The dreams of man

So I have a bit of a confession to make. I don't know if you guys knew this, but I'm a little bit introverted. I know, you raise your eyebrows in shock, but it's true. My natural state is sitting in a quiet room w/ a max of 3 other people, chatting.


I just wanted to start by saying that. Now on to my post.

I would guess most men have fantasies. They dream of being the heroic quarterback or running back. They imagine themselves taking the winning three pointer which seals the victory over Duke in the national championship game. They see themselves winning a million dollars and spending the rest of their lives roping cattle or sailing the Caribbean.

I have a fantasy like that. In my head I like to think of myself as a cowboy or a gunslinger of the modern age. I don't lead cows across the plains or ride a horse, though. I'm a different kind of cowboy. I work a well-paying job, maybe at a law firm, where I am the king of my domain. I take opposing law firms to school. I win most of my cases. I am self-sufficient and well respected.

But it doesn't end there. That's not even the important part of this dream. The important part is what happens afterwards.

In this fantasy life, I finish my day of work, earn my ridiculous pay check, and then head straight to MY bar. The local watering hole. That place you've read about in cheap novels. No one knows me there, save, perhaps, a waitress and a bartender or two, and I'm happy with that.

(Also, the bar is smoke free.)

So I sit at the bar in this dive and take in my surroudings. I don't have any real friends at this bar, but that's ok, because I don't need any real friends at this bar. That isn't what this thing is about.

I sit; I listen to and enjoy my surroundings; and I am totally content to be just me. I don't need to strike up a conversation. I don't need to look to those around me for solace. I am who I am. Bugger the rest of the world. If it needs me, it can damn well come to me.

And that's it. That's my dream. I sit, silent and alone, like a prominent point of rock, holding fast as the sea attacks.

There are probably better dreams out there. Who doesn't want to score the winning touchdown? What person would turn down saving the world from cancer?

There are a lot of things in life that I would like to do. Someday I'd like children. Getting married one day would not be out of the question. At some point, I'd like to have a lazy dog who spends most of his time giving me looks from the couch.


But those are all real life goals. None of those are the vision that I have, meekly begging to be let out of the back of my head. I want to be a cowboy. I want to be a gunslinger. I want to be a rock at the bar, content in myself and my surroundings.