I was first introduced to Hadestown through Live From Here (Which is where I get all my music these days), Anais sang "Why We Build the Wall" which is not about US politics, but she sang the songs by herself in interviews and performances at the time, and it took awhile to adjust to the cast. I'd like to see the performance, I imagine some visuals would make the other sounds make more sense.
I read somewhere that some folks consider music a separate language of love. A way of sharing thoughts and feelings that can't be expressed through words or actions. It reminds me a lot that at the beginning of relationships I've had a lot of people try to share their favorite music with me. I wonder if this were acknowledged, whether some communication issues between folks could be worked out. Like "Hey, I know you can't explain right now, what's a song that comes to mind?"
I keep struggling to sleep. Stomach issues, and the air in my apartment. The way it gets dry before it snows. The way my humidifier doesn't seem to be doing enough. The thrashing. The Dreams. The cold and heat. I know I slept a lot last night and the night before, but I woke up continuously feeling like I hadn't.
The other night I had a dream. I don't remember all the plot. I remember holding a heavy book, leather bound, precious. The book was clearly important, but it had been soaked. And I was holding it, not wanting to let it go, the promise of magic, or maybe I'd already attached to the story, but I was unable to open it again for fear that opening would cause the ink to run and smudge. The story would never get to be read, it would remain a mystery, or incomplete. I kept carrying it around wherever I went, asking people for help or hoping they would acknowledge it.
My mom was in the dream, and she said something. I don't know if it was directly related or if it were something that I applied to the book. But suddenly I was looking down and realizing that the damp book in my hands would have to be let go. Telling myself I could pick it up later, find a different addition, find something else to read. But in its current state, it would never do me any good. It was just an anchor in my hands holding me down, and it wasn't my burden to bear.
Last night I had a number of strange dreams. I am not sure which are related or even what the order was anymore (maybe the first is actually the second one?) But they seemed significant.
1) I was on the bus. The bus driver spoke another language and it seemed that everyone else did too. There was a major party happening in a park to our right. A festival really. I knew I was supposed to be chaperoning, and that my shift would begin soon, but the bus driver would not let me off the bus. Other people waited patiently, but I did not. I wasn't sure if they were going to drive ahead or just keep letting us off one at a time very slowly. The bus driver gave me no indication of anything, but would not allow me off. I kept looking out the window to the festival below, knowing that I was both responsible and missing a good time. I wondered how many buses were waiting in this queue. If there was some sort of capacity of the festival that they couldn't exceed, I wanted to shout at them that I had my place there, I was supposed to be there, I had a job to do! but they didn't care at all. And every moment that passed I felt like my life was being wasted.
2) I was walking away from something. If I had to say, it was Cedar Manor my elementary school, and I was headed toward the sledding hill by myself. I know I hoped to join others there, the sort of trickling end of the festival? I was determined to have my own fun regardless.
On the way, I passed my older brother and another man. He was dressed as a security guard and somehow I knew he was working as a guard for the school (dressed more like a british police man). Two young african american boys were fighting. James and the other guard were trying to settle the manner, but focused on one of the boys while the other stomped off in a huff. I passed the boy who was stomping around, and could read on his face a desire to be attended to, but I was too busy going to my sledding hill, and wanted to trust that the others could handle it (not do their jobs for them). I turned to see the boy stomp back and kick my brother in the butt. I laughed. But when I looked back again, I saw my brother with a stick beating the boy mercilessly. And called out for him to stop. He stopped but did not look guilty.
I carried on to the sledding hill angrily. Determined to live my life and have a good time, but internally feeling betrayed and furious that he would do something like this.
I continued to sled, going off jumps and generally being amazing (I was a star at sledding!) but was distracted the whole time. Eventually I went to the top of the hill and realized I'd have to play my part.
3) I was searching through the rooms at the party, trying to have a good time, but also find something I had lost. A credit card? I kept bumping into people who I know vaguely (they were all from high school) and they wanted brief awkward updates on life, or rather, they wanted to be acknowledged, but quickly realized I was preoccupied with something else. Most would walk away with a look like they knew I was fooling myself, and they knew the joke, but I didn't.
I continued to search and ran into my Brother. I was still furious, he said something along the lines of "You should see the bruise the kid left." but I asked where the kid was now, and he didn't know. I asked if it was possible the kid was still in the hospital, and he agreed that it might be so, but was still not feeling bad. I told him he was a monster (I am sure in different words), and walked away. He didn't seem to care, but I desperately hoped that he would have a change of heart.
I continued to search the party, as the people disappeared and eventually the rooms were empty but I still couldn't find my credit card.
The house was going to be raided by the police soon (drug deals), and the family that was hosting was getting nervous and wanted to be polite but also wanted everyone to leave (or at least fake it). I felt they should get in trouble, take responsibility for their own stuff, and each time I left a room I had that feeling that I knew the joke and they didn't. Eventually we were all in a room, and someone had set up a video that played porn the moment you entered, but I knew there were children wandering around and turned it off (ruining their prank). I gathered a bunch of things, journals and stuff that seemed really helpful, but still couldn't find my credit card. People began asking me for the numbers (to steal from me), and I ignored them. Eventually I gave up, but also realized that it wasn't as big of a deal as I had thought, just disappointing to start over.
A desire to do my job, but forced into limbo, unable to communicate the importance of my moving forward. Caught in a line of others who seem to have patiently accepted their place, given some understanding that I don't seem to have.
A desire to be care free, to have fun, to be a star, without the responsibility or distraction that always pulls me back.
The bully I was furious with that defended himself by hurting others, didn't seem to regret his actions, betraying his values.
A room full of people with a different agenda, none all that helpful, some directly opposed to my achieving what I am hoping to find. Most indifferent.
A credit card... a promised security that I have lost, collecting journals and my voice back, disappointment setting in, but a recognition that I can move forward without it?
A friend reminded me the other day that one way of interpreting dreams is that each part is a part of yourself. What part of me is waiting patiently, and what yearning to move forward? Wants to have fun and be carefree, slide down the hill into stardom, but can't shake the internal, part of me that is a bully and another that stands up against it, part that is searching, another that is indifferent or holding me back.
Dreams are fun.
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