Half-baked Dream Analysis

Last night I escaped a totalitarian country as part of a stream of outgoing emigrés. I was faced with the option of taking the train to England, but through waiting discovered I could board a carriage to Wales. I had a boyfriend on my escape journey, a sturdy presence, as smart as me, who outmanouvred the vigilant guards as craftily as me. We hid clear candy wrappers in the sleeves of our dark clothes. We were in Europe, or perhaps simply "south."

My boyfriend wasn't there - somewhere between waiting for the train to England and dodging it in favour of Wales, he would not be part of my journey. I still thought about him. But I would face the oranges, yellows and greens of the UK alone. 

The totalitarian space was gray, like climbing up a slide - it has been easy to descend. 

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Given that my former girlfriend was from Wales, and very proud to be out, I consider "going to Wales" as a worldview shift, pro-queerness. 

Who knows what that original dark, gloomy totalitarian space was about. My childhood? And yet it seems I can't escape my upbringing, which impedes my kaleidoscopic vision as readily as it can. My mum is someone from who both help and harm originates. The harm is perhaps most pronounced in her denial of my queerness. She won't even talk about her dispute with my sexual identity. No doubt she fervently wishes I could 'revert' to some generic heterosexual mode that never was and never will be. 

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Little Bit out of the Way

I saw the world today, gave it a good shake. In the land of the conscious, we Sundayed into a place called Little Bay, a semi-secluded community with a certain industrially decorated charm. Yawning golf courses intruded on our paths, but we sashayed just shy of the sand and found shimmering jewels trapped in the sea. Guarded by extravagant green, the path was too tight to linger long, but we committed the moment to memory. Those mobile snaps won't hurt with evocation of detail. 

Work through your Emotions

Sometimes I can sense that I need to catch up in terms of taking responsibility for my emotions. Sometimes I wonder how deeply I should take writing. I know that if I were not on drugs, I would be applying myself ardently in order to summon the Money Gods. Also, because it's rewarding emotionally. But mostly I'm happy to avoid my god-given talents as part of my ongoing eff yoo to the world. (The eff yoo doesn't apply to the readership of this blog.)