death, she dreamed

my "family tree"

Last night I had a dream. And this dream had meaning. I'm not one to psychoanalyze my dreams (I guess you could say I'm a latent subconscious realist), but every once in a while you have a dream that screams relevant life metaphor. No matter how skeptical you are, you can't help it, the epiphany will not be ignored. The romantic in you sees a message. This was my dream:

My mother, sister, and I were walking up a winding dirt road atop a mountain with a few other people (random travelers I'd met in real life). As with most dreams, there was no provided context as to why we were there or how we got there. We just were. A van was passing by and the other random travelers and myself thumbed for a ride. The van stopped, slid open the door, and as we got in I yelled for my mother and sister to join. My mom shook her head in classic conservative mom fashion, saying hitch-hiking was unsafe, how could I just get in a car with strangers, etc. I rolled my eyes, got in and shut the door, smug with my own adventurous nature that would get me to the unknown destination faster and through such "unconventional" means.

The van was packed with a generic mix of friendly, multi-national travelers. Soon the road narrowed and the winding nonguard-railed path turned fatal (literally). The van was going one mph too fast and one blind turn would find us off the path and yep, falling to our death. The driver let out a deadpan (with a hint of eerie cheerfulness): "Oh, are you serious?" But rather than a rapid shot down to a climactic crash, the van stayed suspended for a few seconds, and proceeded to fall slowly like a drop of molasses a la Alice down the rabbit hole (maybe time slows like this when death is so imminent?). The van was silent, each passenger tacitly viewing their entire lives projected onto the insides of their eyelids. I was the only one in the van without a friend/partner with a hand to hold so I went ballistic for a few seconds in my lonely mind and with dulled reluctance, accepted my fate. As we neared the ground with the same repelled motion as a landing hovercraft, I lit a cigarette, took a drag, and said plainly and calmly to a deaf audience: "I'll miss my family."

Contact.

Wait, we're still alive. Incredible! It's hard for me to recall exactly how the rest of the dream went from here, but I'll describe the end in the same vague way it stands in my memory. We all got out of the van and walked into what seemed like a border crossing. A derelict building with tall ceilings, flickering lights, and sullen, taciturn folk in a giant waiting room. There was an impression of dragged out bureaucracy, but I couldn't be too sure. Everyone who was waiting seemed like they'd been waiting for ages and were now just "waiting" out of habit. It was cold and dark and stank of hopelessness. It was utterly depressing and there the dream ended.

I wonder if people who know me can draw their own conclusions as to what all this nonsense might mean in relation to my life. Is it too obvious? Too ambiguous?

There are dreams where you're like a character in someone else's dream- your actions aren't yours, your thoughts aren't typical of your own personality, as if you were acting out a script by an unseen stenographer. And there are dreams where you control your own character, where you are comparatively more concerned with your role in this imaginary world, you (at least the subconscious hologram of you) give a shit about what's going on (not to be mistaken for lucid dreaming, where you're aware that you are in a dream). In this dream, I took this latter position.

What struck me most, were my supposed last words. At that moment before I thought my life would end, I said something I honestly didn't think I would. And the words left my mouth before the thought even materialized in my (dream self's) mind. Like a premortem reflex. "I'll miss my family." Nevermind the blatant continuity error - that I don't smoke - but that at the end of my short (but I think fairly fulfilling) lifetime, rather than bask in the glory of my meager life accomplishments, or of happy moments I'd spent with friends (with whom I've opened up to and shared much more than my own family members), or that one lie that's haunted me since third grade, the one thing that fell out of my soul was this sentiment. Not only is there the implication that I cherish my family, but that in whatever beyond I was catapulting towards, I recognized the tragedy that they wouldn't be there. Don't get me wrong, I love my mum, my daddy, my two little sisters. Despite minor conflicts we're a pretty loving, functioning unit. But my actions, my general selfishness, affinity for independence, stubborn wanderlust, would suggest they're not really a priority. That I take them for granted. I have for a long time, but lately I've been trying (halfheartedly) to correct this, without sacrificing my goals, which usually involve being away for long periods of time. Which is why the hitch-hiking scene is poignant. I'm chasing adventure and some elusive, undefinable goal but at the displeasure of my family and at the cost of quality time with them. Only to find myself at the terminal result of this reckless chase, alone and missing them. It was a heartbreaking realization. I could only really decipher the end as entering some kind of purgatory...but ehh maybe later.

Families are weird. At least the normal ones are. I've had countless disagreements with my parents and sisters on really everything. I could list in an instant the flaws I self-importantly disapprove of in each of them (which is no doubt reciprocal). But they've been the one constant in my life and that alone is pretty invaluable. All my friendships and ex-boyfriends and lovers and pop idols and literary protagonists and ideological heroes pale in comparison to my family's staying power. Despite my absences, they never go anywhere, and they never let me forget that. Despite my absence, home never leaves me, and I should make a better effort to not let them forget that.

This doesn't mean I'll stop traveling, that the chase has ended. But that dream (I hope) did mark a perspective shift. When I say "I'll miss my family" I don't want it to mean I already missed them.


Sorry to my aloof friends who found the above repulsively over-sentimental. It wuh'nt written for you. *sassy finger zig-zag*

Cut up my family x-mas card (sorry mum)
I was working on random stuff last night and took a moment to think. When I did, I got a good look at my desk and thought what a mess, then- hey this kinda looks cool. I think peoples' workspaces can be pretty interesting. The gradual accumulation of whatnots.