Some days are Sunny, others are a B*tch

Blog entry for Nov. 9, 2021

PROMPT November 9th

You are having a very realistic dream. In this dream, you are approaching a castle. What unusual reason do you have to be at this castle? What do you say to the two guards standing outside it to gain entrance?


First of all, my dreams never make any sense. I am one of those people that don’t dream often anyway. The reason for this is probably because I go to bed with ear pods playing music or listening to an audiobook. I don’t think I achieve REM sleep where dreams come often.

A castle is not part of my writing either but I will try anything. Okay, I am going to a castle on behalf of the poor people of the village that are mostly employed by the castle. I have been selected as their spokesperson to see if I can get an increase in the standard of living of these families that have very little but work very hard. I suppose I am a medieval union representative.

I cross the bridge over the moat, carrying a white flag of peace. The armed guards want to know if I have an appointment with someone. I tell them I have come to discuss the Prince’s upcoming wedding and how we simple folks can contribute to the ceremony because he is such a wonderful benevolent employer. They search me and then call the Prince’s secretary.
“They will send an escort for you,” I am told..

I was granted entrance into the golden suite of offices for the prince. He came out in regal colors of purple and dark red velvet. I bow before him.

“What brings you here to the castle?”

“I have a message form a future prophet about the people who serve you. They live in poverty and illness, your highness. It is a very important poem and song that will reach millions of people someday.”

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’
I saw a white ladder all covered with water
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’
Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded with hatred
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?
I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

By BOB DYLAN 1963

Then I woke up. Hey, this was a dream, after all.