Yes, well, as a woman new to the Whoooovian world, imagine my shrieks (and my mum’s) of terror upon viewing the episode “Blink.”
And before that, as a widow in a vulnerable position, lost without her love, imagine the running from the room and the tears after the episodes “Human Nature” and “The Family of Blood.”
Awww, fucking Doctor…
We went over to a friend’s house for dinner. She had just put up her tree and after dinner her cat came down and hid behind the tree. Lily was fascinated.
Christmas is easier with silliness like this.
Nick would love this dog.
Caveat lector: there be spoilers here…
We went to see “Gravity,” a fun movie, visually beautifully filmed/created, and while it’s all about perils in space, it really is more heavy-handedly, a story about rebirth.
There were a few tear inducing moments, but there was this part, where the main character, who has become resigned to eminent death is told the following:
“I get it, it’s nice up here. You could just shut down all the systems, turn down all the lights, just close your eyes and tune out everyone. There’s nobody up here that can hurt you. It’s safe. What’s the point of going on? What’s the point of living? Your kid died, it doesn’t get any rougher than that. It’s still a matter of what you do now. If you decide to go then you just gotta get on with it. Sit back, enjoy the ride, you gotta plant both your feet on the ground and start living life.”
And I’m there in the theatre, with my big ridiculous 3D glasses and tears leaking out beneath, and I hear what is being said— and I understand it— but there is a swell in my chest and a voice in my head that wants to scream:
“BUT I CAN’T. I CAN’T START LIVING. I’M ALONE. I DON’T WANT TO LIVE LIKE THIS!”
And I choke on sobs, trying not to be heard in the absolute silence of the cavernous theatre…
After the movie, we pull into Trader Joe’s where I need to run in to get a couple things. Standing in the back of the store, I hear the first hammering chords and drums of Electric Light Orchestra’s “Mr. Blue Sky.”
“Sun is shinin’ in the sky
There ain’t a cloud in sight
It’s stopped rainin’,
everybody’s in the lane
And don’t you know, it’s a beautiful new day, hey!”
I stop and smile.
"Runnin’ down the Avenue
See how the sun shines brightly
In the city on the streets where once was pity
Mr. Blue Sky is living here today, hey!
Mr. Blue Sky, please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long
Where did we go wrong?
Hey, you with the pretty face
Welcome to the human race
A celebration Mr. Blue Sky’s up there waitin’
And today is the day we’ve waited for…
…Hey there Mr. Blue, we’re so pleased to be with you
Look around see what you do
Everybody smiles at you.”
I stand there, holding a wedge of Wisconsin Monterey Jack, and I stare at the cheese, listening to the song grinning. I stand a little taller, I hold my head up…
Grinning with tears in my eyes.
“Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live Maybe one of these days you can let the light in”
Sara Bareilles - Brave
I finally figured out who the uniformed man was in my subconscious last night … It was this guy… Where did you come from dude?And where was the dog in the dream??
I had a dream I was back on the rock. Only it was all different, it wasn’t our rock. The language was wrong, the place was almost— elegant.
And there was a man. Young, handsome, imposing, in a uniform, his arm protectively around me. Mine around him. It wasn’t comfortable per se , it was almost forced— an urge of sorts.
The rest of the dream was the usual surreal world of Morpheus: mysterious laboratories this man and I had to defend, concealed identities, there was a fight, guns. Later a scene in a church with a score of people in war period dress singing a Monty Python song. An old friend from school randomly passes through for a trivial chat. Driving through tunnels, onto river banks, into an ancient city. Some bureaucracy, papers, permission to stay, the man is trying to help me… I later wander twilight streets eating a basket of rice, waiting to meet the aforementioned man again.
But this one moment. Walking in the cold, him taking me somewhere, arm around me…
He leads me to his apartment where a white pigeon had flown in, feathers everywhere and I can’t get the bird out. He’s told me he’d be right back. He had to move a truck— but, as if the dream were a story with a narrator, or backstory, I realize that the truck is set to detonate upon ignition. And here I am fighting with a bird. And I want him back—safely.
I know my dreams fall into a couple of camps: ones that are clearly meant to tell me something— the ones that when you wake, you know they are not of this world. Second are the ones where my subconscious is left alone at night to sort out my quotidian life. And lastly, the ones where as Eddie Izzard says, your grandmother turns into a Mars bar and your feet are made of jam— and it’s all absurd, but there are emotions that rule— that is what I focus on— what the dreams make me feel something strongly. That is what I focus on for analysis…
Today when I woke, my memory only could linger on his arm around me, mine around him. Under his heavy coat, holding onto his side.
As I move through my day, I go back to this feeling, his body against mine as we walked the rainy, congested streets. And I realize, while of course I miss the touch of a man, and a chivalrous embrace— it’s the love of a man I miss and the trust and security that comes with that love.
I was reminded of a piece Kurt Vonnegut wrote during our most recent McCarthy-like era, and thought I’d share this bit as a shout out to Librarians…
“And on the subject of burning books: I want to congratulate librarians, not famous for their physical strength or their powerful political connections or their great wealth, who, all over this country, have staunchly resisted anti-democratic bullies who have tried to remove certain books from their shelves, and have refused to reveal to thought police the names of persons who have checked out those titles.
So the America I loved still exists, if not in the White House or the Supreme Court or the Senate or the House of Representatives or the media. The America I love still exists at the front desks of our public libraries.”
To read his whole essay: