a french journey

last night i dreamed i was in paris. france dreams are usually happy ones for me, except this one evoked in me a confusing mix of emotions. i was happy, and yet dissatisfied.

in my dream i was planning a trip to paris with my friend liz (which makes sense, as in real life we went to paris together while we were abroad in college), but at the last minute she had to cancel and told me to go on without her. i was ok with that because, even though i was going alone, i felt i was going to meet the person with whom i would walk forever after that. i mean, i know that's dramatic, and i didn't actually say that in the dream, but you know how you get a feeling?

so liz gives me the name and directions to the hotel at which i'm supposed to stay, and i feel confident that i'll remember it. i have vague images of a plane, the airport, being in another hotel, not the final destination–but some in-between world of yellow wallpaper and golden sunlight illuminating through gauzy curtains, and flowers on the windowsill. it's pleasant, and i'm happy. i know i am only waiting to meet this person, and i don't mind waiting here in this beautiful room until it's time to go find him.

then it is time, and i head out of the hotel and start walking down the streets of paris. i'm supposed to be going somewhere near the champs élysées, but now i can't remember the hotel, or how to get there, or even where i am. i'm not unhappy, because it's paris, after all, and i'm going to meet that person, but now my way is confused and there aren't any people walking down the streets to stop and ask for help. it's cold, and fall, and not an unbeautiful day, but it's awfully lonely.

i take out my phone and look at it, and the battery is almost dead, and i feel discouraged that i can't google map myself and figure out where i am, or how to get to where i need to be. but i'm not totally discouraged. i feel a sense of mild adventure mixed with my anxiety–this is the journey, after all, to get somewhere and to someone important. i don't mind doing what it takes.

strange how themes repeat. or maybe not strange. i keep coming back to this search in so many different dreams; especially the one that i think of often, that i had back as a sophomore in college, and is still so, so vivid and moving.

the reality of dreams

when you long for something to happen, what do you do to make it happen? i dream. sometimes i'm not dreaming of anything specific--just of a world in which my thoughts transcribe reality, like dorothy wishing that the world over the rainbow were real. doesn't that song just make you tear up? what a film. there's so much dreaming in the wizard of oz, that it makes you fall in love with all of the characters instantly, you feel so much empathy for them.

not that i believe in wishing over doing--only that i understand what it is to wish to be carried away on the air beyond the physical capabilities of the body. if i only had a brain, a heart, the nerve. i think that's why the film is so beloved--we all have something that we wished we could master more fully in our lives. the definition of living is the repetitious realization of what you want it to be. but there's always the struggle, the journey, towards it. we wouldn't be human without that.

but that's why we never feel we achieve our dreams fully--because we don't want to; what, then, would we look forward to, afterwards? because, deep down, i love that longing. i love seeing a bright point of light in the distance, a goal to run towards.

i have a recurring dream on this theme. the last time i had this dream was in february, but it seems always to be in the back of my mind, just beyond my line of vision. there's this place that i keep going back to, and it's almost like the connecticut shore, but i can't place where it is. i stand on something like a peninsula, with wide sunny streets and cheerful shops and suburban houses, and cherry blossom trees and very green grass. in one moment i'm at the end of the peninsula, where the streets fade into blue water that stretches out across the sound. in another moment, i look again and the street keeps going where the water used to be, and i know that i'm still near the beach, but the road that reaches it is now much, much longer.

i always feel slightly dissatisfied being there, even though another part of me is always at peace, content, basking in the sunshine, and i walk around picking the nicest flowers. in my latest dream of this place, however, i am on some kind of magic carpet that lets me fly up into the cherry trees to reach the blossoms that i normally can't. it's very freeing, and yet at the same time the nicest blossoms are always just out of reach–i pick what i think are the best, and then glance just beyond my fingers and see more. the game continues until i wake up, and i don't know if i feel playful or frustrated.

key words

out of curiosity, and no doubt some vanity, i track the number of visits to my blog through google analytics. actually, it's not very good for my vanity because i don't get a whole lot of people actually caring to read my blog, but i do get quite a few interesting key word searches, in part due to the title of this web journal. here are some of my favorites since the blog's debut in february 2008:

• "description of docks looked and smelled like in the 18th century" what?
• "i wish i was living in 6 century" really? do you wish you were living in serfdom?
• "in love with trees" agree.
• "kitten howling "first night"" eek i remember those nights...
• "red hair in the 18th century" considered evil; it's true--look it up.
• "do you ever wish it was the 18th century now" oh yesss to that...but not to living in the 6th century, for heaven's sake.
• "how is the supermarket of the 18th century different from today" think about that for a minute, now.

filmmaker links eras with latest project | the valley vanguard

filmmaker links eras with latest project | the valley vanguard

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tears of the giraffe

in botswana children learn the lesson of the tears of the giraffe. the story goes that there are women who sit, weaving their baskets, and the giraffe wants to give them something to help, but has nothing to give, and so she gives her tears for them to daub on their baskets. the lesson is that everyone has something to give, even if it is only their tears, their compassion.

alexander mccall smith taught me this story in his series on botswana's finest lady detective. this month has been full of grief for so many people--the loss of friends, family, beloved pets, and some long and tiring days. i wonder that we can bear it all. but i see now that the heart has room to take all of the grief in the world and give it back into something good: an embrace, a listening ear, tears to daub on baskets.

"i suppose that it means that we can all give something," she said. "a giraffe has nothing else to give–only tears." did it mean that? she wondered. and for a moment she imagined that she saw a giraffe peering down through the trees, its strange, stilt-borne body camouflaged among the leaves; and its moist velvet cheeks and liquid eyes; and she thought of all the beauty that there was in africa, and of the laughter, and the love.

bollywood and star wars

oh my goodness, what am i doing? these past two weeks have achieved new levels of stress, on top of which i have two videos to edit, graduate school applications which i haven't even contemplated beginning, a gre subject test to study for, fifteen more high schools to visit this week, and in...here, let's look at the calendar for a moment...ok yup in 24 days i will be a bridesmaid in monica's wedding, and i have no idea how to be a bridesmaid, and i'm going to blush horribly like i do when anyone even mentions blushing, and i have these amazing shoes that i might die in because they're really smooth and the heel is about on par with the eiffel tower, and i just have to make it down the aisle without blushing and falling on my butt, and then i will just have whatever groomsman i cling to on the way back drag me out of the church. oh, god. i feel unready for life.

you know what's a great cure for when you feel like you need a boost of confidence? star wars. also, bollywood dancing. actually, alternating the monsoon wedding soundtrack with the throne room theme from ANH would just about do it. if only i had brought my ipod to ohio.

much better now

a day in the cleveland botanical gardens has renewed my faith in life. it's a lovely little center, with winding paths that slip between and beneath heavy branches, and rough hewn stone seats tucked into corners so you can sit in solitary quiet and listen to small things, even with many people there.

for we know in part, and we prophesy in part, but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end... for now we see dimly as in a mirror, but then face to face; now i know in part, but then i will know fully just as i have been fully known.

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