Maybe Dreaming is My Art, She Said

I stopped for a moment as I realized what I had done. Or, not done, for that matter. Usually, I would hold the door open for someone in the parking lot who wanted to enter the apartment. However, I was running from zombies, so I decided that was an okay reason for this minor slip of courtesy. Unfortunately, the man will never know this. 

I made my way along the Waterfront Trail until it met up with Ganatchio Trail, and followed it instead. I went further than I normally do as it was an exceptionally nice evening and there was plenty of time before the sun would set. I then strayed off the paved path and took a small trail leading into the forest. I was not sure where I was going as I chose a direction at each fork, but I was sure that I would find my way back. I came to a dirt-covered clearing with a few logs and sat down. I watched the sun move farther west in the sky, filtering down through the trees. Poplar tree fluff was floating in the air and covering the ground, much like snow. 

Getting up and wandering again, I seemed to have chosen the right paths to lead me back to the paved trail, without even having to exert much effort or pull out the GPS on my phone. I even managed to find my way onto Wyandotte, without a second thought. My sense of direction is a fascinating thing. 

I am not a morning person, I tell myself and anyone who asks. But maybe that is exactly what I am and I just did not want to admit it. When I look back at the weeks and months that I could not fall asleep, I am afraid that I might have done that to myself; staying up all night to read a book or talk to someone and then sleeping all day, repeating this pattern until I couldn’t sleep even if I tried.

But it is nice to stay up until the morning, I would reassure myself. Then I would complain about my ensuing insomnia and would take Gravol every once in awhile - enough to make me sleep but not enough to make me dependent, to form some sort of addiction.

And after almost two months of being here, in this new place, by myself, there were only a few nights where I could not sleep. Isn’t it usually the opposite, when you move somewhere new? You can’t sleep because there are different sounds and different people and you haven’t quite gotten used to everything yet? 

Maybe sleep found me because even though I was in a new place, my bed and sheets and comforter were familiar. Or maybe sleep was just making up for all the nights it has abandoned me in the last two years. Whatever the reason, I am not going to complain. I just hope that I haven’t jinxed anything.

This weekend was quite a strange one: I managed to stay up until almost 1am (which is somewhat of a miracle because I’ve been falling asleep at 9:30) but then every day since Saturday, I’ve been waking up earlier and earlier;
Saturday: sometime around 8
Sunday: ten to 7
Monday: 6:30

Of course I made myself fall back asleep on all three occasions, but the sleep was interrupted. It wasn’t the distressing kind of interrupted sleep that sometimes occurs, but more hopeful, interspersed with mini dreams. I would wake up, worried that I had slept too long (it must be 12 or 12:30 by now!) only to find that it was only 9  or 9:30 (well, go back to sleep then…it’s still early. Sleep until at least 11). And so I found myself being drawn in by the dreams that made less sense than usual, because sometimes much prefer dreams to reality.  

The half-moon glowed in the dark blue sky as I passed by a black cat in a field, and the sounds of fireworks and sparklers filled the air. The sun was no longer visible, save for its light reflected in the red and pink tinged clouds. By now, most of the foot traffic had disappeared back into their homes, except for a few joggers and dog-walkers. I made my way down Clover Street to Stop 26, an ice cream parlour. I ordered a single serving of Caramel Coconut Crunch and as my feet grew tired on the way back, I continued on, catching rare glimpses of red and white sparks through the trees.

I’m not even sure where the time is going anymore, how can it possibly be the seventeenth of May? Work started last Wednesday and the following has been my schedule since Monday:

6am - Wake up, eat breakfast, put on terrible uniform and sunscreen 
6:30am - Leave
7am - Start work
9:30-ish am - Break
11:30am - Lunch
3pm - Go home, semi-nap
6pm - Become alive again
8pm - Wonder where the evening went, have dinner
9:30pm - Fall asleep 
6am - Wake up …

Hmm, I guess that’s not very descriptive. I’m thinking of writing tiny stories about interesting things I’ve encountered so far. I’ll see how that goes. 

I didn’t think that today would be exceptionally amazing…but that’s how these wonderful days work, doesn’t it? You don’t plan for them and, to be honest, you don’t even dream about them. Somehow the world aligns and everything just works out. 

I did not want to wake up at 6:30 this morning (nor do i want to wake up at 6:30 any morning, but that is besides the point), but the sun was already up and it was a beautiful day so I ate breakfast and got ready to go to my “Commercial Defensive Driving” training so I can work for Parks this summer with the City of Windsor (which is basically just Driver’s Ed all over again with less videos and only one quiz). 

The training was held at the South Windsor Recreation Complex (aka the arena near where I used to live and would frequently pass on my way to high school) so the day was already filled with nostalgia. Two girls that I went to high school with happened to be at the training and although we were never close, it was nice to see someone familiar so I sat with them and we talked and they made me realize that in the grand scheme of life, it doesn’t really matter that I never went to prom and messed up the later half of my last year of high school (not in the academic sense). 

Somehow, it all works out. 
Like today. Today was just great. 
Especially the hour from 12pm to 1pm. I never knew one hour could be so amazing, and yet it was. 

And that’s all I’ll say about today, however I do have some pictures that I’ll upload tomorrow from the trail I re-explored today at Oakwood Park.

Some days, the words just never come out right. I am thankful for the backspace button.

I have found that during the middle of the night, everything always seems more possible. Things that would be considered crazy or insane when the sun is high overhead are perfectly ordinary when the moon is up and the stars are out. I feel braver, less afraid, thoughtful, and slightly delirious from lack of sleep. As the sun sets, the world begins to take on a surreal quality, almost as if magic filled the air.

Of course, this is not every night. Some nights (which is a brilliant song by fun. that you should listen to if you haven’t already. and if you have…well go listen to it again as half of the lyrics apply to me/this post)…actually make that most nights, are dull as I wait for something, anything interesting to happen. Usually it never does. So I sit in my room and read or think about life; what could have been, what was, and what will probably never come to pass. And then I drift off to sleep, alone.

But on these wondrous, fearless nights, anything can happen. I remember one night, it must have been almost a year ago now, when I was talking to a friend (I’m not sure if the word “friend” is to describe them, all the good things and the bad things, mostly due to me, that happened…but when is “friend” every really an adequate term to describe the various relationships that we have with the people who are, or were, closest do us?) from Ottawa on MSN (and it is such a shame that MSN technically no longer exists. It is so much better to talk to people on than Skype). I don’t remember what the exact time was, but it must have been close to 1 or 1:30 in the morning, which, if you know me an my insomniac streaks, is quite early. To be honest, I don’t even remember what we were talking about before, but then he told me that for one night only, he would answer my questions. About anything at all - no limits. Intrigued, I started to ask, and let him ask me anything and this continued on for quite a few more nights…until we ran out of questions or the magic wore out, I’ll never know. 

I love learning about people, about all the weird little things that make them who they are. Most of the time though, I refrain from bombarding people with questions, unless I know them extremely well. I never know when to ask the right questions and if I think something is too personal, I don’t bother. This is probably part of the reason why I don’t know that many people very well.

So I thought I would start here. It is less frightening asking people questions on a computer. My proposition:  Let’s have a round of twenty questions. Or twenty-five or fifty. Basically, just inbox or email me a question (email is located on the contact page). I’ll answer it and then send you a question, which you will answer and send me back a question. No limits, but don’t be disrespectful or anything. And if you can, make your questions deep and thought provoking. I mean, I’ll tell you what my favourite colour is (blue) and what colour shirt I’m wearing (can you guess…? it’s blue) but those aren’t very interesting as I am sure there are thousands of people out there right now wearing a blue shirt and, not coincidentally, their favourite colour is also blue. And I am also sure that we may be completely different people. 

I guess I’ll start off with a question. And if you’re reading this, please do respond. Otherwise I’ll feel a little bit like a nutcase sitting here, waiting for replies and questions when no one plans to respond. Be brave. Even though it is very much the middle of the afternoon where I am. And don’t worry, I will not post any answers, unless you want me to.

Q: What would you tell a younger you, now that you know more about the world?