Last night I dreamt that I sailed out to a cold island off the northern atlantic coast with an old pirate called Pim, and I kept asking him if Cormac Macarthy was really going to be there when we arrived. "This is not for me to say", he said gruffly, tiny diamonds of ice clinging to his beard.
From not far off the coast I could see a great big black whale, bathing itself in the sunshine on the rocky shore. I was scared that it was dead, beached, and told Pim that we needed to help it. But the as we closed in on the whale, it moved and arced its giant fin, I knew it was okay, just maybe taking a break from the waves.
Cormac did greet us at the shore with a black rain slicker and matching hat. He said he had been waiting and there was tea inside the house. Pim said he could stay for an hour but he had to get back on the water before it got too dark and windy. Inside his house, Cormac had miniature animals- real ones, but very tiny, in small, clear compartments on a wall. I asked how they survived and he said they were all quite vegetarian. Paper was scattered about and he kept looking for a record to put on his turntable- I asked him if he had Phillip Glass and he told me that was pretentious. I told him I liked the cinematic feel to it and he said he hated the cinema.
I asked him what he did like and he told me he liked how safe he felt being protected by the giant animals out at sea and protecting the tiny animals on the island. "It give me perspective, and every day I write, look out my window, and wave to God".
Pim had gone without saying good bye and I felt scared and excited at all I could learn.
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I read this quote today but I'm not sure who wrote it: "It is just that their powerful and golden leonine energy sweeps away everything before it, overwhelming as a mighty wave that doesn't ask permission of ships or shells". I like that, doesn't ask permission of ships or shells. Should we consider these small things? Or should we wave? It reminds me of C.S. Lewis or something.
On a side note, a homeless woman asked me for change this morning on my way to get coffee beans. I said yes and she told me she was trying to remember how to say Mickey Mouse in Spanish. She said the first part, and I said "raton?" She said, "Ah, ci! Raton cita! How did you know this?" I said I don't know, I don't speak Spanish, just a few words.
It was a good way to start out the day! I feel happy.
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Wow. What a wild, detailed dream. What did you have for dinner the night before?
ReplyDeleteI actually went to a Philip Glass concert back in the 70's. It's been so long ago that I don't remember whether I went because I was really into his music or because I thought it would be cool to say I had been to a Philip Glass concert. I don't remember a lot of details about it, except thinking, "And they say pop music is repetitious." Still, his work was a great aural counterpoint to the images in the film "Koyaanisqatsi". Did you see that one?
Your quote about ships and shells reminds me of my experience scuba diving. (Actually, a lot of things remind me of scuba diving.) Many people take to the ocean to see big sea creatures--like sharks and whales and barracuda. But I can find myself at the bottom of the ocean, under 60 feet of water, spellbound for minutes by a baby seahorse or a tiny banded coral shrimp that's not much bigger than a daddy long legs. There are amazing things going on, no matter where you look. (And some really amazing things if you look closely.)
It also reminds me of an editorial I read today in the New York Times which reminds us that earthquake in Haiti didn't "ask permission either. It's mighty wave came crashing over rich and poor alike, laying waste to both big ships and the tiniest shells.
So what do these last two paragraphs have in common? Hmm. Well...in my ADD-ish brain (which is where a lot of the best creative ideas seem to come from), I guess I'll just say, there are forces bigger than all of us (call them nature's shock and awe) that can in one minute fill us with the wonder and the beauty of this world...and the next minute bite us in half with their mighty, and seemingly indiscriminate, jaws of death.
Despite the anxiety such contradictions can cause, what I like about you is how you've got your eyes wide open and are taking it ALL in. From the vivid dreams and friendships you cultivate to the cookbooks you sample from and the homeless ladies you engage with. You seem present and engaged and very much alive to the possibilities before you.
Being in the moment like that...no wonder you're happy.