Dreamtime

John Michael Hersey

It was the early 1980’s in southern New Jersey. I was young and in a band. It was Dreamtime. It was great! We played five nights a week at Ferry’s Slip Inn, searching for an Audience. I wondered out loud: How Do You See Me? I styled myself The Heartbreak Kid. Proudly and defiantly I proclaimed: I am not ordinary, I am Off the Wall. The ways of romance and the world were A Mystery to Me. I was delusional about a relationship with an older woman, a Working Girl. How could I be so naïve? How did I not see the Ghosts in Your Bedroom? I longed for a permanent Holiday Retreat, a way off the pathway to the nine-to-five life that lay ahead. I struck out on my own. All I found was Every Reason to Fail. I was alone and pleaded with the indifferent world to Give Me a Break. I had reached The Bottom Line. Dreamtime was over. And waking up is hard to do. I almost didn’t make it to morning. But there was music. It was and is my rising sun. That’s why I Keep On Turning It Out.

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