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A fire burns, Water comes
You cool me down, When I’m cold inside
You are warm and bright, You know you are so good for me
With your child’s eyes, You are more than you seem
You see into space, I see in your face
The places you’ve been, The things you have learned
They sit with you so beautifully.
I have been having the strangest dreams lately. They are all rendered as Illustrator drawings, miniature cartoons, animated short films. (Which really just tells you that I have been working too hard.) Each dream is short, a vignette of my life, or what could be my life. They are tangible, and the people in them are people I know. They are saturated with colors and movement, almost as though someone took my past, my present, my future and composed flip books of moments in time. They are family, friends, colleagues, loves. They translate into emotions, yet they are not extreme, so as to leave me with any feelings from sadness to exalted euphoria. They just *are* what they are. Polaroids. Snapshots. Mini-movies. Records. Memories.
I should be better at recording my dreams so that I can remember them better later on, but I am horrible in that respect. I think part of me fears that if I am able to translate that which happens in my dreams, I might start expecting them to materialize into reality. Or that I might make decisions based on them. And while I am sure my subconscious has more clout than say, an internet horoscope reading or a cookie fortune, I think it best not to commit to them. Not just yet anyway.
You know there’s no need to hide away, You know I tell the truth
We are just the same, I can feel everything you do
Hear everything you say, Even when you’re miles away
Coz I am me, the universe and you.
I am certain that this erratic dream pattern is compliments of the little life that I am currently sustaining. Remnants of my dreams are left somewhere in my mind between hungry whimpers and bottles of puppy formula. However, aside from the blatant lack of REM, I remain grateful to that silly pup as I think he is keeping my mind distracted from other things. My outward personal strength that was necessary to readjust to a move away from that which I’ve known my whole life, is starting to dissipate. And while a visit from family next week will certainly help, I have found myself rather unstable and definitely without confidence. Which is something I have very little of to begin with.
I spoke to my parents on the phone last night. And after pulling my mother from the depths of her landscaping, she proceeded to tell me how the neighbors were coming over for a BBQ by the lake and that the party at the Scheers the night before was “one to be remembered.” The water garden was flourishing, and they had taken the dogs to Hammonasset earlier that day. My father had plans to go sailing, and throughout our conversation, he was housing cookies my sister had made for her boyfriend who was going away for the rest of the summer. Bry was in the background, announcing that she was “going for a jog” up to Nick’s house, and I could hear Don and Cindy stopping by the house, greeting my parents with a usual “hello” though the other end of the phone.
I think the fact that I’m missing home so much as of late, is the reason behind some of my strange – albeit artistic – dreaming. If I couple capture all the individual dream vignettes that seem to be infiltrating my half-sleeping mind, I could decorate the white walls of my apartment with them.
Just like stars burning night
Making holes in the night
We are building bridges
You know, When you’re on your own
I’ll send you a sign, Just so you know
I am me, the universe and you.
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