For Keeps

I suppose
the reason we
can't have it all

is that then
we would have heaven
on earth

but

why

is that

a bad thing?

---

I have spent several weeks wondering if it's my fault. Did I want this too much? Would he not have been able to keep up with me? Would we have fallen apart? All because I wanted this so much?

I would have given all of it up to keep him.

No More Kisses

His kisses were the kind that swept you up and held you close.

He kissed me on the forehead - a favorite spot.

It spoke volumes about his tenderness, his gentle love.

He kissed me on the cheek - another favorite spot.

It spoke to the childlike innocence of our relationship, the delight and wonder and happiness that was love.

He kissed me on the lips - and there was something magical in those kisses. They resulted in a loss of balance. Every time.

I treasure them all.

But I think it's cruel that there will never be another kiss between us.

To think about all the kisses we could have shared, would have shared...

It breaks my heart.

Because I loved every single one of his kisses.

Europe

Last night I dreamed I was in Europe (Looked like Paris but I think it was London), walking through the streets. I helped John and Sherlock solve a case and then went to find something to much on. I ran into Dr. Blewett, who was living alone in a tiny room. He looked like he was going crazy. I think his wife had died and he'd been slowly driven mad with grief. I got him to come with me to eat at the...something about a Hen tavern (I can't recollect what it was, something like The Laying Hen or some such) but he wouldn't stay with me in my flat, but he didn't want to be alone, so he was living in the city. It was so sad.

Then I took to the streets again, and this time, I looked over, and there was Stu. In one of his favorite blue shirts. And he was much younger, probably in his early 20's, or even late teens. He just smiled a big smile at me, and we walked so close that I could feel his arm brush up against mine.

And we were perfectly happy.

I Had To Save Them

Last night's dream was so real that I felt things. I have these dreams occasionally -- where I feel the fabric of what I'm wearing, or the weight of something in my hand, or the physical activity like running or swimming. They always creep me out because they're so real.

I dreamed last night that I was at the ocean. It was nighttime, and the moon had risen over the water. There was a house at the beach, and a long wall to the side. I was running to avoid a large group of...

vampire zombies.

And they had been good people -- Prince Edmund, Queen Lucy, and friends I had known. I didn't want to hurt them, so I ran. I ran until I got to the ocean, which they were loathe to wade into.

One of my friends (a guy friend, but I'm not sure which one) told me that we had a chance to save them. It would be difficult, but it could be done. I had to ignore the ghosts of those already gone, and I had to do what I was told no matter how crazy it sounded.

We ran to the house and put more clothes on -- protection against the cold wind and water, and hopefully, bites. I grabbed a light blue terrycloth robe. The sleeves were tight on my arms. I felt the softness and thickness of the robe.

Then I was handed a sword (a plastic one) and a lance (a real one -- long, black, and sharp). We had to fight them.

I stood out in the shallow water, feeling the slap of it against my legs as the sound roared in my ears. One of my friends approached me. She was almost gone, completely transformed into a monster. She had a massive axe, a real one. I knew I didn't stand much of a chance, but I had to save her.

I evaded for a few moments but then got angry at how horrible this all was. I got a jab in with the lance and winced as the blood started dripping. She swung her axe and I leapt under it, grabbing her legs and taking her down.

Somehow, she returned to herself and begged me to save Edmund. Of course, we couldn't let the zombie vampires know our plan so we had to pretend like she was dead, and that meant that he was in a rage because I'd killed his sister.

I got a bigger, real sword this time. Edward wasn't going to go down without a real fight. I went back to the house where my friend gave me a huge bouquet of pink roses. Edward barged in and I just barely managed to hide her - I handed her the bouquet and she held it up in front of her face.

Edward and squared off outside again, this time in deeper water, up close to my knees. The vampire zombies were weakened somewhat in water.

Edward and I clashed. I was careful to keep away from his teeth, and he was careful of the lance I held in my left hand. I got fed up again and went berserk, toppling him.

With those two saved, I entered a large building to somehow save the rest of them. There was an enormous, wide brown marble staircase, like the inside of a bank, and there were ghosts rushing here and there.

I was told to ignore whatever they said - they'd just be trying to dissuade me from what I was doing.

And then Stu turned the corner.

He was wearing one of his favorite blue shirts. He smiled a big smile and came down the steps to me, talking like we'd been apart for a few days and had a lot to catch up on. My heart shattered, again. Was he a ghost? I couldn't listen to him. I couldn't stay. I couldn't let him dissuade me from saving the others.

I cried out, I was in so much pain. He was so real.

I don't remember what happened, but I couldn't let him go. I think I grabbed his hand and raced on to where I was supposed to be, and somehow, I think I managed to save everyone that I could.

Then I woke up.

Ripped Away

Two nights ago I dreamed that I had Stu in my arms and I was kissing him, kissing him so that he knew how much I had missed him.

Then a strong wind started blowing and we were ripped apart. I screamed.

Then I woke up.

Something More

I believe, even though I ridicule* myself for the belief, that I was meant for more than this. I'm not talking about award ceremonies, or Beverly Hills, or all that, but I am talking about doing something valuable with my life. Something I'm passionate about. Something that takes me outside of myself and lets me share incredible stories with other people.

I think I've always felt that way. No self-criticism (or well-meaning laughter or advice) can quash it, although there have been times I've thought that belief had finally been laid to rest.

Whenever I see a movie where someone experiences this feeling, I resonate with it. I understand that longing to do something more with life than settle into a routine like thousands of others (I am by no means saying that a quiet life isn't valuable. I think it is. But when you have something out of the ordinary to offer, or you know that your gifts aren't the usual set, to let yourself slide into a life you were not meant to live is wrong and it will end up hurting or even killing you).

Here, then, are five scenes/songs that have spurred me on, despite the doubt.

Belle (Reprise): From my favorite movie. I saw this at five years old and have never forgotten the feeling of soaring as Belle runs into her backyard and you see the beauty of her world. "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere, I want it more than I can tell..."

Part Of Your World: I am aware that Disney is responsible for encouraging my big dreams. I regret nothing. The image of her reaching through the rock toward a new world seared itself inside me at a very early age. "...wish I could be part of that world."

Something Better: Never mind my absolute love of everything ships and pirates (and inns), Jim Hawkins voices my own worries about my future and my hope for something better. "And I know this life I'm living can't be my destiny...there's gotta be something better, something better, there's gotta be something better than this for me!"

[From Rango] This is more of a...reminder to me. That this gift isn't just for me. It is meant to be shared. "Don't you see? It's not about you. It's about them."

Go The Distance: Yup. Another Disney. Although I didn't see Hercules until last week, I have played this song, singing it to myself, for over a dozen years. It's a promise to myself. I can go the distance.


What about you? How do you retain the determination to keep going?

Movie Moment

Movies and television speak to me in a way that no other medium can. The visual elements twined with music lift me to a place I couldn't go otherwise. A place that, oddly, is quite spiritual, emotional, and more real.

Yesterday I went to see Man of Steel again. I didn't like it the first time (too many jumps backward and forward) but realized I wasn't in the proper mood for it when it was first released, so I decided to give it another go.

I'm so glad I did.

Much better the second time, and only two little quirks I wish had been changed.

But that's not the point.

The point is that I experienced that rare moment of spiritual connection, that enigmatic outside presence dipping into my reality for just a moment.

Superman is standing by Lois, ready to give himself up to the Kryptonians to protect Earth.

"Thank you for believing in me," he says.

"It didn't matter in the end," says Lois, sure that she's losing him.

"It mattered to me," says Superman.

I cried.

It felt so much like the something Stu and I shared. I recognized his intelligence, his dazzling genius at telling stories. I believed in him. And I regret so much that he was never able to share that gift with the world.

But I felt like he was speaking to me through that exchange. And I am comforted.

I hope we get to talk about the movie some day. He was really looking forward to it. It was his dream cast, and he watched that trailer over and over and over again.

I always told him he was built like Superman (I even wrote a nerdy love song about it).

Stu was my Superman. And his symbol is hope.

Honk the Horn

Two nights ago I dreamed that I was waiting in my dad's truck while he ran into Wal-Mart on a rainy night. I was settled in for a little wait, when I noticed a large man come up to the window. He smiled and took out a tool that I realized he was going to use to get into the truck. I panicked, turning to grab my phone to call 911. I accidentally hit the horn as I tried to find the phone and he started. I realized I had a much faster weapon on my hand and laid on the horn for dear life.

About a dozen black guys came running and the guy decided it wasn't worth his time.

They made sure I was alright and then a couple white dudes came up and thought I'd made up the whole thing.

Watch Repair = Bankable Skill

Last night I dreamed that I received a card from my uncle. He'd sent me a check for $335.00 and an envelope with information about the college he taught at and a plane ticket to a Star Trek event.

I looked at the college info, wondering if I should learn a practical skill (he teaches Rolex watch repair) before going on to acting, and decided maybe instead of flying to Washington next summer, I needed to take a road trip and work my way through the States.

Dreams Drive You Mad

I always do this to myself.

I allow myself to get caught up again and again in a dream and I plot it all out, make lists, draw timelines, imagine it all...

...and then "reality" hits and I think, "how could that possibly happen?" and suddenly all I can see are the things in my way. Finances. Things I'm unable to do. Big what ifs. Impossibilities.

Then I try to convince myself that I could still make it work.

And I keep fighting.

Until I can't fight anymore.

And I put the tattered dream to rest.

It keeps resurrecting. It never dies.

And I always feel like I'm one step closer.

But today...

Today I think about how I'm going to have to do this alone. Somehow scrounge up money. Learn to drive. Somehow get a ticket and go into auditions. All the stuff I need to do to prepare. And there's that niggling little voice in the back of my head that laughs at me for my dream and points out all the reasons it won't work.

I'm not limber enough. I don't think quick on my feet. I don't have a great voice or body or face. It's hard for me to even process my own feelings.

What if I'm just setting myself up for failure?

Deep down I know I'm afraid.

I know what happens when you get what you want.

Something else has to be taken away.

There aren't such things as happy endings.

If I get this shot at happiness and magically am able to do what I want...I have to do it alone. There won't be anyone to hold my hand.

But even deeper down, I know there's nothing else in the world that can make me happy.

I will go mad if I can't at least try.

Home

I have never felt
about places
the way I felt
about you.

You
were the warmth,
the love,
and the safety
I had been seeking.

You were home
and now
I'm homeless.



---

A friend asked me the other day if I considered a certain place my home. I thought leaving the apartment where I'd lived the last 2 years would be difficult. It wasn't. I thought about all the places I'd lived: various cities in South Carolina and Tennessee; Wyoming, Florida, North Carolina, Spain...Spain, or the Spain I experienced in 9th grade, was the closest I could come to feeling like I belonged somewhere. But it ceased to be that when I had to move. Coming back is different and nothing is ever the same. It stops being a place you belong when you can't grow there.

I realized (and have been realizing) that places aren't "home" for me. Buildings, furniture, cities, countries...none of those are home for me. I've had to uproot, uproot, uproot all my life. You get tired of putting down roots.

When I married Stu, I made a decision. I hardly ever make decisions. I let things happen to me. I go with the flow. I adjust, no matter how terrible it is. And I'm not a risk taker. But I knew I was taking a gigantic risk in marrying him.

But I didn't care because I knew we loved each other. And I also knew that this kind of love does not come often and I had to grab it, even if I only had a little time to hold it.

Stu was home for me. He was a safe place, a haven, a place I could rest, someone I could talk to about anything, everything, or nothing. He was warm, kind and gentle. He loved me.

When I think about home, I think about his hugs.

I think about cuddling with him on the couch.

I think about holding his hand in the car.

I think about him kissing my forehead.

(I hope he thought of me as home. I tried to be one for him, too.)


...I don't understand why I only got to experience a home for 4 1/2 years.

I don't understand why I am now homeless.

I don't understand.

Why?

All I can manage
to scream
is "WHY?"

Why did such a
beautiful person
get so short
a time
here?

Why did we
have to say
goodbye?

My insides
are dark,
there is
no light

Only stone
for a heart
pinning me
to earth.

I cannot break
gravity's grip,
I strain against
the earth's pull

Like a bird
whose wings
are pinned
by cruel hands.

Why?
Why, why, why?
Each question
like a wave

Beating the shore
But
there is no answer
no answer, no answer.

I can't live like this
I can't live
What's the point?
He's not here.

We've got it
backwards.
We are born dying
And when we
go,

That is when
life really begins.
I want that life
This one's a poisonous lie.

Life is short.
Tragic.
Pain filled.
Wretched.

I hate the thought
of growing old
And going on
alone.

Nothing matters
anymore.
Why should it?
He's gone.

All meaning
has crumbled,
decayed,
into emptiness.

Old statues,
stone barely held
together
by molecules.

I hate existence.
There is no point
in this
pain.

It takes
everything
to breathe
once.

Must I do it
again and again
until it's my time
to break free?

I just want his arms
around me
again and forever.
Why was that too much to ask?