Catalina's Milky Way Dreams(c) Re- Written 2024 - By The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Shooting Stars and fast moving CarsRumble through the roads of my mindTick-e-ty Tock, the old sounds of the clockSay's it's almost a quarter past nine
The moons surely rising, the stars are a glidingAnd Mr. Sandman is ready to roamHurry off to bed and put your pillow under your headHe might just be visiting you tonight at homeDrifting off to sleep is such a wonderful featAdventures you'll enjoy on your ownMaking new friends on a journey to no endA secrete life that is yours all aloneDon't be afraid of those gobble lee goo'sOr those pirates drifting to sea on their boatsThere's no need to worry there just in your dreamsLike rainbow clouds and cotton candy floatsOh that sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerPlease, don't take my Dreams a wayTo see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way DreamsWe could have so much funUnder an ice cream sun and laugh our time awaySing some M & M songs the whole day longUntil we awake to brand new day
Pluto say's hey kiddo don't get out of bedAs Snakel Puss laughs and says, ah it's OKKKKKKKKPopeye yell's, were gone in a minute after I eat me spinachPoo say's all aboard my Banana Split SleighOh that Sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerWorry not Catalina, we won't take your Dreams a way
To see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way Dreams
Catalina say's, please come join me, on my Milky Way Dreams
Every morning begins the same way.
Long before the world wakes up, while the stars are still deciding whether to stay or quietly slip away, an old man walks into his kitchen. His bones are a little slower than they used to be, and the coffee pot seems to make more noise every year, but those are familiar sounds. They are comforting sounds. He reaches for his favorite coffee mug, the one that's seen more mornings than he can remember, and waits patiently as the rich aroma fills the room. Before he ever takes that first sip, he looks toward the window where the first hint of daylight is beginning to paint the sky. He smiles. "Good morning, Jesus," he says softly. "I hope You're doing well." He chuckles to himself every time he says it. Of course Jesus is doing well. Still, it feels right to ask. Then he bows his head. He thanks the Lord for another sunrise. He thanks Him for another chance to get things right. He prays for his family, his friends, those who are hurting, and even those who have forgotten how to pray. He asks forgiveness for yesterday's mistakes and asks for wisdom for whatever today might bring.
When his prayer is finished, he takes his first sip of coffee and watches the sun slowly climb over the horizon. And almost every morning, the very same thought finds its way into his heart. Lord... wouldn't it be something if You came by for coffee? Not for a grand miracle.Not so the newspapers could write about it. Not so people would finally believe. Just for coffee. Just two friends sitting together while the sun rises.
He often wonders where Jesus would choose to sit. Across the table? Next to him on the porch? Would He simply smile and say, "Mind if I join you?" Would they shake hands? Or would Jesus wrap him in one of those hugs that somehow made every hurt disappear? He imagines pouring a second cup. "I wasn't sure how You take it," he'd laugh. "Black?" "A little cream?" "Maybe You don't drink coffee at all." Then they would both laugh together.
The old man imagines there wouldn't be any awkward silence. Jesus would never make silence feel uncomfortable. Instead, it would feel peaceful. The kind of peace this old world doesn't seem to have much of anymore. He thinks about the questions he would ask. "So... what was I supposed to learn from all those difficult days?" "Did I disappoint You more than I realized?" "Did I make You smile even once?" "What about all the prayers I thought You never answered?" "Why did some good people have to leave so soon?"
He pauses there. That question always hurts a little. Then he wonders if he would even ask. Maybe Jesus would already know. Maybe He would simply place His hand on the table and quietly say, "I know." Sometimes two words are enough. He wonders if Jesus would tell him about Heaven. Not every detail. Just enough to calm an old man's heart. Would He describe the beauty? Would He tell him there is no pain? No sickness? No depression? No lonely nights?
Would He tell him that those he loved who had gone before him were smiling, laughing, and waiting? He smiles at that thought. He imagines Jesus looking toward the sunrise before saying, "They're home." Nothing more would need to be said. Then another thought crosses his mind. Would Jesus tell stories? Would He laugh? People often forget that joy was part of who He was. The old man imagines Him smiling more than most people think. Maybe they'd talk about children. About kindness. About forgiveness. About why people make life so complicated when God meant for love to be so simple. Maybe Jesus would remind him that every stranger deserves kindness because every soul matters.
Maybe He would remind him that people are carrying burdens they never speak about. Maybe He would simply say, "Love them anyway." The old man thinks about whether he would tell anyone afterward. Would anyone believe him? Probably not. Some would call him crazy. Others would tell him he imagined the whole thing. A few might even laugh. So maybe... Maybe he'd keep it between himself and Jesus. Some moments are too holy to explain. Some conversations belong only to two hearts.
Eventually he realizes something. Maybe Jesus has been joining him every morning all along. Maybe every quiet prayer has been a conversation. Maybe every peaceful sunrise has been an invitation. Maybe every comforting thought that entered his heart while holding that warm cup of coffee wasn't his own at all. Maybe Jesus has never missed a single sunrise. The coffee grows cold. The sun rises a little higher. Birds begin their morning songs. The old man stands, smiles toward Heaven once more, and quietly says, "Same time tomorrow?"
Deep inside his heart comes a peace that cannot be explained.Not with words. Not with logic. Only with faith. And somehow... He already knows the answer. "I'll be here."
Long before the world wakes up, while the stars are still deciding whether to stay or quietly slip away, an old man walks into his kitchen. His bones are a little slower than they used to be, and the coffee pot seems to make more noise every year, but those are familiar sounds. They are comforting sounds. He reaches for his favorite coffee mug, the one that's seen more mornings than he can remember, and waits patiently as the rich aroma fills the room. Before he ever takes that first sip, he looks toward the window where the first hint of daylight is beginning to paint the sky. He smiles. "Good morning, Jesus," he says softly. "I hope You're doing well." He chuckles to himself every time he says it. Of course Jesus is doing well. Still, it feels right to ask. Then he bows his head. He thanks the Lord for another sunrise. He thanks Him for another chance to get things right. He prays for his family, his friends, those who are hurting, and even those who have forgotten how to pray. He asks forgiveness for yesterday's mistakes and asks for wisdom for whatever today might bring.
When his prayer is finished, he takes his first sip of coffee and watches the sun slowly climb over the horizon. And almost every morning, the very same thought finds its way into his heart. Lord... wouldn't it be something if You came by for coffee? Not for a grand miracle.Not so the newspapers could write about it. Not so people would finally believe. Just for coffee. Just two friends sitting together while the sun rises.
He often wonders where Jesus would choose to sit. Across the table? Next to him on the porch? Would He simply smile and say, "Mind if I join you?" Would they shake hands? Or would Jesus wrap him in one of those hugs that somehow made every hurt disappear? He imagines pouring a second cup. "I wasn't sure how You take it," he'd laugh. "Black?" "A little cream?" "Maybe You don't drink coffee at all." Then they would both laugh together.
The old man imagines there wouldn't be any awkward silence. Jesus would never make silence feel uncomfortable. Instead, it would feel peaceful. The kind of peace this old world doesn't seem to have much of anymore. He thinks about the questions he would ask. "So... what was I supposed to learn from all those difficult days?" "Did I disappoint You more than I realized?" "Did I make You smile even once?" "What about all the prayers I thought You never answered?" "Why did some good people have to leave so soon?"
He pauses there. That question always hurts a little. Then he wonders if he would even ask. Maybe Jesus would already know. Maybe He would simply place His hand on the table and quietly say, "I know." Sometimes two words are enough. He wonders if Jesus would tell him about Heaven. Not every detail. Just enough to calm an old man's heart. Would He describe the beauty? Would He tell him there is no pain? No sickness? No depression? No lonely nights?
Would He tell him that those he loved who had gone before him were smiling, laughing, and waiting? He smiles at that thought. He imagines Jesus looking toward the sunrise before saying, "They're home." Nothing more would need to be said. Then another thought crosses his mind. Would Jesus tell stories? Would He laugh? People often forget that joy was part of who He was. The old man imagines Him smiling more than most people think. Maybe they'd talk about children. About kindness. About forgiveness. About why people make life so complicated when God meant for love to be so simple. Maybe Jesus would remind him that every stranger deserves kindness because every soul matters.
Maybe He would remind him that people are carrying burdens they never speak about. Maybe He would simply say, "Love them anyway." The old man thinks about whether he would tell anyone afterward. Would anyone believe him? Probably not. Some would call him crazy. Others would tell him he imagined the whole thing. A few might even laugh. So maybe... Maybe he'd keep it between himself and Jesus. Some moments are too holy to explain. Some conversations belong only to two hearts.
Eventually he realizes something. Maybe Jesus has been joining him every morning all along. Maybe every quiet prayer has been a conversation. Maybe every peaceful sunrise has been an invitation. Maybe every comforting thought that entered his heart while holding that warm cup of coffee wasn't his own at all. Maybe Jesus has never missed a single sunrise. The coffee grows cold. The sun rises a little higher. Birds begin their morning songs. The old man stands, smiles toward Heaven once more, and quietly says, "Same time tomorrow?"
Deep inside his heart comes a peace that cannot be explained.Not with words. Not with logic. Only with faith. And somehow... He already knows the answer. "I'll be here."
