Meditative Prose
Saturday, 16 August 2008
The Earth Clock
Last night I dreamt that I was at my Nan’s house with my family. I looked out the window and there was a huge tornado headed our way. Everybody went down into the basement, but I decided to stay upstairs to watch it. The storm outside got more and more violent as the tornado approached, but I was never scared — just excited. The tornado finally passed over the house and it was like a wind tunnel inside. I was holding onto a pocket door (a kind of sliding door that can be hidden in a wall), and the force of the wind was driving the door back into the wall even as I tried to pull it out. Eventually the storm passed and I went down to the basement to let everyone know I was all right.
Later that night I had another dream that I was at my other grandma’s house, at the top of a hill overlooking the town of West Newton and the Youghiogheny River. I was playing softball in the street with some little kids who didn’t look familiar, but I recognized as cousins nonetheless. Instead of pitching down the street, I was pitching across the street. Unsurprisingly, my little cousin didn’t hit the ball and it went careening down the hill and into the woods. I started bushwhacking down the steep hill in search of the lost softball, and the little kids followed me.
Back in my waking life, Sarah and I are getting ready to move out of the apartment we’ve lived in for more than two years, and into a place of our own. Over these two years, we’ve lived with a total of eight different roommates (six very messy, one moderately messy, and one fairly clean) who have had five full-time dogs and four or five visiting dogs. Of the full-time dogs, two have been mostly well-behaved, two have been loud and destructive, and one has been big, smelly, and inclined to drool.
At work, we are moving into the busiest time of year, and I am transitioning into my new role as Textbook Manager. I didn’t really want this job, but I am trying to look on the bright side: this means a big raise and the opportunity to become a more organized person. Still, if it were up to me, I would have liked to make this transition during a slower time of year. This is what you might call “trial by fire.”
In a month I will have weathered this storm and I’ll be a stronger person for it. Sarah and I will have divested ourselves of lots of excess stuff (books, clothing, junk) and we’ll be thriving in our new apartment. I’ll be hitting my stride in my new job. A month after that, I’ll be back in Pennsylvania for my big brother’s wedding. The leaves will be turning and I’ll get that familiar feeling of peace, as I do each Fall.
I wish I could skip ahead two months. But right now I’m looking out the window, and the storm is coming. This time I desperately want to run down to the basement and wait for it to pass, but I know I have to face it bravely — if only so I can say, “I survived.”
