I had a dream that I was in a flying contest. I was flying my own plane and I had a “crew” of people. We were supposed to fly somewhere and then back and the place we flew to seemed to be like a futuristic apartment building. I got there ok, but the plane stalled a couple of times; I didn’t check everything before getting back in and the bolts and screws were completely off. I took off after fixing a couple of things – I wasn’t thorough, I was just trying to get there first. And so the plane kept stalling and I had to do an emergency landing at a school. I found out that everything was loose and I fixed everything and got back in the air. The kids at the school helped me. So when I took off again everything was tighter. I had a smooth confident flight back and when I landed I found out I came in last – and it’s like no one noticed because they were busy celebrating the winner. And I sarcastically said “thanks to my crew – all the screws came off and I had to stop and fix them”. No one cared. Just suddenly stopped and went about their business.
This dream is so representational of my life. This is what happened – I was “flying” but all the screws were loose and I had to emergency land at a school where the kids helped me fix everything. And when I got back in the plane I safely went to the next stop and life had just gone on. No one noticed I had to stop or even cared. But I did, so I had to blame someone. The truth is I needed to discover the screws were loose and take the time to fix them. Now I can fly anytime I want.
I wrote: “Trish loves ice cream and moondances and yearns to belong.” Trish is my childhood name, and she is a forceful complicated girl who loves ice-cream and moondances and yearns to belong. And she’s five – in a yellow dress with a yellow soda in a concrete clearing with trees all around, and a yellow ice cream shop on the edge of the clearing filled with yellow tables with yellow umbrellas. Yellow felt safe. A soft breeze rushed the green tree leaves. Nothing could touch me there. But nothing could soar either.
When I was eight I loved music and building worlds. I loved playing the piano. Time would stop and I would love the sounds my fingers could make. I must not have been very good when I was little, cuz my piano teacher, Mrs. Carver, told my mom I was only taking piano cuz my sister was. She was just wrong. That was an echo in my life – “You’re just in theatre cuz your sister is”; that was one of the screws coming off. “… we gave you the role cuz we knew your sister could do it,” the screws and bolts were flying. Yellow wasn’t present during those moments. Blackish silver screw like flynt was. Black was comforting here. I could be invisible in the black. I release those ties, untether young Trish and take off again. I love music and I love building worlds.
I will fly.
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