Cynthia Lee gave us a prompt yesterday, based on a line she heard me read aloud… i love the tiny writing community I am building. love it. I said I needed to get more dreamy. She asked,
What if I’m going to get MORE dreamy?
Watch out kids. I better get some food planted or they’ll starve all summer. I’ll be covered in colors and drifting from room to room. I already know its time to lose my phone and with it, my tether to a social community. If I get more dreamy, I might be half clothed and dye my clothes to match my hair, tie flowers into chains and get the sauna going again. I predict things trailing behind me, raggedy and ribboned all at once.
If I’m going to get more dreamy, I’ll have to cry it out more often, this prickling sense of dissatisfaction with the present. The longing will have to be let go, and what is that like? I confess to not knowing. What happens when you have no longing?
If I am to get more dreamy, I worry that I will detach.
And if I detach, how will they know themselves, these kids, how will they do it?
If I have secret desires around a man to care for me, like really take care of me… (not money, but care. CARE.) how can they not? Isn’t that what a mother does? Provides the safe and soft landing place? The constancy of support and nourishment? Is it? That sofa again? But with words and thoughts of love and bolster? Is that what it is? And if I am gone? What then? Will they spend their lives seeking it? Like I am? And how could I ever give them that? the longing? The pining?
I can’t, I can’t do it. How will I know they are old enough for me to skitter off? To rattle along the ground like the dry leaf before it is swept up and away?
I forsee my flight, if I am to get more dreamy. I can see it.
And what is that, annihilation? Do I believe I disappear, or am I ascending? Or dispersing, into the brambles to sit with the birds?
I think it’s the birds. It might be that I am already there, somedays. And how is one like this, supposed to get a job, and raise a family and provide?
Hello I’m maria of the alps. It’s a problem.
i’m working on it. in my way.