At an Airport in 2017

 I am in the Denver airport for a 14 hour layover for a flight to Virginia. When I arrived at the Portland airport, I started to tear up because it's been such an awful week, I cleaned the hell out of my apartment, sent back the books and pans my parents sent me the week before, sold all my shit, and dumped the remaining items in the trash room on the 12th floor; and when I arrived at the airport there were hundreds of people moving about; some probably in a worse situation than me (and this was at 4am in the morning) and there were children and adults and men and women and people ready to die all doing the same thing: hauling luggage, waking up at a time against this circadian rhythm, ready to leave the current place they're in, maybe forever. All of this bustling and activity and endurance of humans, but the only word that came to mind was Futility. (I've been reading Tropic of Capricorn) I took a nap on the floor in the airport and was able to dream. I dreamt of a building children lived in, in glass rooms, and the water they used was piped out of their glass boxes and freely splashing whoever was unfortunate enough to walk underneath them. I was climbing a metal ladder to one of the rooms, and their was patches of grass and steel floors with holes in them to drain liquid. I could say the meaning of this dream is akin something to the matrix. Like a zoo, humans kept in glass cages, but they put themselves in there for the view. And all of their excrement is drained out of them. And we're still kids. We look like adults, but we play office to buy nice things to sit back and say "this is good, this The Path of a good life" but maybe this life isn't for me. At times, especially this morning because I was hungover, it felt like the brain literally just shouted commands to my limbs, and my bruised arms, legs, and fingers clumsily fumbled at the commands they were receiving. Elbows knocking in walls. Knees hitting tables. In the morning, the mind awakes and brandishes its weapon. "This is all I have," It says, "this is my tool against reality," it shouts, "Now get out of bed."