever of emotions that came with all that has broken. Thanks to your support of this ongoing project, the future isn’t bleak; it’s full of promise.

There’s a street in Mexico City where construction walls are adorned with an outdoor photo gallery. This week’s photo is of the section that so beautifully articulates what I had, what I lost, and what I have. I do know.

And now… know the photograph.

Fleetwood Mac - Dreams (2004 Remaster)

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