Friends of Fancy

At this moment in time it’s 4:30 in the morning. I know what I should be doing. Yes I do. I should be sleeping. I should be sleeping, but I felt like writing. You know, it was one of those moments late at night when for some reason my pondering thoughts become deafening, rather than the soothing lull that ushers me into sleep. I just didn’t feel like fighting the urge. I’m sure it would have won. *Grumbles* that rapscallion of an urge!

I was just talking today about what makes someone a best friend or not… as opposed to a friend or an acquaintance. I’m conscious about how I refer to people. I don’t usually use the word “best” or the word “acquaintance,” but at the same time I’m very selective when I refer to someone as a friend. If in all truth I actually do not know them very well, I won’t call them a friend. Instead I call them, “a girl from class,” or “a guy I know from choir,” or “my neighbor Jim.” It’s not even that I chose to refrain form using the word friend, it’s just that the other option would be calling them acquaintances, and that just sounds rather on the chilly side. “Acquaintance” reminds me of the Great Gatsby parties, where the greeting at the doorway is the first introduction for most people.

I feel like every experience in meeting someone is unique, so then there is no official title that can be assigned to these people. So my delicacy around the issue of using “friend” to describe someone is by no means an aversion to the word. The only way I can really understand this trait in myself is to look at my sign. Taurus. I’m someone who is absolutely loyal to the few people I truly, undeniably, and even painfully love. I feel an extraordinary bond with those who have made a deep imprint on my life, and who I couldn’t even imagine living without.

Time. It is the time I’ve spent with these people that helps to create the bond. I noticed that I kept coming back to time as an answer for how people become close. Taurus describes me well, because along with the people who have truly touched me, and who I have touched, there is the time it took to become close. I am cautious, I think, not because I doubt people, but because I really realize how very complex a person is. It takes me a very long time to get close to someone. I know that no person can ever easily show themselves to anyone, and it takes sharing common experiences—pains and pleasures, jokes and fighting, truths and failings, passions and un-guarded feelings—to relinquish protective pretences and be honest and open.

This is always the place I would like to be; without the veneer of a façade. Yet I realize we humans try to protect ourselves. We can’t avoid our gentle hesitance. It happens not only in me, but in everyone. It’s like a little dance of friendly encouragement. We are like children getting used to the ocean for the first time. It takes both of them coaxing each other and testing the waters to at last end up playing in the waves together. This is why it takes time for me to feel comfortable with someone: I know that everyday you spend time with someone, they offer a little bit more of themselves… Juuuust a little bit at a time.

I love the point in the future where it all comes together. You can laugh about a million things, you notice they are wearing your favorite shirt, you automatically know to hand over your olives, you can predict how they are going to tell a story, you find it endearing how they over-use the word “tight….” It’s beautiful when you feel so close to someone that you hold nothing back. You are familiar with and love their faults and fancies. And the greatest thing is: No matter how well you think you know someone, they will always still surprise you.

I feel so lucky

Here I am sitting in bed this morning. I really love theses European shutters; they block out all the light and just leave a slight glow from outside. I’ve often gazed at them on lazy mornings when I’m caught between dreaming and daylight. Like right now I’m looking at them and they remind me of the inside of a giant snake. It’s as if I have been swallowed up and I’m looking through the scaled skin of the snake at the piercing sun of the dessert.

I have less than a month now until I come home. I’m very excited but also worried about the next events that will follow upon returning. Living in Europe these past few months has saved me. I couldn’t guess where I’d be right now if I hadn’t come. I needed a life-changing experience to show me how big the world really is—and there it was, a chance I couldn’t pass up. I’ve really needed this. I felt so trapped before, and couldn’t really grasp the deepness of chance. The world really is a big place, and I’ve seen so little of it. After living in Europe I’ve caught a glimpse of what life is really about. It doesn’t have to be familiar to feel safe. I don’t think I’d be as happy as I am now, if I hadn’t done this. Budapest will be the first of many adventures into the world of newness. I feel so lucky.

Yay! 150 posts!

Dream April 16th 2008 The Great Tree

Yes that's right. For some reason all I have been posting of late are my dreams...

Dream of The Great Tree

My dream was purely an image, locked with the unquestionable understanding of a dreaming mind, and the raging feelings that charge the world only in sleep.

I came upon a lone tree, curving with gigantic, moss covered braches at the top of a small grassy hill. It was the only tree in sight for miles and miles, and like a lost and forgotten childhood friend, it knew me better than I knew myself.

The tree had called to me this morning, and I sprang from my bed into the dawn to meet it. I had searched for hours trying to locate it but at last I found it.

I climbed the hill, step by step, coming closer. As I reached the delicate, yet ancient form, I found myself at a grassy ledge, weed-less and gleaming with elegant dew drops in the fresh light.

Bellow the ledge a vast valley opened up and I peeked down tentatively, catching sight of the tree’s trunk. It was so enormous that it’s roots came from the valley floor, a thousand feet below me, cloaked in seething mist. If I didn’t look down, I noticed, the tree looked like any other dream of a climbing tree. Its braches were covered in beds of turquoise moss, and the braches were as soft and wide as mattresses. They were so inviting and I couldn’t resist a climb.

I hoisted myself up with the help of a healthy looking fern, planted deep into the moss. I made my way onto the biggest branch quite easily, despite the fact that was still wearing my nightdress. I felt ecstatic in the arms of the tree, but there was a strange, gnawing curiosity that held my attention. If I looked down at the chasm like I was now, the earth looked farther away than the darkest spot of universe, but if I looked behind me, it was but a jump away.

Banjo Music On a Highway Dream

Dream 4/14/08

I haven’t slept too soundly the past few days, and this morning it caught up with me when I unfortunately slept through my alarm. Usually I try not to wake Seren with the shrill, ear-splitting terror that is my alarm, so I stuff the clock under my pillow to stifle the noise. This morning however, I was just tired enough and just stubborn enough to ignore my alarm completely. The two hours of un-planned sleep led me to a strange dream.

The dream was about my mother again. We were driving on the highway with open windows, late for something unmentioned. My mother was driving and I was quite nervous about this situation. She drove faster and faster, swerving out of the lane to pass slower cars. The car wheels sketched and my breathing quickened uncontrollably. I realized suddenly that there was music filling the car. It was music from the car stereo that sounded like a ravenous banjo playing an unthinkably fast beat, twanging and strumming almost comically in this dangerous situation. I tried to ask my mother to slow down, but she calmly explained that it was impossible for us to be late. The oncoming traffic began to thicken and as my mother swerved into the adjacent lane, the car nearly missed the honking cars that zoomed past of. The thumping banjo music played louder, as the car increased in speed.

At this moment Seren woke me up, and I gratefully threw on clothes so that we could head to class and make it on time.

Lost In SF Dream

Dream 4/11/08

My mother and I were supposed to be spending the day together in San Francisco. Unexpectedly, my mom had to run off to a meeting and she asked if I would be okay if she took the car. I said, yes, it’s no problem—only this wasn’t the truth. I had no idea how to get home without a map, or a car, or without knowledge as to the whereabouts of the nearest Bart station.

I was left alone. The sky was slowly getting darker behind the tall buildings so I began to run. I ran and ran, trying to find something I recognized before the sun was completely gone. This was my biggest fear: to be lost in a city without sunlight.

I seemed to run for hours, hitting the ocean occasionally and cursing the fact that I was going in the wrong direction. Without realizing it I planned to run all the way across the bridge and all the way home.

My throat become uncomfortably dry and I found myself in a supper market desperate for something to drink. A particular shelf caught my eye and I stumbled over to it. On closer inspection it was crowded with juice boxes just like I used to drink as a young child. I picked up the pink lemonade flavored box and brought it to the counter. For some reason I couldn’t compose my features and all I could do was look away embarrassed and shyly hand the juice box to the casher. The man took one look at the flustered girl in front of him and chuckled, handing the juice box back to me. It’s all yours kiddo, this one’s on me, he said smiling.

After managing the quickest eye contact I could muster, I ran from the store. It was almost twilight and I knew I couldn’t stop. I reached a huge hill that stretched far up into the horizon. It must go on forever, I thought shaking my head. In the distance on either side of me tall building stood, but the hill was like a forest, chocked with trees and brambles. Maybe this is the end of the city, I thought curiously. I found what I was looking for.

I bolted into the wood, running without a care at how many brambles tore at my bare legs beneath the skirt I wore. At last I reached the plateau and a strange park unfolded before me, filled with peculiar people. I passed a group of idle, leather-clad bikers, who followed me with their eyes. Hey girlie, said one softly, I think you’ll be wanting to follow those guys over there. He pointed to a line of young men about my age, waiting behind what looked like an extremely long water slide tube. I finally stopped running when I reached them, felling in behind the last in the line, a guy wearing a plaid shirt.

It’s clear guys, someone shouted, lets get going. They climbed into the tube, one after another and I followed. Inside the tube was larger, and square, but without room to stand up. It seemed to be patched together using old cardboard and car parts. The farther we went inside, the smaller the tube became. There was one place inside the tube where I had to crawl through a tire with a warning posted next to it, informing me stating that the next section of the tube had shrunk to 14’’. I hesitated and watched the line of guys go first. My mouth fell open, shocked that they could all fit. They disappeared into the next section and I was left alone.

A few moments passed and I heard someone coming in the opposite direction. No! I shouted, not wanting to be pushed back to the beginning. I thrust my hands through the small opening, trying to keep them from coming through first. I wriggled my way through. It was dark for a moment, but then I made it into the fresh air.

I was standing on a BART platform. I looked around confused. Behind me I saw the tube miraculously disguised under a bench. None of the other passengers seemed to notice that a girl just crawled out from a hole in the floor. Just then a train came by and I dived on to it, thankful that they were still running. I sat down and looked out the window. A young high school boy walked to the bench from where I had just come and looked both ways. Then quickly he scrambled down the tube. What’s it for? I wondered. Why do people use it? But just then the train began to move and I breathed a sigh of relief.