It’s Good to Dream:
By: Christine McFarlane
I’m bored. I’m sitting at
my desk, staring at the word document I have opened before me. I’ve been here
for an hour and the words are not forming like I would like them to. Except for
the occasional hum from my refrigerator, or the creaking sound that comes from
the chair I am sitting in, all is quiet.
To break the silence, I
decide its time for some music. Leaning over, and my eyes squinting, my fingers
tap the music icon on my laptop screen. My library opens and my eyes swiftly go
down the list I have compiled over the years. I wonder what type of music I
should listen to. My music tastes are eclectic-sappy love songs, like Air
Supply’s “All Out of Love,” or Patty
Smyth’s “Sometimes Love is Not Enough,”
to songs like “I Am I” by
Queensryche, to “The Unforgiven” by
Metallica, and then back to ABBA songs like “I
Have A Dream,” “Supertrouper,”
and “Dancing Queen.”
The music I play depends
on the mood I am in; today I don’t know what I feel like. My finger hits the
play button. I forget that the last time I was checking out songs on my
computer, that I had cranked up the volume. I’m almost blown out of my chair
when the song by Queen blasts out of the cheap speakers attached to my laptop.
“We are the champions, no time for losers because we
are the champions”
I pretend that I have a
microphone in hand and kick back my chair and jump up to sing to the crowd. I
get right into the beat of the music, swinging my arms, shaking my head, as I
lip sync
“We are the champions, no time for losers because we
are the champions”
My reverie is broken by
the shrill ring of my phone
Ring…..Ring…Ring…
“Hello?” I yell into my
cell phone.
Mumbled words come
through my phone.
“Pardon me?” I yell
It’s my landlord. Oh
crap! Forgetting that his store is right above me, I hear him say
“Please turn down your
music! Your neighbors are complaining!”
“Yes sir” I yell back.
My dream of being a rock
singer is shattered, as I am brought back to the reality that I’m just a writer
diverting from the task at hand. Writing an article that is due in two hours.
Ah, its good to dream
though.
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