Jena

last night's dreams were of a traveling sort, again. it is not an odd thing at all. i am nomadic at a genetic level i think. anyway, it seemed i was somewhere in europe for a wedding. i think it was france, not paris but somewhere in france where there was a large river heading out to sea. i'm sure who's wedding it was. i don't even remember the bride and groom. the person i remember was something else though.

she was slight of build, had straight blonde hair and almost a perfect oval face. none of her features stood out more than the others, she seemed a model of perfect balance. she reminded me of someone who just stepped out of an early northern renaissance painting. she wore what seemed like an antique dress, lacy and slightly ivory. even her expressions were one of gentle calmness and restraint. i stood in front of her in a dimly lit room with wood panels that seemed they have seen their share of history, old and worn with a patina of a ten thousand touches from long dead hands. this is where it gets kind of strange.

we faced each other, not a single word uttered for a long time then i produced a quill. a calligraphy quill. she stepped closer to me and i leaned my head forward as if to see better. my right hand raised the quill and i looked sharply into her left eye and started to write on her cornea. gently and deftly the quill drew a capital 'J' followed by an 'e' then an 'n' and ended with an 'a'. i stood back and looked at the crimson color of the ink glistening atop the shiny and clear surface of her cornea. i was confused and then she smiled and the letters faded away. her eye was again the undisturbed deep brown of vietnamese lacquer. its luster and clarity seemed supernatural.

moments later, i tried to write the word again. i was unsure what the word was. was it her name? she still had not uttered a word nor had i. but this time as i wrote the 'J' and then the 'e', the ink dissolved into the liquid pool in front of me. the letter forms assimilated by the liquid walnut iris. what happened next was a little fuzzy. i remember kissing her and she kissed me back. she tasted of fresh picked fruit; somewhere between peaches and something else flowery.

the first words came out of my mouth, "come with me."

"i can't. i can't come with you," with no emotion in her clear voice.

"why?"

"i just can't, you wouldn't understand."

the next thing i knew i was looking from outside of my body. i didn't let go of her. i held her arms as if we were still standing there but we were falling away from me. and what lay below us as we started to spiral was not some abyss but the pages of an old open book. we seemed smaller as we fell away as it it were a black hole though and then abruptly, the book closed and i woke up.
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so any takers want to analyze this one? ;-)

awareness of confusion [or lack thereof]

sometimes it is through the musings of another or the awareness of their suffering that you are awakened to your own ability for compassion and survival that sometimes gets lost because you are too much in your own mind, unaware of your surroundings and others around you. sometimes unawareness sticks to me like glue. how strange is it to have something to apparent and not pay attention? and how ineffectual you can be to provide any comfort to them...

i have a friend who is ill and in the hospital. in the last several days, i've found myself incapable of offering any comfort. this disturbs me. even though i know there is really not much i can do except to reassure her she isn't alone or forgotten, it doesn't seem enough.

i don't know where i'm going with this. perhaps i just needed to air my confusion and sense of helplessness...perhaps if i let it out it will fly away and something will present itself...