Yes I am a dreamer

...for a dreamer finds his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.  ~Oscar Wilde

Oh god am I dreamer.

I never realized that this quality was significant.  That'd be like recognizing a handful of yourself if you were the ocean, I dont think really it can be done.

I am totally a dreamer and therefor prone to long diseased bouts of utter funk of thinking, that false truth of disenchantment that Neitzsche or Sartre, one of them, talks about.  Believing the reality that every other person buys in to has to somehow be yours, too.

I talked for a long time to an old friend last night.  His mom helped raise my brother and me so when I say old, I truly mean that.  We knew each other innocent: as kids.  The kind of friends that are always there and taken for granted so much so that re-discovering one another adds unexpected newness to your own self.  And indeed part of the reason you value that person so much is because you love the surprise of what it's like when someone holds your whole life in their own memory like that.  He was telling me what it was like finding a group of friends that were outside the circle of the gang we grew up with as so many of them are married with children now.  He talked about being 30 and finding a whole new home of friends in the city who are all in their thirties, childless, still single.  How it was tough at first, but he got the swing of it and now it's totally him.  He made his passing.

This has been an issue for me lately I guess--single, kidless, about to be 34, no prospects on the pink and gold line of my horizon of any special man.  It was sort of tough for me for a while, like I went through this weird period that it was really on my mind around Thanksgiving and the weeks after.  My large family saw lots of weddings this year, with several more to come, so I suspect that was a main factor.  I had to sit with the loneliness until I realized it to be totally normal. I had to shake off the shame I associated with it.  The truth is I'm pretty social and also sensual and very fly (seek ye modesty seek elsewhere, please~) and so of course there was credence to that kicky whiny voice of where is my man??   But I have to tell you, allowing that voice it's full strength eased me in to, as it always does, a new level of comfort and acceptance of my self.  And in that I am good again, and so the desperation seems to have passed.  Which feels a little scary--being alright as an independent single woman, being on the verge of my whole, unique life.  It's like being suspended on the edge of a cliff in some bunji gear.  Like I know I just have to find total trust in my harness but damn that's a wide open expanse just out to my front...!

And how amazing, how truly awing--that far, far off view.  Recently my friend Jotto shared a quote with me.    To live a creative life we must lose our fear of being wrong.   Yea, it's sort of like that.  Losing the fear of experiencing the fears that maybe this path is wrong...so that then I can get back on my path and keep moving! The world is what it is because of dreamers like me.  They're not everywhere, it's actually a very active part of my process--seeking them out, and doing so specifically so I continue to take action on my dreams, on the goldlit pink-skied passions that sing specifically to me.  Driving to Easton to see Sam open for the Spring Standard's show, allowing that live music to enter in to me until I was so alive and jamming that we were all still dancing an hour later in the street.  Big open talks with Laura Walsh and sharing songs in the car til 2 am.  Telling the lead singer about sitting out my window when I lived in the apartment on Goldsborough, letting my feet dangle to rest on the roof and me and my cold breath talking to the moon.

Who does that?

Who tells the hot indy artist about that?  And who talks to the moon, anyway?

Dreamers.  Dreamers do, and we tell on ourselves so that maybe you will, too.