Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Work, Dreams, and well... I don't know... we'll call her Silvia

Sunday night, I sat down about midnight to get some work done, and I worked straight until 5:30 am. There was so much to do. My roommate got up and commented that I was up early. I told him I was up late. So I slept for a few hours, worked a little more, went to a safety meeting, worked some more, napped a bit, worked some more (these mores are not very long, but Mondays are the busiest days) ate dinner, read a bit, worked more, took the dog for a walk, watched a movie and worked until now. Mostly, I worked, but in little bits here and there which I prefer.

I've noticed that I like to take things a little bit at a time. I cut my food small, chew it to pieces, read my books a chapter at a time (then switch books). I like to switch what I'm doing every few minutes. I wonder if that's bad.

The movie I watched was called, "The Legend of 1900" and was about a man who spent his whole life on a cruise ship, from birth to death, and was the most amazing piano player ever. It's a great movie and I recommend it, but there is a bit of swearing. It makes me want to write something creative... I haven't written creatively in a long time... I daresay years... I did write a book in February... so I guess that counts, but I focused more or less on non-fiction... so I guess that statement I made about not writing creatively is a falsehood. I didn't mean to lie. I just don't have a great comprehension of time passing. I know it passes and I know how to measure it. I even know where time goes. It goes to the past where it congregates to either haunt us or praise us, depending on how kind we were to it as it was passing.

Sometimes I think that I'm too normal. I'm trapped in my body which is not really my own. The limitations put on by my flesh are mourned by my mind. I have dreams which should disturb me, but I watch them as if they were a movie. Last week, I had a dream that someone cut and peeled my skin off. I could feel the scalpel cutting the skin and it hurt, but I did not cry out in pain. I could feel the cool air rush inside me and between my organs and I could feel the flesh, trying to stay together. It wasn't all cut off. I was topless on the table and the doctor (I don't know if it actually was a doctor) just cut a big rectangle from just below my next, down my sides and finished it off under my belly button. He was looking for fat cells and he found some. I, being fully conscious (inside my dream) was more concerned about the fat cells he was finding than the fact that he was cutting my skin off. And as weird and disgusting as this dream was, I can write it with emotional detachment, as if I were discussing something trivial like pancake batter. I have killed and been killed in dreams before. I wish not to remember the dreams in which I have killed, but I do remember running away from someone... I think it was the mafia... and I was "winning." The people chasing me were falling for my tricks and I was turning running for my life into a sport. In the end, I got cocky and tripped over something meaningless, and they caught up with me and shot my head off. The second they did, I was hovering over my body looking down, thinking to myself... that was a fun game, even though I lost. I have had weird dreams where I lived in a barrel with a wife and two daughters, been kidnapped by aliens and became an intergalactic fighter pilot, woke up from a trance to find myself on a subway in a car full of hypnotized people guarded by fish men. All sorts of weird ones. The last emotional one I've had, waking up with tears in my eyes, was another one where I was running. I had tricked the cops into thinking I had left town when I hadn't. I waited a week and they gave up the search. I don't remember what I did, or why I was running, but whatever it was, I wasn't denying that I did it. When I thought the coast was clear, I snuck out of my hiding place and walked along the road at night. Up ahead, it just so happened, that one of the policemen was walking one of the search dogs. What horribly luck. I dove behind a bush knowing it was useless. The dog sure enough, picked up on my scent and found me. So I was caught. I congratulated the officer on his good fortune and gave up. What made it emotional was at that very moment, people I knew started walking by. My Sunday School kids and friends from Shoreline Clavary Chapel. The cop was nice and let me talk to them and explain what was going on. He didn't cuff me in front of them. I kept a smiling face as I explained to them that I was going to prison because I did something wrong (I knew what it was at the time. I jsut can't remember now) and that I was going to miss them. My heart was breaking inside of me and I dare not show it. There were so many questions and everytime I got done explaining, someone else would come by. I was so ashamed. I don't know why I'm writing my dreams down here, but I should end with a fun one. The night before that dream, I dreamt that I discovered a talent I had. I could throw forks and stick them into walls. I grabbed a bunch and threw them everywhere, even into someone's sandwhich as he held it to his mouth. (he wasbn't hurt, and we all had a good laugh.)

And sometimes, when I'm awake, my head feels like it's trying to think too fast and I can't get anything legible out of it. When that happens, it's like part of me is paralized. (not physically) I can see and hear and function, but nothing really seems to register. It's like I'm thinking of everything at once and I freeze up like a computer. If I were, I would ctrl-alt-delete, but I can't in real life. It tickles too much.

All this writing because I wanted to write something creative. Well... here goes...

She stands alone in the first rays of morning. The waves crash on the rocks below her as she stands upon the cliffs edge. Tears slip down her face, over freckles and rosy cheeks. Her hair hides her face from the ocean as if trying to save her the embarrassment. Her wet blue eyes stare out at a blurry sea. She hugs herself in the morning chill and whispers to the last fading memories of night. She vows to never return. She then kicks a rock over the edge as if to seal the deal, and turns into the rising sun with a smile that carries with it an air of determination. Today is a new day, she tells herself. And this day will last forever.

1 comment:

cas andersen said...

your dreams sound kinda like what happens to jean valjean in Les Miserables... same type of feel- running from the authorities and only kinda deserving it because he has become a reformed man...


i feel bad for you that you are always running away in dreams...do you wake up tired?