Saturday, March 3, 2012

where I've been

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I have been lost in books (Hunger Games: worth the hype), and thoughts about snuggling (new nephew – hoorah!). I’ve been thinking of lottery wins, armchairs and leftovers. The reality that I probably won’t win the lottery has got me down. I need an armchair for my living room. I have a sudden distaste for leftovers.

I’ve been jealously reading those books, salivating over the pages, and trying to figure out how these authors keep saying things that people want to read. I’ve been sitting in the squalor that is writer’s block, thinking of sentences and forgetting them in the same moment they show up. My pillow gives me ideas, which is cruel because it only gives me ideas when I am drifting; halfway between worlds.

I have been dreaming like a madwoman. The other night I babysat a bustling brood of blonde toddlers, and one twelve year old brunette. She was upset with me because I couldn’t decide what to wear; as if my indecision meant her world; that I and my piles of clothes had failed her. Earlier that night I was in a meadow at the foot of some rolling mountains. Chelsea and I were traipsing about, writing, sharing giddy ideas. The train crashed and one of its cars exploded. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and a soft breeze stumbled over the flowers.

Last night I was in Botswana. A woman gave me a pot that had been carved from wood. It was smooth and beautiful; the carvings and colors were parrots, perfect to touch, layered intricately. Outside, a Tiger attacked the villagers. One woman, with her arm outstretched, cried “Sanctuary!” and the tiger spared her and her baby. With a turn of its head and shoulder, he beckoned to the woman and the child in her arms, and then led them on the rest of their journey. I became the woman, and the tiger led me.

I’ve been sitting at my desk, starting stories and stopping them, thinking of worlds and forgetting them, closing my eyes and then opening them, breathing out and then breathing in, and making myself start the things I have told myself to begin.
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2 comments:

Mama said...

Fascinating. I virtually never dream anymore and I prefer it that way. I've always hated weird, senseless dreams. But yours are kinda cool.

Erin said...

"starting stories and stopping them, thinking of worlds and forgetting them"
Beautifully put, and what I seem to do daily.