Resting Easy

As I entered the lecture hall for this one class I noticed the obvious absence of students. "Curious." Finding a seat with an exit nearby, I plopped into it quickly and quietly because of the silly fear I would suffer embarrassment when Amy asked the prof for permission for my attendance on this day and he said, "NO!"

She approached the front of the lecture hall where he eagerly agreed to let me attend. This I could tell from the up and down bobbing of his noggin with a grin a mile wide.

Amy found me hunkered down and suggested we move closer to the front and so we did.

Suddenly I found myself the center of attention when Mr. Prof announced to the class that I would be singing a solo with the chorus "right there on the stage" and as he turned to ask me what I would sing, I protested saying, "Hey! This is a political science class, is it not?!"

"Yes."

"Then why are we singing?"

"It's a dream. We can do anything we want in dreams."

Oh, so that explains it.

I walked to the stage, nerves tingling, legs trembling, wondering just what song I could sing in a political science class that would make any sense at all.

We gathered, the chorus and I and they began to hum ... and I began to sing:

You think I'm an ignorant savage
And you've been so many places I guess it must be so
But still I cannot see If the savage one is me
How can there be so much that you don't know?
You don't know
You think you own whatever land you land on
The earth is just a dead thing you can claim
But I know ev'ry rock and tree and creature
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name
You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew
Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of a mountain?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?
Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest
Come taste the sun-sweet berries of the earth
Come roll in all the riches all around you
And for once, never wonder what they're worth
The rainstorm and the river are my brothers
The heron and the otter are my friends
And we are all connected to each other
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends
How high does the sycamore grow?
If you cut it down then you'll never know
And you' ll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
For whether we are white or copper-skinned
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountain
Need to paint with all the colors of the wind
You can own the earth and still
All you'll own is earth until
You can paint with all the colors of the wind

Then the lecture hall emptied and I found myself in Florida with Dear Old Friend Ann, and she had these gigantic boobs that stood straight out in front of her and we couldn't find a thing for her to wear. We walked and walked and walked through the mall, she with her gigantic boobs sticking straight out in front of her covered in a tight, red sweater, me with my sunglasses on ...

:::sigh:::

I think I need to get some real rest.

Colors of The Wind/Disney's Pocahontas