Last night I woke up numerous times for numerous reasons. Once the moon shone right into the room. It was one of those insanely strong moonshines brewed by a redneck stuck somewhere in the sky. Everything was lit up, white and clear. The bars on the window broke the light into different countries, square and rectangular borders of white that allowed none of their citizens interaction. The light reached all the way to the other side of the room and I considered drawing the curtains because I thought I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep with so much light in my room.
There’s a line sometimes between dreams and wakefulness. It’s not completely distinct, it’s not a line that keeps things in place instead it’s a kind of shimmering. Somewhere that things are exchanged and fly between each other reminding us that the dream world and this one are relatives of a sort. This has been happening to me a lot. It’s not just the moon that wakes me up, sometimes I need to pee and I half wake up, half dream. It’s a lazy dream, well they are all lazy but what I mean is I am not completely into it. Half of me wants to give over to the dream and the other half wants to wake up and walk to the toilet. Then I lie in bed in conflict occupying this no-man’s land between dreams and wake. Until I finally get up and then I can go back to sleep completely. Sometimes I am woken up by a radio or by a sound. Not immediately shaken awake but transported to that land slowly and softly. The music I am listening to begins to accompany the dreams I have or maybe it’s that the dreams I have are moulding themselves to the music I am listening to. There is a soundtrack overlay to what I see, suddenly it’s not just what I was dreaming about but sometimes the lyrics find their way in. they speak to my mind and demand a visual release. There are songs I can remember seeing, not hearing but actually seeing unfold. These are usually songs with stories in them and instead of hearing the lyrics to the song I see actors act out what’s happening.
There’s also a thin line that separates a year from a another. I like to have it more defined; I try to finish all the books I am reading in that year. I try to finish all the TV shows but it doesn’t always work and then it’s a new year. I stopped expecting much from them. There’s no opening up of the sky when the year makes a turn, there’s no magical impetus to change into someone new. I still believe in them though. This invisible line where nothing changes and nothing matters on one side or the other can be infused with so much meaning that it matters. I see it like the equator. This is not even a line in the ground. My high school had the equator pass through it and you couldn’t see it. There was nothing there. But you could feel its effects, the way water turns one way on one side and another way on the other. The way it falls straight down when poured down the middle. The thing about the New Year’s is that it gives us all those things humans need in their myths. The three r’s. Redemption, Resurrection and Reinvention. A chance to become something new and better. To put off the clothes that became your character that became you last year. To tear off the skin that sticks so close you can hardly breathe and fashion for yourself a new costume, a new you. Suddenly just because the date changed it feels like so can you. 12 wasn’t great for you well 13 can be a lucky number.
There was a song I used to love when I was younger; this photograph is proof by Taking Back Sunday. It had this beautiful lyric about a certain line in a relationship, “it’s never bad enough to just leave or give up but it’s never good enough to feel right.” This is something that applies to so many areas of life it’s ridiculous. That moment of melancholy. Not even melancholy because at least that’s a feeling. This instead speaks to a certain unease. An unease we have all felt, one that comes with the taste of compromise. The feeling of no one being happy. When we aren’t alive enough to be tasting the air or to be gulping the water or to be loving the world at the same time it’s not a black feeling. We aren’t at that point in life where shit is fucked up. In fact it’s ok. It’s that moment when you answer questions about how things are going by saying you can’t complain. It is true that you can’t complain. There’s really nothing to complain about your life is on a plateau and if you keep walking you will end up somewhere. However it doesn’t have the promise of walking up a mountain which is difficult, it’s filled with scratches and falls. Your palm hurts, your knees ache, your thighs scream bloody murder but you take a deep breath of air and look around you and it’s good enough to feel right. Or you could be walking into a valley. It’s filled with darkness and uncertainty. All the steps you take are about stopping yourself from going down too far too fast but at the same time there’s a feeling of anticipation. Your heart hammers in your throat, your neck throbs with expectation and excitement and in your deepest fears you feel alive. If it gets much worse though it is bad enough to leave or give up. The middle line though is easy to settle into. It’s easy to live there.
Therefore I do have a new year’s resolution. It was recently brought to my attention that I use the word am instead of the words I am or I’m. I’m going to change that. It’s one of those things, one of those small things, it’s never bad enough to just leave or give up but it’s never good enough to feel right. This year I want things to feel right.