June 28th 08 A Dream

There was a company which manufactured a way to turn people into weird mutant fighting machines. It happened naturally when this toxin they released into the air interacted with eggs on the beach. The eggs grew into scary demonic things that ate little kids. I was trying to get away from where this was happening. There was a university on the beach and they had decided to let the creatures take over and they were going to invent some way to turn people into robot demons. Each person took on a different form that they could use to their advantage. I was trying to sneak in to talk to the people in charge by pretending that I had invented some kind of special pill. All the guards were watching me but they were also wearing matching outfits and playing speed poker. I was running away again and they were trying to get Kody. I was running into other people's houses to try to distract them from knowing where he was. They had turned my Dad into a weird tornado that swallowed up whatever they asked. 

Goats and Eh.

The wind outside is howling and the sky is waiting to crack. The pressure is building in my head and the humidity is stifling. I've been living inside myself, waiting for something to break me free from my inner dialogue. I've been promising to write and not doing it; I've been promising myself several things which have all been left undone. I read and speak and eat in order to maintain a life and I create in order to somehow keep a record of this life. Each day that passes without words pressed to the paper is a day that falls into the masses of un-recalled, half-lived moments. I want to make something real out of the days so that I can look back on them and know that I spent them well. So that when I am old and tired and finished I can look back on my life and know that I have made something that is important to someone, that I have succeeded in at least capturing something about life with words and images. 

Some days all the things I see I see in words. I see a tree and I spell it out in my head: T-R-E-E. And I think sentences about the tree. "The tree stood by the side of the road, beckoning with it's massive branches as it swayed in the summer wind." I make associations with other trees of my life, experiences involving trees and climbing them and picking their fruits. And other days all the things I see I see in images. I see the tree and I photograph it from different angles and I photograph the different parts. My eyes will constantly search for a balanced image and I see things as lines and within a frame. And on the days inbetween I just look at things and see them and I don't think about them in words or try to force them into images. Those days make me anxious because I want to always be in the midst of making something and I fear I am always in the midst of explaining why nothing is being made. 

Happiness is often like a brief respite between other emotions. It carries with it a sense of intoxication and it is often the littlest things that make me the happiest. Yesterday, while driving down a rather windy road, we turned a corner and I saw, so briefly, several goats munching away on green, lush grass. We passed them so quickly that I barely had time to think before a squeal escaped my lips and I was awfully pleased. How I love goats. The knowledge of their existence is one thing that makes me extraordinarily happy. Ah, goats. 

I digress. 

I want to go to the ocean. I want to swim out as far as I can and float on the surface of the water and look up at the sky. But, everytime I do so I am afraid of sharks. Especially after last time I went to the beach and was quite close to a shark before I realized that people had fled the water and everyone was standing out on the beach looking in my direction. I only saw the shark after I swam back to shore but it was right where I had been. There are a lot of things like that in life, it seems. Things you don't understand are dangerous because they are too close and it is not until you see them from a distance that you realize your mistakes. 

I was reading through my notebook of dreams recently and I realized that all of my dreams involve people who have been in my life in the past or the present but mostly the past. I cannot let go of people no matter how hard I try. But, I suppose I don't try very hard, do I? I am terribly sorry that this post is so stupidly personal and it doesn't have all the grandiose statements about living and dying, about creating and not doing so. There are just so many things in my head all at once and I hate being in the middle of something and waiting for it to happen. 

There are about to be many changes happening. Already they have begun. My writing partner and roommate and closest friend of six years has ceased to live with me for the first time. I am still getting used to it. It was all rather sudden and I am still unsure as to when I will see her again. I fear that I did not do the things I should have done to help her in the ways that I could. But, I believe in her and I know that we will once again write together like we did before and that we will both learn a great deal by forging for ourselves and doing what is necessary. 

Ah. Well, at least something was written, eh?