Browse Category: Private Journal Writing

Cherry Tree

April 22, 1996 – Three years later, in that same month, we were divorced. The cherry tree was the only one to survive undamaged.


From my private journal:

December 26, 1992

My five year-old son (Timothy) told me that he wants to be a missionary/doctor/clown.

A missionary because they tell people about Jesus.

A doctor because they help to make sick people better.

A clown because they make people happy.

Don’t Grab the Honey. You’ll be Sorry if You Do.

A dream in which I got a migraine and was a nasty guy
A dream in which I got a migraine and was a nasty guy

While preparing images for another gallery of migraine drawings, I came upon one that was inspired by a dream in which I got a migraine. When I woke up, I actually had a migraine going on. (It’s bizarre to open my eyes in the morning and find a migraine aura going on. That always freaks me out a bit when it happens.) As all but a few of my migraine drawings are contained in my journals, I was happy to find the story of the dream along with this drawing. The dream features my grandson, Jordyn, who was 10 at the time. I feel bad about being so mean to him in this dream! Read below. You’ll see what I mean.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

I woke up with a migraine today. Here’s the story:

I woke at 6 AM when the alarm went off. I reset it for 7:00 and went back to sleep.

then I had a dream that I was in a grocery store with Jordyn. We needed to find something to make for dinner. While in the store, I started to have a migraine aura. I said to Jordyn, “We gotta hurry up, buddy. I’m getting one of my headaches.” Jordyn went off and I was walking around by myself. I was trying to find Jordyn, went down a few steps and noticed the right side of my vision was mostly gone.

I finally found Jordyn leaning over something. I said, “What are you doing?” He was startled and stood up. He had a bottle of honey in his hands. He was squeezing the honey into a barrely of water that had ham steaks in it. I yelled at him, “What are you doing! We have to get out of here! My head hurts!” I slapped him on the back and grabbed the honey.

Then my hands were all sticky! I was so angry! I put the honey on a shelf. Then I thought about how to get the honey off my hands. I looked around to make sure no one was looking. Then I rinsed my hands off in the barrel with the ham! Ha! Then I said, “Let’s get outta here!”

The alarm went off at 7… and I had an aura going on. It was on the right side of my vision, which is unusual. I usually have it on the left side.


There’s nothing worse than a migraine AND sticky hands! But I guess that’s what I get for being nasty to my own flesh and blood.

(This story is also posted on HERE.)

A Rare and Brief Look Into My Private Journal

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

Thursday, October 16, 2008
1:06 PM

I’m at the park. Listening to Prince’s “Purple Rain” album.

When I pulled in, there was a woman in a green Honda feeding a baby. Not with the breast. With a bottle on her lap.

Then an Elgin Whirlwind street sweeper largely hummed through the parking lot and dumped a pile of gravel. Not on its own. There was a man driving it.

I wish I didn’t have to go back to the office right away. I’d rather stay here and observe who else comes to the park. Maybe a troop of belly dancers in rubber boots. Or a communist tank from Cuba.

Or a dog.

Or a group of belly dancing communist dogs on a Cuban tank. A rubber one.

  • 1
  • 2