(no subject)
my dreams are always vivid. always feel real.. but with the changes to my body chemistry from the meds they're different now. i can feel them changing. i can feel them standing out and amazing me.
the past 3 nights now i have stood still at least once in my dreams and merely turned, looked around, observed the beauty and brilliance my mind is creating. and known this world was as real as any other just within my grasp to really appreciate.
i suppose after so many years of the running, the chasing, the blood spills, and the violent arguments anything like this would seem beautiful and simple.
there are still twists, there are still turns, there are still those moments when i know something is wrong.
but those lips on my neck are not pushing my head back to sink into my skin... they are what my body needs. they are the reality of the situation of who i am.
the girl who loves the human touch. not just the sex, not just the violence of it, but the simple act of holding hands, quietly sitting amongst cushions and blankets and watching the world go by, the simple act of a hug that doesn't feel rushed. it's not love i miss. it's the human touch.
it's sad to think the loneliness in my heart isn't from the only love i don't have in my life so much as the loves i miss.
i grew up solitary in the times they tell me matter. the developmental stage they tell me should be the most vivid. it is no more and no less vivid than the memories i have of the top of the hill before they say i should remember. i was never alone then. my mother being a social creature and my father already by then a creature of habit who only felt comfortable around others when high, who seemed to always be high. there were a pack of us children. small and adventurous, little mountain monkeys with a penchant for berries and fossils, two of my favorite things on the face of the planet to this day. we ran wild on those mountains. i was from the time i could walk given more freedom than most people have ever had. funny how my mother trusted me then like she has never trusted me since. i grew up in a pack. i went home an only child. i lived a dual life. maybe that was when it all started.
that changed significantly when she left him. i remember the fighting and the scenes and the screaming and the way i learned to throw myself down stairs to stop them. i remember the heartbreak of watching her drive away and not knowing if she would come back. i remember leaving and nelda looking at me and being the only person who would tell me. tell me it was ok, tell me that they still loved me, tell me that i was their daughter and i was the best of them and i could handle this. i did handle it. not well, but i handled it. years later i think not well is an understatement. but who does handle something like that well... i was always better when told the truth and trusted.... neither one of them could do that for anyone after that. i knew a long time ago that if they had stayed together i would have died very early on. passion is dangerous and if there's one thing they have in common and gave to me it is that. they brought out the worst in each other, but they loved. they honestly loved. it was a swift change. from everything i had known about my life.
maybe i shouldn't think about it so much. maybe it shouldn't be so vivid. maybe then the emotions wouldn't be tied to it. but there is so much i can't forget. times burned into my brain that stand as slow moving films. 30 second shorts of my life from a blond haired bow lipped chubby toddler to the woman i am today. moments shared with other people. moments where i am alone. all of these things that play in my head. somehow they still rise up in my dreams. the vivid colors, the exaggerated body movements, the wildly sci fi carnival fantasy that dances about in my mind.
i am uncontrollably happy that this week there is no terror.
i found myself standing on wood. the shiny planking beneath my feet echoed as i walked. this was a simple hut, but grand, large, ridiculously so. low long eaves hung out over empty space as i walked forward and peered through woven screen, grass so thin, so finely woven and tied together it resembled the bug screen we americans are so proud to own. i marveled at the craftsmanship. the beauty in something so simple and yet so damn intricate. as i turned and looked i realized exactly how large the space was. how beautiful and serene. wood on wood with a systematic exposed structure. everything with the sheen of human hands, worn down wood, the kind you find on old stairwells in quietly rotting homes. the rains started slowly, a trickle, then a drum beat and the empty room became a hollow soft dwelling, all protection i would ever need was here. i walked slowly to the wide opening and watched as the rain poured over the eaves, feet away, and sluiced down the large stairs to puddle in the fields and plains beyond. turning slowly i saw at the very end a red softly glowing silken circus tent of a canopy bed. cloth spun so fine that breeze of my movements sent it tumbling and swirling, colors shifting as the light from outside played against it. soft mist falling on fabric never stained, never soaked, only made all the more brilliant. pulling back a curtain i looked inside and breathed out the sigh of relief as what i can only term as the most comfortable looking bed in the world was in front of me. sheets tumbled and tossed as if i had climbed out moments before finding myself in this world. the warmth evident in those white linens was more inviting than anything i have seen in months. as i slowly crawled in and snuggled down i smiled and laughed. nested myself in fluff and softness and drifted off to sleep.
find me waking later in the same place. see me climbing out of bed to turn as the party began. my party. one of my parties. one of the old ones with multitudes of people passing back and forth. new faces and old surrounding and talking and laughing. the clink of glasses together and on counters only adding to the musical cacophany swirling around me. i laughed, i talked, i was as always, the hostess. and i, as always, enjoyed it. time passed, like those sped up moments in film, the people passing looked like those still photographs of busy streets all color and light and no defined characteristics. the conversations fled and faces before were fast animated caricatures of everything around. then i sped up to join them.
see me tired, watching the dawn sun come up and looking slowly around at my empty space. soft bodies of those i love laying sleeping. deep breaths, in and out. a softness in their forms unaware what in daylight could never be shown. so hard and tough, so capable no matter the storm, but in those private moments, when no one is watching, that is when the qualities i admire most become visible. courage in the face of danger, strength despite the presence of weakness, laughter despite the sadness... finding a way through and a life worth living despite what the world might throw your way.i turned from the wall, arms crossed and smiled. slowly walked back to my haven and climbed in. snuggled down to feel the warmth radiating next to me. i was surprised, but not surprised, this happens often. i pulled the blanket down from his face and as he reached for me and smiled, drawing me near i tried to run. i tried to pull away. then i felt those lips on my neck and i was gone.
no more sanctuary of wood and fields. no more parties in my mind. no more curtains over this haven bed. just me. waking slowly and turning to the clock. the hour way to early but awake i was. i turned over, flipped open my curtains, snuggled the cat lying there and saw the morning sun rising. slid back into my covers. a final oblivion of darkness, if only for an hour.
the past 3 nights now i have stood still at least once in my dreams and merely turned, looked around, observed the beauty and brilliance my mind is creating. and known this world was as real as any other just within my grasp to really appreciate.
i suppose after so many years of the running, the chasing, the blood spills, and the violent arguments anything like this would seem beautiful and simple.
there are still twists, there are still turns, there are still those moments when i know something is wrong.
but those lips on my neck are not pushing my head back to sink into my skin... they are what my body needs. they are the reality of the situation of who i am.
the girl who loves the human touch. not just the sex, not just the violence of it, but the simple act of holding hands, quietly sitting amongst cushions and blankets and watching the world go by, the simple act of a hug that doesn't feel rushed. it's not love i miss. it's the human touch.
it's sad to think the loneliness in my heart isn't from the only love i don't have in my life so much as the loves i miss.
i grew up solitary in the times they tell me matter. the developmental stage they tell me should be the most vivid. it is no more and no less vivid than the memories i have of the top of the hill before they say i should remember. i was never alone then. my mother being a social creature and my father already by then a creature of habit who only felt comfortable around others when high, who seemed to always be high. there were a pack of us children. small and adventurous, little mountain monkeys with a penchant for berries and fossils, two of my favorite things on the face of the planet to this day. we ran wild on those mountains. i was from the time i could walk given more freedom than most people have ever had. funny how my mother trusted me then like she has never trusted me since. i grew up in a pack. i went home an only child. i lived a dual life. maybe that was when it all started.
that changed significantly when she left him. i remember the fighting and the scenes and the screaming and the way i learned to throw myself down stairs to stop them. i remember the heartbreak of watching her drive away and not knowing if she would come back. i remember leaving and nelda looking at me and being the only person who would tell me. tell me it was ok, tell me that they still loved me, tell me that i was their daughter and i was the best of them and i could handle this. i did handle it. not well, but i handled it. years later i think not well is an understatement. but who does handle something like that well... i was always better when told the truth and trusted.... neither one of them could do that for anyone after that. i knew a long time ago that if they had stayed together i would have died very early on. passion is dangerous and if there's one thing they have in common and gave to me it is that. they brought out the worst in each other, but they loved. they honestly loved. it was a swift change. from everything i had known about my life.
maybe i shouldn't think about it so much. maybe it shouldn't be so vivid. maybe then the emotions wouldn't be tied to it. but there is so much i can't forget. times burned into my brain that stand as slow moving films. 30 second shorts of my life from a blond haired bow lipped chubby toddler to the woman i am today. moments shared with other people. moments where i am alone. all of these things that play in my head. somehow they still rise up in my dreams. the vivid colors, the exaggerated body movements, the wildly sci fi carnival fantasy that dances about in my mind.
i am uncontrollably happy that this week there is no terror.
i found myself standing on wood. the shiny planking beneath my feet echoed as i walked. this was a simple hut, but grand, large, ridiculously so. low long eaves hung out over empty space as i walked forward and peered through woven screen, grass so thin, so finely woven and tied together it resembled the bug screen we americans are so proud to own. i marveled at the craftsmanship. the beauty in something so simple and yet so damn intricate. as i turned and looked i realized exactly how large the space was. how beautiful and serene. wood on wood with a systematic exposed structure. everything with the sheen of human hands, worn down wood, the kind you find on old stairwells in quietly rotting homes. the rains started slowly, a trickle, then a drum beat and the empty room became a hollow soft dwelling, all protection i would ever need was here. i walked slowly to the wide opening and watched as the rain poured over the eaves, feet away, and sluiced down the large stairs to puddle in the fields and plains beyond. turning slowly i saw at the very end a red softly glowing silken circus tent of a canopy bed. cloth spun so fine that breeze of my movements sent it tumbling and swirling, colors shifting as the light from outside played against it. soft mist falling on fabric never stained, never soaked, only made all the more brilliant. pulling back a curtain i looked inside and breathed out the sigh of relief as what i can only term as the most comfortable looking bed in the world was in front of me. sheets tumbled and tossed as if i had climbed out moments before finding myself in this world. the warmth evident in those white linens was more inviting than anything i have seen in months. as i slowly crawled in and snuggled down i smiled and laughed. nested myself in fluff and softness and drifted off to sleep.
find me waking later in the same place. see me climbing out of bed to turn as the party began. my party. one of my parties. one of the old ones with multitudes of people passing back and forth. new faces and old surrounding and talking and laughing. the clink of glasses together and on counters only adding to the musical cacophany swirling around me. i laughed, i talked, i was as always, the hostess. and i, as always, enjoyed it. time passed, like those sped up moments in film, the people passing looked like those still photographs of busy streets all color and light and no defined characteristics. the conversations fled and faces before were fast animated caricatures of everything around. then i sped up to join them.
see me tired, watching the dawn sun come up and looking slowly around at my empty space. soft bodies of those i love laying sleeping. deep breaths, in and out. a softness in their forms unaware what in daylight could never be shown. so hard and tough, so capable no matter the storm, but in those private moments, when no one is watching, that is when the qualities i admire most become visible. courage in the face of danger, strength despite the presence of weakness, laughter despite the sadness... finding a way through and a life worth living despite what the world might throw your way.i turned from the wall, arms crossed and smiled. slowly walked back to my haven and climbed in. snuggled down to feel the warmth radiating next to me. i was surprised, but not surprised, this happens often. i pulled the blanket down from his face and as he reached for me and smiled, drawing me near i tried to run. i tried to pull away. then i felt those lips on my neck and i was gone.
no more sanctuary of wood and fields. no more parties in my mind. no more curtains over this haven bed. just me. waking slowly and turning to the clock. the hour way to early but awake i was. i turned over, flipped open my curtains, snuggled the cat lying there and saw the morning sun rising. slid back into my covers. a final oblivion of darkness, if only for an hour.