Clint Eastwood put his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground to twirl her around and kiss her — passionately — for a wrapped-together-in-ecstasy continuous time. They fell in love immediately and followed each other around — lusting after knowing more about each other and they stayed in the same place with other people trying to steal them apart but they wouldn’t be stolen.
They laid themselves down and he suggested in a firm account of knowing but wasn’t at all disappointed when she said, “I think we should wait,” — even though she really wanted to. They both knew that they hardly knew — he just thought that he was supposed to. He was different than he is in movies — he displayed a little lack of surety about himself and what they might be together. He acted coyly even though he wouldn’t let her out of sight. His kisses got better with time.
“Is this heaven?” asked Rango
“If it were, we’d be eating Pop Tarts with Kim Novak,” replied the Spirit of the West.
And then the phone rang and she had to wake up. She tried to go back to the wonderful dream, but she could only try to hang on to it while woken.
“You came a long way to find something that isn’t out here.” The Spirit of The West was seeing something Rango couldn’t see for himself. Dreams are useful that way too — even though it is the self that is seeing.
“It’s not about you,” he continued, “it’s about them.”
She wonders what Clint Eastwood had in mind — maybe that she needs to lower expectation or take full advantage of moments, even the minutes in dreams that probably really only last for seconds — let go of unnecessary self-imprisonment. What’s to gain from waiting — especially in a dream. Sometimes there is something.
Something needed is hidden in the play — the story one is making — and sometimes waiting has a value. Maybe while waiting, Clint Eastwood will come along and tell you.
“Don’t know that you got a choice son. No man can walk out on his own story.”