After that day, though, I began to feel as out of place as I always do in the house I grew up in. There are pieces of me scattered throughout: a photograph of five year old me, bitter and mischeivious, a toy that I used to play with hidden under the couch for some reason, a box of old clothes, art lost on my father's desk, old homework, not to mention the buckets of nostalgia that fill my bedroom here. I know these people, these boys and men that I have been. I understand that they are what I have been, but I do not understand them. They are each foreign to me, like a skin that I have shed, something that I once loved but no longer need. Friends and enemies alike, I look into their eyes, but I do not relate.
Then, I began to have vivid dreams. First, I was dressed as Wolverine and holding a costume party, but I had real claws in my knuckles, and Apocalypse was really threatening to end the world. I was roommates with an old friend of mine, a beautiful, intelligent woman who I don't see very often now, and she told me to let go of my past and to make the people in my life now into people that I could love. My friends were at the party, and they were having fun, and I was happy. But my old friend's words and her sadness, they made me feel out of place. She disturbed me in this dream and for a moment, I considered giving in, and then I remembered that I am not the type of person to force things like that. I remembered that I had to stop Apocalypse and that my friend/roommate was probably under his sway. So we went into another room to start a new game while a thunderstorm brewed in the night outside.
The next night, I dreamt that I was running around a downtown European town, but I could not remember where. I was suddenly naked and realized quickly that this was a dream, so I tried to convince myself that I was not naked. (Someone recently commented that this probably had something to do with my recent surgery, and I think she was right.) But it did not work, so I convinced myself that there was a thrift store nearby, into which I wandered and found some random clothes. Then, a Russian character from a series of books turned movies walks in and tells me we have to hurry because the world is in danger. So he hands me a cowboy hat and goes to pay, while I try to figure out what he's talking about. At this point, I remember that we are saving the planet from destruction, so we rush to get into his car, only for us to arrive at my grade school reunion where I run into my friends SG and B, for soem strange reason, who save me from crowds of people I once knew but no longer care to know. Including several irritating teachers. We rushed out to B's car, where I almost got into the driver's seat. But I didn't, only to remember that I had Wolverine's claws. At which point, again, I remembered that I was dreaming, only to awaken.
Mostly, I just wanted to tell someone these dreams. But I also feel myself rushing through a series of identities lately, pouring over books and movies, trying to find someone that I can relate to. Someone that I can admire or look up to. I have never been able to find really strong role models, with a few exceptions. And lately, I don't know who I am trying to become, but I am terrified of becoming someone vapid, someone cruel, or someone soft. And I know that in a weird way, my mind is trying to remind me of a few things. That I am strong. That I am tough. That if I wanted to, I could get into the driver's seat, metaphorically, and take charge. But I keep deferring to others.
Top that metaphor off with the fact that my dad's health seems to be getting worse, and my parents want to buy me an electric or alternative car of some kind, and I guess it's time to get in the driver's seat, metaphorically and for real.
What happens when the rains come?
No comments:
Post a Comment