The night was not one of my best: I woke at least three times, and there was a point around four AM when I didn’t know if I was falling back into sleep or not, and I considered getting up and doing something. Which isn’t the best thing to do when you’re not able to sleep, because it makes for a very long day if you never sleep from that point on.
There were some disturbing dreams during the sleepy time moments, too. These days most of my dreams see to revolve around rejection and loneliness. I was getting that last night here and there; people just didn’t want to be around me, and dismissed my creative efforts. It was quite off-putting, and there are times when I don’t want to dream because I’m tired of what awaits me on the other side of the curtain of dreams.
A long time ago in a high school far, far away, I took an acting class. I was a bit of a puzzle for my instructor, because most people in the class thought I was one of the best when it came to acting (notice I didn’t say ACTING! because that stuff ain’t for me), but for the life of me I couldn’t memorize my lines worth a damn. Part of the problem was not being able to work with other people to get my lines down: I was always at home, always alone, unable to hook up with the people who may have been able to help, and I was just too much of a mess to develop the discipline to get this stuff right.
I can still remember the first thing I did in front of the class: it was a scene from Blithe Spirit, and I was acting opposite the ghost Elvira–well, the person playing her. I managed to get half way through the scene, and then the brain locked up. I couldn’t remember a single line. The teacher sort of ripped into me for not bring prepared, and the girl I was acting opposite was mad because she had her part down cold and I ended up making her look bad.
Yeah, Elvira wasn’t happy with me, which sort of paralleled the plot of the story. What a surprise, right?
You’re looking a little green, Elvira. Maybe you should go lay down.
My sucking at acting literally coincided with my sucking at my first attempt at writing. At least I kept trying the writing thing–and, let’s remember, giving it up as well–until I finally got good with myself and found I didn’t really suck all that much, but there still seems to be something going on in my subconscious that is keeping me from getting relaxed with this creativity thing. The deeper I’ve ventured into The Foundation Chronicles, the more the dreams of, “You suck, you’re a failure, you’ll never amount to anything, shun the loser–Shuuuuuunnnnnnnnnn,” keep coming like an iTunes playlist on repeat.
Though there was a slight change in the tune this morning . . .
Yesterday, in the afternoon and before heading off to bed, I was working out a couple of scenes in my head. I call them the Presents scenes, because that’s what they are about; one has a panicked Kerry beseeching Nurse Coraline and Professor Sladen to help him with getting a present for Annie’s rapidly approaching birthday, because he’s an eleven year old boy who knows nothing about what to get girls, particularly for one who a few weeks before told him she’d loved him all her life. The other scene takes place after the kids return from Yule holiday, and Annie gives Kerry a belated Christmas present.
They’re sweet scenes, and both will appear in Act Two. I was playing them out now because I’m bored, there’s nothing to do, and like I said yesterday, I’m always thinking about my stories even when I’m not writing.
On to the next part of this tale . . . During my four AM wake up I lay in bed hoping to fall back to sleep, and during this time I thought a little about the gifts Annie and Kerry give each other. I thought about how they would feel receiving them, how they both added little touches to make them more personal . . . all sweet little touches that add to the characters.
I did drift back into dreams, and for a while I was feeling a little of the old sensation of being alone and somewhat unwanted. Then someone started looking through a box I was carrying. They found something I’d written, and they slowly read it over, turned to me, and said, “I would love to format this on a large square and hang it up for all to see–” The person who was saying this broke into a huge smile. ”This is brilliant–simply brilliant. You should be proud.”
I know what writing they were talking about: it was the scene where Kerry gives Annie her birthday present. And I know who the person was telling me to be proud of my work–it was someone I know, but whom I haven’t seen or spoken with in a while. Even though it was a dream, I needed to hear those words, and I needed to hear them from her.
Even if it was a dream, so often we require validation from those whom we respect and cherish. It doesn’t always happen, but when it comes you feel as if you’re dancing upon a cloud and nothing bad will ever happen to you again. The doubt can keep tormenting you like a nasty spirit–but you also have to remember that the spirit may be tormenting you because it remembers all the great moments you shared, and it wants you back by its side. It’s not tormenting you out of spite: it’s doing so out of love.
You’ll never lose this spirit completely, so make the best of the future to come. And try to convince that spirit that, yes, you do have your brilliant moments.
Maybe then she’ll send you off to wonderful dreams with a kiss.