Back in 2014, I awaken in a sunny bedroom at a house smelled of coffee and cinnamon. It was a sharp contrast from sleeping in a one-bedroom apartment with a scent of Imo’s sausage pizza and Pepsi cola. I saw a ceiling fan going above me and wondered if I were in the Air Force dorm back in Lackland Air Force Base, Texas. I groggily turned to my right and saw a bathroom in front of me. Without thinking, I threw on a pair of penguin slippers and darted down a flight of stairs.
“It’s about time you got out of bed, sleepy head,” a honeyed, pleasing voice said.
At a dining room table, there was a brunette with a set of gray eyes that were calm as the sea in a moonlight stroll on the beach. She was in a pair of warm purple, satin pajamas that covered her milky, delicate skin.
“Good morning,” I said, walking to the kitchen to help myself to some coffee.
“You were fidgeting a few hours ago. Is it something about the business that you’re not telling me?” she asked.
“No, it isn’t. It’s my blog site. I just cannot understand how introversion and extroversion can fly over people’s heads,” I said, pouring coffee in the cup.
I walked back into the dining room and sat next to her at the table. I glanced at an envelope addressed to Marianna Avison-Poindexter. I thought, holy smokes, I’m married to a woman that men will fight for to win her affections. It seemed that I must be doing alright. I mean, better than alright. I’m doing splendidly with a cup of joe in my hand and discussing my problem to a button-nosed fox.
“Scottie, the concept of introversion and extroversion will fly over people’s heads because they cannot and never will understand it,” she said.
She took another sip of coffee and continued, “It’s one of the reasons why I married you. You needed someone to translate some things to the typical person for you. It’s just that you have a hard time understanding people at times. You did great with the marketing. You had a couple of entries ready to go, a voice actress to do the advertisement, and the word of mouth through mix CDs to friends and co-workers. It’s just, regardless of the execution, the idea is too big for them.”
I had to let it sink in conjunction with my morning coffee. Marianna was right. The experience was like watching a 747 airplane flying over people’s heads figuratively. And literally, since I was at a place near an airport. That bowl of irony didn’t save the idea from being anemic. When I started blogging many, many years ago, the main thing I did was keep it simple. Nevertheless, I strayed from keeping things uncomplicated into making it the opposite.
“However, it is something to research and post in the future for your fan base. Market towards the ones who will always understand and not some people who will never get you. Just continue being the maverick I remember reading about while I was back home in Hamilton, Ontario. You posted some favorites such as An Antibiotic and Five Jacksons, the poem 4 A.M., The Day Scottie Lost His Groove and the sequel, How Scottie Got His Groove Back. I almost nicknamed you Stella Penguin instead of Scottie Penguin. You flipped and rehabbed a lot of houses to avoid that title,” She said.
I learned not only I married an attractive woman. I married a comedian. I wondered if Eugene Levy was in her family tree. If it were the case, I think I missed plenty of Thanksgiving dinners up in Hamilton listening to stories and watching hockey. She took another taste of her coffee and continued, “Take it back to where you were and it will fall back to place.”
She kissed me on the forehead and headed back to the kitchen to get some more coffee. There was a loud knock on the door. I ran to open the door and picked up a package. Suddenly, a voice yelled, “FORE!”
From out of nowhere, a golf ball hit me squared on the head. My eyes rolled back as my body leaned against the door. I slid down to the ground and passed out. Then, I suddenly found myself back in my apartment with a persistent, loud knock on the door.
“Just a minute,” I yelled at the door.
I found myself sleeping on the couch during a hockey game. I was in my evening attire of a St. Louis Blues jersey and Batman pajama pants. I hopped off to answer the door.
“Are you Scottie Poindexter?” a smooth, familiar voice asked.
I was stunned to realize that the woman in my dream worked for FedEx. My brain was still sleeping to process it and then, I noticed her wedding ring. Now, that woke me back up to reality.
“Yes,” I said.
“I need your signature for this package. Did I wake you, sweetie?” She asked.
“Yeah, you did,” I said, taking the clipboard from her to sign.
I handed it back to her and picked up the package. I thought whoever is married to her is perhaps the luckiest guy on the block.
“You have a good day,” I said.
She fist bumped my knuckle and said, “You too and let’s go, Blues.”
She walked off as quickly as she appeared in my dream. From the dream and what I learned from my interaction with the FedEx lady, time was not on my side. I’m sorry, kids. None of us are meant to have moves like Jagger. However, what I did learn was to keep on writing and stay persistent.
For song of the entry, here is “Feel It” by the Crusaders from their acclaimed 1976 album, Free As The Wind. Until the next entry, live long and prosper!
Loved it Scottie, you put a smile on my face this morning