Dream Machine

The more I become mesmerized by the beautiful challenge nature offers, the more I dream. I dream of mountains and summits. I dream of ascents that beat me to the ground, that destroy my legs and make my lungs beg for mercy. I dream of hundred mile treks through the most beautiful places on earth. I dream. I dream of escaping to these places. Inside my mind I escape. I runaway. I run far away. I dream.

Often times when I dream, I dream of being somewhere else. A place far away. My mind drifts away. Far away. I can say with all of my heart and all of my soul, that I am already living a dream. I can still chase my dreams. I will forever dream. And when I dream, I will always dream big. 

A few years ago I landed here in Tucson. I got off a plane and stepped into the unknown. I was picked up by 2 men and driven through town. A town I had never seen, full of people I didn't know. I didn't even know myself. I knew myself less than I knew the unknown. I arrived at a place called TLC, a halfway house full of parolees. 

"Where did I go wrong?" I thought to myself, "Why? Why am I here?" I sat in a broken chair, loneliness wrapped the inside of my broken heart. I missed my family. I missed my home. But I had no home. Was this my home? 

I sat there trying to sort out my sorted life. I gazed into the distance, my eyes welling up with tears. Beyond the broken down houses and decrepit commercial buildings, I saw a mountain. The sun was setting, spraying a coat of watermelon pastel over the mountain range, thus reminding me of home. I remember a strange feeling of serenity wash over me. 

I was raised in a good home, by great parents, in a nice neighborhood. Why on earth did I end up in this predicament? My very best thinking brought me to the depths of misery. I had no direction. I had no importance. I was lost. I was completely lost. 

And so I sat there in the broken chair dreaming of a better life. I was surrounded by people, yet more alone than ever. I stared into the distance as the sun disappeared, replacing the watermelon pastel with nothing but darkness. The emptiness was overwhelming. 

Feeling like TLC wasn't a good fit for me, I did what I was best at. I ran away. I left. Leaving a bag full of dirty laundry behind. 

My days grew darker after my departure. I was a lost soul on a treacherous road. Looking back on it, it seems surreal, like it never really happened. Like it was all a dream. 

Sitting on that broken chair, staring at The Santa Catalina Mountains, I could have never dreamed of the life I have today. This is not a dream, this is reality. And the mountains have become my refuge. 

I don't have to drift away, far away to dream. My dreams were cemented here. In my backyard. On these mountains. 

I will forever dream.

Catalina Cuisine