Let the Sun Shine

The thing I’m finding about getting older, is that I don’t feel older inside. For a moment let’s put aside the obvious. The arthritis in my knees, the bunions, the humps, the bumps, the odd little lumps. The spare tire, the grey hair, the batwings under my arms. Let’s ignore the fact that although, according to those who feel the need to give an opinion, I don’t look nearly 60, not one of those people have said I look like I’m in my 30’s or even my 40’s. Inside, in my head, I feel exactly the same as I did in high school. This is a double-edged sword. While I’m sure the fact that I’m embracing my inner child is great, the inability to let that child put on a pair of big-girl panties once in a while, not so much. I remember sitting in my bedroom in Syosset when I was in high school, listening to The Beach Boys, daydreaming about all the boys I had crushes on, creating elaborate fantasies about how they would finally see how gorgeous I was and drop their girlfriends to ask me out. (Spoiler alert: Didn’t happen). Now, I’ve grown up enough to look back and see that I was as cute as anyone else, but I couldn’t see it. Still can’t. It was and is as much a fantasy as the ones I created in my head. The ones I still create. They’re a little different 40 years later, but they still live only in my head. I am a great actress, I am rich, I am thin, I have the best hair ever, celebs are wearing my jewelry, I travel all over the world, I am going to live forever. Ok, no one lives forever. That really is just a fantasy. The others? Doable. But only if I let them out of my head. There is no dream that can survive locked up in one’s brain. It’s dark and cramped and windowless. Dreams and goals need air, and light, and life. Dreams are what keep us young. Dig ’em up, brush ’em off. Let them see the sun, and dance under the moon. Live forever.
Red-Headed Woman with Beehive Howls at the Moon. From the Red-Headed Woman Series
carynjune

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

I’m going to veer a little off track here and talk about dreams. Specifically , recurring dreams. More specifically the recurring dreams I have, one of which I’ve been having since I was a kid. I assume we all have them and I would love to know where others go in their sleep, but I’m fascinated by the themes that keep popping up. There’s the “Restaurant dream”, where I’m working in a restaurant so enormous that there’s actually a mall inside the restaurant and it takes hours to get from one end to another. I’m always in the weeds and I can never figure out how to use the computer. That part is a variation on the “telephone dream”. Since I was little I’ve had this dream where I keep trying to dial the phone but can’t get through. Back then it was a rotary phone. Now it’s a smartphone that has so many games and pictures popping up that I can’t get to the phone part. Last night it combined itself with the “trying to get to Hollywood Blvd. so I can catch the bus home” dream. I’m on some main tree-lined street , the Santa Monica Freeway is somewhere to my left and I have to figure out how to get to the bus to get home. Often in this dream will appear elements of the “I graduated from Pitt years ago, but I’m still going to school for free” dream. This dream splinters into one of several recurring sub-dreams, either the “it’s halfway through the semester and I have no idea what my schedule is” or “I’m trying to find my dorm room” or the “I’m leaving campus and trying to find Hollywood Blvd. so I can catch the bus home…” And all of these can incorporate the “trying to walk” dream in which I feel like I’m practically crawling trying to walk, like I’m walking through invisible quicksand, not to be confused with the “I’m driving an old Chevy which has no pick up and almost no brakes” dream, which is the “trying to walk” dream with wheels. What is the point of all of this, you ask? Damned if I know. Are dreams our mind trying to work out a problem we have when we are awake? Maybe. But the interesting thing in my case, is that all of these dreams have an element of past lives, College, living in LA, driving my dad’s Impala, working in restaurants. I never dream about money, which occupies so much of my waking thoughts these days. I only rarely dream about my current work situation, or my current husband. If my subconscious is working to come up with solutions for today, why is it a squatter in the abandoned buildings of yesterday? I have choices. I can squat in yesterday, and daydream about the future, or I can see the past lives for what they are, a guide to understanding today and embracing tomorrow. And that’s a daydream come true.

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The Regression Series
carynjune