The Death of a Dream

By William Deitz

He had a dream. He dreamt that he lived in a land where the people were free. They were free to live their lives and raise their families, in the light of their own god, without the interference or dictation from the king, the court, the state, or the church, the American dream.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 12, 2009
• ISBN: 9781467046077

Book preview

Prologue

Time: what a good place to start. Now it seems, growing up in America that most Americans see time linearly, yesterday, today, tomorrow. And the days move on a continuous line.

All things in the universe have an opposite, space, form, good, evil, zero, infinity, all things except for time or right now. What is the opposite of right now? The past is the opposite of the future. What is the opposite of today? Tomorrow is the opposite of yesterday. What is the opposite of now?

Time is the only thing that has no opposite.

So, since time has no opposite, it cannot be linear. A person needs two points to determine a line. Time has only one point, now. So it cannot be linear.

What does this mean? Nothing really. It only enables us to see that America’s attitude isn’t in harmony with true time.

I, myself, understood time much better after I started driving an automobile. I was twenty years old. I spent a lot of time doing everything without a car. I spent an hour on a bus ride to my girlfriend’s house. Forty-five minutes walking to work. Forty-five minutes walking home. Not to mention shopping, entertainment, etc., etc.

Then I purchased an automobile. It was fifteen minutes to my girlfriend’s house. It was ten minutes to work and ten minutes home. Each one of my days became two to three hours longer because I drove an automobile. I had a half to a whole day more each week.

What? I thought you had to go the speed of light to slow down time. But what does the speed of light have to do with anything? Light is only the fastest thing we are able to perceive. There might be other things that travel faster. We just don’t have the sensory to perceive them.

A person only has to go faster to slow time down. Actually, time doesn’t slow down. Time is only time. It doesn’t move. You move. And you either move fast or you move slow. The faster you go the more time you have. The slower you go the less time you have.

What does this mean? It means that most Americans travel faster than the rest of the world everyday of their lives, because they drive automobiles. So, America has more time on its hands. Maybe that’s why we’re years ahead of the rest of the world.

Of course the mainstream propaganda pumped out of the American media has us believe that we are years ahead of the rest of the world because we are a democratic society with a free enterprise economy.

Mainstream propaganda; The world is flat, You will disappear if you go 60 MPH, Everything in the universe revolves around us, You can’t fly, You can’t go the speed of sound, You can only kill witches by burning them at the stake, You can’t go the speed of light, Kinetic energy is impossible.

I wonder who comes up with this stuff. It’s amazing how many times our government, schools and churches have been proven plain ol’ wrong. Yet they still stand up and flaunt their ignorance like it’s a fact.

Facts. All these facts. And they uphold all these facts logically with scientific research and mathematical equations. But there are such big cracks in the fundamental basis of their ways of thinking, that their so called facts can at best be called theories if not theorems.

Example: Human beings use a base ten mathematical system. Why do they repeat at ten? Probably because they have ten fingers. (Now there’s some advanced thinking.) Ten is almost a prime number. 1,2,5, and 10 are the only numbers that go into 10 evenly.

12. Now 12 is a magical number. 1,2,3,4,6,8,9 and 12 all go into 12 very easily. And if you use fractions, 5 and 10 are easy to handle. 7 and 11 are the only ones left out.

That’s another thing, why do we use decimals? If I’m sitting at a table with two other people and I’m splitting something up. I don’t think; you get .333, you get .333 and I get .333. No, I think; you get a third, you get a third and I get a third. Our minds naturally think in fractions, parts, pieces. Decimals are an abstraction we need to learn.

Why do we use them? Probably because it’s the easiest way to keep track of a base ten number system. But if we use a base twelve number system, fractions would become a piece of cake. And our explanation of the universe would naturally be more precise.

It’s a fact. We spend years in school learning these facts. Our government, schools, and churches feel that teaching people means putting all these facts in our heads. But teaching, in America, seems backwards to me. They always teach you what you need to learn first last.

For example: Music. They teach you, for years, how to play other peoples music. Then, after you master that, they teach you harmony, structure and theory. But if they teach you harmony, structure and theory first, you can learn everyone else’s music on your own. You don’t even need a teacher.

In school, for years, you are taught facts, facts and more facts. Then somewhere later in college you may elect to take a class in analytical thinking. But if you are taught analytical thinking first, everything else you learn is not only easier, it’s debatable.

From the most complicated gymnastics to the joy of sex. We teach our children how to use their bodies in the most efficient and elaborate ways. Yet we neglect to teach them how to use their minds. We neglect to teach them how to learn, how to solve puzzles, how to process information, how to correlate, how to research and how to assimilate their own ideas.

We only teach them our ideas. And we tell them our ideas are facts.

Part 1- The Crime

CH, 1

September 1990

A dismal foggy coastal cloud cover, mixed with smog, blocks out the famous Southern California sun. Darrell and his wife Sara, are moving into an apartment building on Burton way in Beverly Hills.

Darrell is moving to Beverly Hills to be closer to the L.A. music scene. He is a song writer. He plays guitar.

Darrell, is tall, six feet even. He is slender, 170 lbs. He has hazel green eyes. He has short blonde hair. He has a well proportioned, solid build with long legs and wide shoulders. Although never really being a macho man he is very strong. Darrell never thought of himself as handsome, yet he is. When they had first met, Sara, couldn’t believe how striking, Darrell, was. She had a hard time believing she was this lucky.

Sara is average as far as her appearance. Standing five four she is more flabby than firm. Yet she has a good shape. Her face is long and narrow. She has straight black hair, cut at her shoulders. She has brown expressive eyes. Her beauty really stems from her ability to coordinate herself. She sees how to apply and don her makeup and clothes well. That, with her sense of humor, makes her very sexy. Darrell likes the way she turns him on. He likes the way she can make him laugh. Darrell always told her, You are my smile.

The building they are moving into is a new four story complex, with 48 units in it. The stucco exterior is painted a light blue grey, with darker blue grey trim. The building is like a square donut. The four stories surround a garden on the first floor.

Darrell carries the boxes and furniture into the manager’s apartment on the first floor. He and Sara received the job as this buildings manager. They get to live in apartment 104, which is a two bedroom unit. However, one of the bedrooms has been turned into the building’s office. It’s a very nice apartment, microwave oven, dishwasher, cable TV, two bathrooms, two walk in closets, and a fireplace. It also has brand new mauve carpet.

The whole neighborhood is very nice. The Beverly Hills Hotel is right down the street. The Sedars Sinai is three blocks away. The Beverly Hills Mall is four blocks away. Nice? Rich is more like it. The neighborhood is spotlessly clean. Where five blocks away, the well groomed lawns and finely painted homes fall away to graffiti and trash. Darrell thinks it odd how quickly it all changes. But looking at how quickly his own life has changed, in the last three months, he can believe it.

Three months previously, Darrell was in San Clemente, making a lot of money in the abundance of new houses being built in Orange County. He was separated from his wife, Sara. So he was single. He was making very good money. But something was missing. O’ he had his friends. He had his guitars and his equipment. He had a nice apartment. And he has always had his dreams. But after working as a carpenter for eight to ten hours a day, Darrell, didn’t feel much like playing his guitars. And he didn’t do very much writing. He spent most of his time chasing pussy and partying. He had no direction and San Clemente seemed like it was a long long way from his dreams.

The only time he ever seemed on track was when he was with his wife, Sara. But the last blowout they had was very bad. They had been parted for two years, although never divorced. He didn’t even know where she was. He didn’t even know if he would ever see her again.

He was able to locate her through his mother in law. Sara was glad to hear from him. Darrell was surprised. He was also surprised that she said, I’ve been waiting two years for you to call. Sara always seemed to say the right thing.

The two years they were parted, Sara learned how to run a leasing office. She had met an older man, Kevin Winsler, who owned a 16 unit apartment building in Laguna Beach. His wife had died and he needed someone to help him run the office. It was part time at first. But after, Sara, learned the books and laws governing rents, leasing and tenants, Kevin, not having his wife, wanted to move to Mexico and retire.

So, Sara ran the building herself. She also ran two of the apartments off the old man’s account into her own account. And Sara, greedy Sara, pushed it a little too far. Kevin found out. He was furious. How could someone so beautiful and charming do that to him? He loved, Sara. He taught her all about his business and trusted her. How could she hurt him so badly? Sara was lucky (Sara always seems to be lucky) in that, Kevin didn’t want to press charges. He only wanted her to get out.

Then out of the clear blue sky her knight, her life long knight, called her on the telephone. After two years, Darrell called her right when she needed him the most. Darrell always kept Sara straight. Whenever they are together, Sara keeps her nose clean. When they had first met she was using other people’s credit cards and shoplifting all of the time. But Darrell seems to inspire a clean life. He’s so moral. He’s so idealistic.

In the beginning their lives consisted of working and Darrell playing his Guitar. At first, Sara didn’t know if she could handle it. Maybe the guitar was something that Darrell just had to get out of his system. But it wasn’t. She watched him over the years just write song after song like God was steering his hand. Yes Darrell is talented. Yes she loves him. And yes she missed him and his dreams.

Darrell, thinks it is fate that, Sara, learned what she did for the last two years. Because for the last two years, Darrell, has learned everything you need to know about building a home or building.

When he first came to California, to form a rock ‘n’ roll band, he noticed all of the construction going on in Orange County. He also saw an opportunity to make some good money. He found a job as a hoddy for a masonry company. He bounced from trade to trade for eight months learning all the trades. Darrell learns quickly. Actually he doesn’t learn. It’s more like he consumes information. He decided to stick to carpentry because it seemed the easiest work for the money. He also liked it because it was piece work. This meant he would get paid for what he did rather than how long it took him. He put together a recording studio in seven months because he was able to work fast and long.

Now, Darrell has all the knowledge to handle any kind of problem in maintaining a building. And, Sara has all the knowledge to handle the rents and leasing. Darrell thought it irony that their lives should have parted with such harshness as to meet with such harmony.

Together they went and applied at several buildings in Hollywood, West L.A. and Beverly Hills. They received three offers. They accepted the building on Burton way because it is a brand new building and it is a very nice neighborhood.

The building is Japanese owned, like half the property in the Los Angeles area. Darrell and Sara, were both taken back by how many apartment buildings are Japanese owned. Their boss owns thirty two buildings in the L.A. metropolis. It’s a cliché in California about the volume of Japanese owned property. Darrell and Sara were never faced with it before. They are now. Their boss is Japanese.

Darrell doesn’t mind. This job is perfect. The location is perfect. The building is perfect. The amount of work, Darrell, will be responsible for is almost nothing. This gives him time, time to work on his dreams.

His marriage is back together and seems to be going all right. They both made a vow to make a clean start. Darrell prays that it will stay this way. He has a fear that it might go back to the way it was before. He pushes that fear away. He closes that window. A new start, a clean start

His life is alive. His dreams are so obtainable he can taste the savor of success in his mind. But, even more important than success, he sees the fulfillment of his talent. Words, the never ending flow of rhyme that rolls out of his pen, like god given prose. Darrell is a poet. He claims it’s the Irish in him.

At age twenty-seven, he has been writing poetry seventeen years. He has been playing guitar for nine years. He started playing drums when he was sixteen. Darrell has natural Irish rhythm. Yet the drums weren’t enough for him. He started playing the piano when he was seventeen. He learned music theory on the piano, but the spontaneous flow of music didn’t happen for, Darrell, on the piano. He bought his first guitar when he was almost nineteen years old. He’s been writing songs ever since.

The two years in the trades, Darrell, was able to put together a state of the art recording studio. He has a half inch eight track. He has top of the line sequencers, sound modules and keyboards. He has a 16 track professional mixing board with a full effects rack. He has an IBM computer to run things. He has a full library of sounds for his sound module. He has every sound from the finest violin to a bullfrog croak set out in five octave tones. He has amps, speakers and mix down decks. He has microphones, stands, and miles of cables. But most important he has his guitars, he named Luke and brandy. Luke is an acoustic Martin D-35. Brandy is a Les Paul standard with a starburst finish.

Darrell loves his guitars. They are the finest in the world. They are his friends. He can pick them up and play them. They will respond. It’s like....like magic, the beautiful, and the unexplainable. And right now, Darrell’s, dream of being a rock ‘n’ roll star is shining in a full spectrum of light.

He even has his wife with him. Darrell always wanted to rise from poverty with a woman. He understands he lives in a world where a lot of women are looking for wealth by saying, I do. Having a wife before wealth seems very valuable to, Darrell.

Darrell and Sara, were married when, Darrell, was twenty. Darrell married more out of logistics than anything else. He was young. He had been playing guitar a year. He had two years of disappointing college. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to play guitar and write songs. He wanted to be serious about it. He knew he had to get better at playing the guitar. He needed to practice everyday. He needed to stay focused on his deems. He needed a routine. He needed a woman, a family, a basis for life. Sara happened along. Darrell always thought that destiny blew her his way.

Darrell grew up in the seventies where it was preached that marriage is only a piece of paper. So, being only a piece of paper, Darrell, didn’t care if it was there or not. After all, a marriage is between two people, since when should the state have anything to do with it? But, Sara wanted the piece of paper.

Sara, is older than, Darrell, by eight years. She had been married once before and divorced. The eight years and her ability to read people gave her an edge in the initial part of their relationship. Sara needed to get married. She needed a name change. She was running from using credit cards to much. The problem wasn’t just the quantity of use but also the credit cards weren’t hers. The one thing, Sara, didn’t count on was falling in love with, Darrell. He was so young, yet so old. He was so beautiful. He was so idealistic. Perhaps, Darrell is right. Maybe it was destiny.

Darrell was eager. He was young and impatient. He wanted everything yesterday. Sara was impatient also. She wanted her name to change. She wanted to hide. She also didn’t want, Darrell, to find out about a few things. Time was crucial. So, love, destiny or logic, they flew to Vegas and were married.

Together as a couple they are very striking. Darrell, doesn’t worry about that to much. He was raised with the notion; you aren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover. Sara, on the other hand, understands packaging is everything. Darrell did learn however. He has been surprised how many doors just open for, Sara, and him. Just open magically, like everyone knew they were coming. This job for example, it really didn’t matter if they had references or even experience. They look and sound good. They received three jobs. They took the best one. Darrell, feels that, together, Sara, and he can do anything. Behind every successful man is a woman.

Darrell has his woman. He has his guitars. He has his dreams. He has a home. He has his family. And here he is, pulling it all together, in the entertainment capital of the world.

CH-2

Love, everlasting fond that lightens life’s way. That youthful love of learning, promiscuous understandings and ignorance. The feelings of security and warmth. The bond of flesh and soul like an earthly weight of air.

Darrell always understood the power love gave his talent. It fuels the non stop metered flow of thought in his mind like nitro. It almost drives him insane. Yet he revels in his sense of pride. He’s back with his wife. He has the power back again.

Darrell sits in the corner of his bedroom. His eight track and mixing board are along one wall and his keyboards are against the other wall of the corner. He sits on a stool facing out into the room. He cradles, Luke, his D-35, in his arms.

He had written a stanza while watching TV once. The program was about a two year old child that had died in an auto accident involving alcohol. The narrator of the show said, the child was too young to die. And, Darrell, said, You’re never too young to die. You’re never too old to rock ‘n’ roll. And you’re never too young to die.

Darrell likes the idea and wants to expand on it. He hears a riff with the words and needs to work it out. He sits staring into nothing, wondering when his mind will stop. It finally does. He starts strumming out a beat in A major. He thinks of the words; you’re never too old to rock ‘n’ roll. And you’re never too young to die. He shifts the riff from A to D and back again. He keeps repeating it. Then he slides down the neck and puts a change up in the riff. That’s it, he thinks. He spins around to his keyboard. He puts a drum kit disc in his sound module and sets up his sequence for programming. He plays out a drum beat on the keyboard. He goes back over it several times putting in symbols and a quiet cha cha sound in the back ground. He turns it on and lets it repeat itself. Out of the studio monitors rocks a solid rock beat with beefy double bass and an extra crispy snare.

He turns back around. He catches the beat and starts playing the riff to the drums. He strums through the rhythm several times. Then when his hand and mind are use to the changes, he sings the words; you’re never too old to rock ‘n’ roll. You’re never too young to die. He repeats himself over and over again until the rest of the song just falls out of his mind.

You’re never too old to rock ‘n’ roll

And you’re never too young to die

You’re never too weak to make a stand

And you’re never to tough to tough to cry

But never again, like never before

I’ll never forget that summer night

‘cause I’ve never seen a pair of eyes

Shine so bright

You’re never to hot to take a loss

And you’re never to cold to win

You’re never too bad to see the light

And you’re never too good to sin

But never again, like never before

I’ll never forget that magic touch

‘Cause I never thought a heart would ever

Give so much

You’re never to wrong to understand

And you’re never to right to learn

You’re never to poor to lead the way

And you’re never to rich to burn

But never again, like never before

I’ll never forget that dreamer’s day

‘Cause I never thought that

I would ever feel this way

He repeats the song several times. Sara walks into the room. The smile on her face radiates true admiration. Darrell concludes the song for the fifth time and then turns off the drums.

Sara asks, did you just write that? She has to ask. Being away from him for two years, she isn’t sure. But it sounds like it. Darrell’s songs always sound better right when he writes them. The magical spontaneous creation that brings such pride to Darrell’s voice. The joy fills the room with such love and warmth. It makes, Sara, tingle. She wants to make love to him now but she keeps restrained.

Yeah, it finally popped out, Darrell, answers with a giant grin.

It sounds great!

Thanks. Darrell looks into Sara’s eyes. He can see and feel the response his music brings out in people. He is always very modest about it. He is cool. Yet deep inside the experience inflates his ego, pride and confidence. The arrogance shows in his slightly crooked Cheshire grin.

Sara walks up to him. She looks into his eyes seductively. I missed you so much. She kisses him slowly and passionately.

I missed you too. Darrell returns her kiss.

Doesn’t it feel like we’re on our second honeymoon? She says clasping her hands together and shrugging. Darrell thinks she looks like a little girl lost in a daydream filled with butterflies. Darrell can’t help but smile. Sara always turns his cautious, calculating heart over. No matter how hard he tries not to smile he always will.

You’re still my smile. His love for, Sara, overwhelms him. He hugs her as he pushes away the tears.

Sara, loves the way, Darrell, hugs her. He is so strong. Yet he never crushes her delicate physique. He is always in control. He can hold her so tight she can’t move. Yet she feels so safe and secure.

They move to the bed, disrobing. They make love. They make love the same way they have a thousand times. Yet, being back together after two years makes it all so fresh and new again. It’s like a ritual dance of grace. Their touches harmonize as they glide through their dance. Like a real good top forty song, they can dance to the same song over and over again, never getting tired of the same steps.

Darrell, and, Sara, lay on the bed idle with a dew of sweat on them. Sara hugs his torso with her head relaxing on his chest. She is in awe of how strong Darrell is without having very much muscle. His chest is barely there. His shoulders are toned but very slender. His arms are long and sleek. Sara looks at his arm and compares it to hers. It’s not much bigger around than hers. Why do men have so much strength? Why did God make men stronger? It doesn’t seem fair to her as she envies Darrell’s body. She fantasizes about what she could do with all that strength to command.

Darrell fondles Sara’s hair as he lets the soft strands float through his fingers. Her soft skin melts with his. How beautiful, he thinks, it is that she succumbs to his very touch. He can hug her and she will totally dissolve into him with absolutely no resistance, delicate like petals of a rose bud.

A flood of memories scratch his mind like a bed of thorns underneath the petals. The bitter memories instantly close his open heart. He pushes the memories away. He refuses to look at them. This is not the time. They both agreed that the past was behind them. He stares at the ceiling. A chill fills the room.

Sara feels the chill like a shade of grey falling over lightness. She doesn’t understand it. She wonders why men go through such a metamorphosis when they climax. One minute they are all love. And the next minute they are ice cubes. Is it her fault? Is it something she did?

What’s wrong? She asks earnestly.

The past crept into my heart, he almost says. His mind spins. The last thing he wants to do is mention the past. Nothing, blurts out uncontrollably.

A couple of seconds linger like eternity. I was just thinking about my new song. Do you really like it?

You know I do. I like all your top forty stuff. Sara likes all of Darrell’s songs where the bubble gum sticks under every simile and rhyme.

You think its top forty material? His Cheshire grin offsets his modesty in a way that makes it almost sarcastic.

She smiles. She knows he knows its a million dollar song. She knows he knows she likes it. She knows she doesn’t have to answer his question. She can feel the pride emanating from Darrell’s naked body.

Darrell gets up and dresses quickly. He eagerly wants to get back to his song