train tracks

the tears I’ve cried would leave traintracks down my face if I had ever been able to actually cry them.

There’s a freight train that runs through this vicinity, it runs about 400 yards from our home. It runs throughout the day and night. Not TOO often. I have finally got the hang of it.

It also runs–the same train–along the edge of the grounds of Wernersville state hospital.

And about a hundred feet from my window at the apartment complex I went to when I got out of there.

So now I love it. Now I love everything. Now Im cool. Now I’m…

Well I finally figured out some stuff about my father that make everything make even more sense than the diagnosis of organic personality disorder and I can’t say what it is but I’ve been laughing.

When I was at Wernersville the first time I ran away twice and the second time I walked about 5 or 10 miles towards Reading, along the train tracks towards the City of Reading.

When I was a child, I had a dream that I was sitting halfway up the bank over some train tracks and there was a tunnel coming. My mother, father, and brother (sister? I can’t remember how old I was) were all on the train. I watched them go into the tunnel.

The time when I was at Wernersville, I walked up the steep embankment only to find that the social worker for the unit was on his way to work and saw me there. I wasn’t sure what to do but he said he would call the police if I didn’t get in the car so I did.

They had a fried egg breakfast waiting for me when I got back.

I was home.

for a time.

17 months over the period of two years.

It was okay to be there what was bad was when you got out. It was like they called you back. There were people who had been there 40 years and you became a part of it. And you were no longer deemed a part of normal society. You got bad attitudes. Like Pavlov’s dogs.

I used to say it was like a war. You just never forget. Someday I’ll be willing to go back into that time and talk about the dreams I had. Afterwards I slowly stopped having dreams.

in the last couple of weeks, I have woken up several times having had what I consider a normal dream. IT IS TRULY A MIRACLE.

but, as my mother always pointed out to me, there has to be follow-thru.

This isn’t over yet. It could happen in the wink of and eye or take me all the way to the hour of my death: for me to come to understand the promises I have heard and how they are to come.