Dreams

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Dreams

Just one more mornin'
I had to wake up with the blues
Pulled myself outta bed, yeah
Put on my walkin' shoes,
Went up on the mountain,
To see what I could see,
The whole world was fallin',
right down in front of me.

I never seem to spend enough time looking around at the world from my mountaintop. Yet, every now and again, I find a moment to slip away and head to my private place to look down from above. I’ve had many such places in the past, but for the last few years now, my place is an out of the way set of cliffs located on Catawba Mountain in western Roanoke County, Virginia. It’s really not very hard to get there. All you do is park in the McAfee’s Knob parking lot on Rt. 311 just west of Roanoke and head south on the Appalachian Trail instead of the usual McAfee’s Knob route to the north.

After about a mile of ridge top hiking you come to a place where the trail begins descending. Instead of descending, I bushwhack along the ridge for a hundred yards or so and perch myself on a wonderful rock outcropping. Obviously some have found these particular rocks before, but I’ve never shared them with anyone. They’re my rocks.

I can sit there for hours and just stare at the world below. Just below is the humble Bradshaw Valley with its narrow country road snaking from creek crossing to creek crossing. Beyond that is the steep upslope of the imposing Fort Lewis Mountain. Still further away, framed perfectly in a gap, is the distant Mill Mountain Star, barely visible through the blue smoke haze of early summer.

'Cause I'm hung up on dreams I'll never see, yeah Baby.
Ahh help me baby, or this will surely be the end of me, yeah.

As I stare blankly ahead, all of my demons fall to the valley floor below, and I inspect each one carefully and thoroughly. They frighten me, but I know that atop my rock, I’m safe. So many demons that fester and ooze through my soul. So many prideful desires, destructive habits, and broken promises. Malaise, anger, frustration, and fear shake hands as brothers. They parade up and down the valley and over to the distant star with all of my doubts and personal shadows. Anchored on my rock, I let them go.

Before I leave, I offer a pennywhistle tune or two to the wind. It seems right somehow to play for the mountain. My last notes echo across the trees and linger, and I slowly allow them to pass away through the trees.

Pull myself together, put on a new face,
Climb down off the hilltop, baby,
Get back in the race.

With reverence, I step off the rock and make my way back to my car with a fresh outlook and ready for a new beginning. Sometimes the demons dart from rock to rock, scurrying just ahead of me, but I don’t let them get to me, my resolve fortified.

I need to visit my rock this week. Friday, I think. I need to get back to the rock and play my penance.

(Lyrics by Greg Allman)