Memories, sometimes, are the only things you have left. I used to be sad that there was no way to record memories for other people to look at. But then I realized that writing does the same thing, only the pictures in your head might be different from what the pictures are in everyone else's head. The reactions that they produce might be different, even though they're connected by a common theme. But there are still pictures.
Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you our featured poet tonight. What can I say about this man? He's taken the concept of poetry to a new personal level, getting inside your head, literally. People say that he's a prodigy, being published at 22. A lot of people link Dylan Thomas with his name these days. But, from we can tell by the couple of times he's read here, he can only get better. This man draws crowds.
Damn. I'll just skip the rest of it. Ladies and gentlemen, Aidan Doyle.
This might be a silly question: Have you ever dreamt? Some people dream, and don't wake up. Other people dream, and remember. Still more dream, and forget. Other people are killed by their dreams. I knew someone once who didn't dream at all. I was killed in a dream once. But I was alive when I woke up, I survived. I survived, to dream more dreams. Another time I dreamed, and it breathed life into me.
Good evening, sirs and madams. Well, I had in mind some of my older stuff, but tonight, I thought I would read some brand new poems that I wrote over the past couple of weeks. They're about... dreams. But a different kind of dream than what I've experimented with before. Before, I used to write about dreams being incarnate, coupling with them and creating new children to write about. But this time, I wanted to write about dreams not being outside of me, but inside instead. And... they're about remembrance too. Something I had to learn to do all over again.
Have I seen you before?
No, but I have seen you before. Many times, in fact.
But why do you seem familiar to me?
I don't know. Maybe I've been in your dreams or something.
Is there something to be said about beginning at the start of one's tale? Of course, if you started at the end it would ruin the whole thing. You could look at like this: I could be alone. I could fall in love with a girl, and she with me. And then she could leave me, and I would be alone again. In that scenario there's not much difference in my physical situation at the start and at the finish.
Emotionally, though, that's a different story. The look of the face, the lilt of sadness in the voice at the end is completely different from the joyous tones of the man in the beginning.
The point I'm getting at here is that I want to start at the beginning. Want to, that is, so that I can get through everything, remember everything so that it'll make sense.
Aidan, put that down.
Put what down?
Aidan, don't test me. I know you better than your own mother knew you. Put the book you got there in your hand down.
Come on Doc. You never even knew my mother.
Maybe I didn't, but I know you have a book in your hand which is probably very valuable. Put it down before I have to sue you for holding it and damaging it. I'll do it; I don't need the money, but I'll do it, just to kick your ass.
And you would think of doing something like that, too. I'm not holding anything.
Aidan Andrew Doyle. Don't make me ask again.
She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies... unless you live in Seattle or something.
Aidan, come here.
I'm coming, I'm coming.
What the hell--?
Boy, how many times do I have to tell you be careful around here? Jesus, you're going to destroy something you know you can't afford to pay for, and that I can't replace. Let me rephrase that: You're going to destroy something your father can't afford to pay for, and that neither of us can replace.
Oh, and thank you Mrs. Motivational Speaker for giving me the skinny on how to feel guilty about not being employed. I know what I'm doing.
Yeah right. You think you do, and that's what scares me.
Hand me that book up there.
Um, Doc, could you be a little more vague?
Oh, that one on top of the stack you almost knocked over. Dante's Inferno.
How on earth, with all these books, did you know--
I know, Aidan. Why do you question these things, after all this time? The sun rises, and I know where all my books are. It's a natural thing. Just give me the book so I don't have to get up and hurt myself, and then hurt you.
So you put my life in danger. Thanks.
Boy, if you get hurt, you heal. I won't. I have a right to sit on my ass.
I can't argue with that, Doc. You are older and wiser after all.
You damn right I am.
Now, help this old lady up so you won't have to take her to the doctor.