Is this what Grace feels like?
Oh God. I think I may have just had an epiphany. After this week from hell, it finally becomes clear. I never believed in serendipity before, but I just might now.
I thought that I was broken, that I'd never be fixed inside. Especially when I woke up this morning. I thought "Well, Family Weekend is over, so why don't I feel better?" I spent the afternoon in Nicole's room with great people, but I still felt wrong inside. I spent the night working, but I still felt wrong inside. I'd felt wrong for the past week. You people read the entries. It started with the dreams, then my body, and then my memories, and it just grew and grew. I even had a two-hour long midnight walk last week. I hadn't done that in so long.
When I went on that walk, I only encountered one other person who interacted with me. Sara went by on her bike and she stopped when she saw me. She asked me some questions I don't quite remember and I basically gave her the impression that I didn't want to talk to anyone, even though it was obvious she was concerned about me. I told her this was something that I do sometimes, so then she asked where I was going. I said, "Nowhere." As she got ready to head off to St. Mary's, the last thing she said to me was, "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you're going somewhere." Then she left. I was almost stopped in my tracks by that. As I continued walking, I kept repeating those words over and over to myself. What did she mean by that? Where the hell am I possibly going? I couldn't figure that out. I finally returned to Bertrand, feeling worse than I had when I left, thinking that I would never get answers to any of my questions, especially that newest one.
So tonight when I finished my work in the library, I got two cravings. One was for ice cream. The other was to write. So I figured I'd go to the c-shop to get a frappe and start writing a new story, one that would incorporate the crazy dreams I'd been having for the past few weeks. Like the last story I wrote, I had no intended conclusion for it. I just hoped that by writing my thoughts down, a conclusion would come to me.
So I was sitting at a table by the ice cream counter, writing, obsessing over the exact words to choose and Mark came over. We talked about the play for a bit, then he went to see if his food was ready. I wrote a bit more and he came back and sat with me. He asked if this was the story I had been writing last week. I said that I'd finished that story and I was writing a new one, that this happens when I get in moods. He said that he understood exactly how I felt and that he'd been writing down his dreams, trying to understand them. This really struck me. I hadn't even mentioned my dreams to him. But when he said that I told him that I could relate, that I'd been having weird dreams lately as well, or rather, extra weird dreams. Then we just briefly talked about them a little bit, not a whole lot in depth, but I could barely believe what I was hearing. His dreams sounded so similar to mine, and his feelings were just like mine. I obsess quite a bit over my dreams, trying to get the meaning out of them, so I've talked about dreams a lot with people, and never before have I shared such understanding with someone about them. He had to go after that, but I sat there for another minute or so when it struck me how I felt when I spoke with him how it was like we understood each other perfectly, as if I'd just been talking to myself instead of another person. It has happened so rarely in my life. Finally, someone else having dreams like mine, trying to understand them like me. I left the c-shop and as I walked back here in the cool rain, I felt like finally I was comprehending something - that I'd finally gotten to the place that Sara said I was going last week.
It all feels so clear to me now. Like I've finally been given an answer. Can it possibly stay this way?
I thought that I was broken, that I'd never be fixed inside. Especially when I woke up this morning. I thought "Well, Family Weekend is over, so why don't I feel better?" I spent the afternoon in Nicole's room with great people, but I still felt wrong inside. I spent the night working, but I still felt wrong inside. I'd felt wrong for the past week. You people read the entries. It started with the dreams, then my body, and then my memories, and it just grew and grew. I even had a two-hour long midnight walk last week. I hadn't done that in so long.
When I went on that walk, I only encountered one other person who interacted with me. Sara went by on her bike and she stopped when she saw me. She asked me some questions I don't quite remember and I basically gave her the impression that I didn't want to talk to anyone, even though it was obvious she was concerned about me. I told her this was something that I do sometimes, so then she asked where I was going. I said, "Nowhere." As she got ready to head off to St. Mary's, the last thing she said to me was, "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you're going somewhere." Then she left. I was almost stopped in my tracks by that. As I continued walking, I kept repeating those words over and over to myself. What did she mean by that? Where the hell am I possibly going? I couldn't figure that out. I finally returned to Bertrand, feeling worse than I had when I left, thinking that I would never get answers to any of my questions, especially that newest one.
So tonight when I finished my work in the library, I got two cravings. One was for ice cream. The other was to write. So I figured I'd go to the c-shop to get a frappe and start writing a new story, one that would incorporate the crazy dreams I'd been having for the past few weeks. Like the last story I wrote, I had no intended conclusion for it. I just hoped that by writing my thoughts down, a conclusion would come to me.
So I was sitting at a table by the ice cream counter, writing, obsessing over the exact words to choose and Mark came over. We talked about the play for a bit, then he went to see if his food was ready. I wrote a bit more and he came back and sat with me. He asked if this was the story I had been writing last week. I said that I'd finished that story and I was writing a new one, that this happens when I get in moods. He said that he understood exactly how I felt and that he'd been writing down his dreams, trying to understand them. This really struck me. I hadn't even mentioned my dreams to him. But when he said that I told him that I could relate, that I'd been having weird dreams lately as well, or rather, extra weird dreams. Then we just briefly talked about them a little bit, not a whole lot in depth, but I could barely believe what I was hearing. His dreams sounded so similar to mine, and his feelings were just like mine. I obsess quite a bit over my dreams, trying to get the meaning out of them, so I've talked about dreams a lot with people, and never before have I shared such understanding with someone about them. He had to go after that, but I sat there for another minute or so when it struck me how I felt when I spoke with him how it was like we understood each other perfectly, as if I'd just been talking to myself instead of another person. It has happened so rarely in my life. Finally, someone else having dreams like mine, trying to understand them like me. I left the c-shop and as I walked back here in the cool rain, I felt like finally I was comprehending something - that I'd finally gotten to the place that Sara said I was going last week.
It all feels so clear to me now. Like I've finally been given an answer. Can it possibly stay this way?