I have always been a little different, the weird kid with a head too old for her shoulders. Turning thirty came as a huge relief for me, because I have always been thirty in my head, for as long as I can remember and I always felt as though I was waiting for my body to catch up.
I was always happy to be a little bit different, the coolest people I knew were different, I had no desire to be the same as anyone. I never worried about the things that my friends worried about, I never cared much for what I was wearing or what kind of shoes I owned.
I worried more about things like the world ending.
I worried about War so incessantly, that I had a reoccurring dream in which I was frantically running around trying to gather supplies...I had to leave, the war was coming, trees were on fire, how would I carry everything I would need?
Being a bonafide Soy fucker, I was always encouraged to explore the meanings of the feelings I had that I did not understand, I was raised to believe dreams were marvelous windows into my mind and each one was either trying to tell me something or trying to process something.
Dreams were both enlightening and necessary but never prophetic, too much time could be spent trying to decipher them.
It never stopped me from spending too much time trying to analyze them, such is the story of my life...thinking too much.
I recently had a reoccurring dream from my childhood. What does that even mean?
It was the kind of dream, long forgotten although I would dream it often as a child, it had been a good twenty years since It had paid me a visit.
In my dream I was still a child, perhaps about ten.
I am riding my bike, along a leaf littered path under the most amazing tree canopy I had ever seen.
From behind me, a boy overtakes me on his bike. He is Chinese, I don't know this because he tells me, it is the only thing he says.
He is chubby, and wearing a red striped T-shirt his round cheeks are red with the effort of riding and he has the most beautiful black shiny hair.
He is laughing. It is a pleasant happy chuckle, his smile reaches his eyes as he speeds past me.
I follow him and we both ride together into a large dark cave, inside the cave, the walls and ground are covered in thick green plasticine, not a bright green, but more of a pine green. I can see the tyre pattern our bike wheels are leaving in the plasticine and I am fascinated with them.
We both get off our bikes and I see the boy dive into the plasticine, he is eating it, taking huge bites, his cheeks unnervingly large and filled with pine green plasticine.
I kneel down beside him and start biting into the plasticine too, I can feel my teeth sinking into the softness of it, I take another bite and hit something hard and metallic.
The boy seems exceptionally excited about this and he stops biting and starts digging into it with his hands, I do copy him and together we pull out a very large old fashioned type writer.
Then it's over. I wake up feeling disturbed and confused.
The strangest thing is that I have a far more profound understanding of what this dream means now, than when I was a kid, and probably has much to do with the fact that I am 12000 words into the 50000 I need by December and I'm stuck, but I must admit it was nice to have a visit from my childhood.
I'm off now, to surely answer a call from my mother, chastising me for referring to myself as a soy fucker.
Do you have a reoccurring dream?