Friday, March 31, 2006

Confessional #2

Artist: Anonymous

I received two more postcards today for my Postcard Confessional project. I'll post one today and the other very soon.

This one is so wonderfully ambiguous that it can take you anywhere. It reminds me of a recurring dream I have of being chased by aliens that are trying to kill me. Just a couple of nights ago, I had this dream again. The aliens were human, or human-like. First they attacked my city with bombs. Then the ground troops came in. They invaded my house. I had just had a baby, a beautiful little thing, so tiny, with rosy skin and lots of black hair. I wrapped the baby in one of those flannel crib blankets, a white one. I tried to hide my baby in my bedroom, my inner sanctum. I tried to keep it safe. In my dream, my bedroom was a dark place, in the center of the house, without windows. What a precious little bundle. The aliens tried to abduct my baby, and they also tried to kill it.

I am remembering now how Eugene O'Neill sealed Long Day's Journey into Night in an envelope and said the play was not to be performed during his lifetime. The play was so personal to him, I believe, so painful, that he didn't want "strangers" crushing it, killing it with critique and endless interpretations. He was hiding his "baby," perhaps, keeping it safe.

Then the dream shifted, and the aliens were snakes. I was being chased by hundreds of snakes.

I mentioned this dream recently on my Esalen Yahoo discussion board. I explained that, although the dream was terrifying, I think it has to do with my creative life. The aliens were trying to abduct and kill my child (my creative work) or perhaps the aliens are critics who would kill my ideas before they are fully formed. The baby in my dream was so lovely, but so vulnerable. I ached at seeing it being handled so roughly by "strangers."

Snakes are important symbols of transformation. Like I told the Esalen group, I fear change, but I crave transformation. It's hard to shed your skin and become reborn. It's hard to die and be reborn again. Now I think of Paula's blog: "I'm Paula. I write. I laugh loud. I have died twice, but was born three times; this is my best life."

I don't know how many times I have died to one thing and awakened to another.

But back to our postcard: we can't stay in our comfort zone when we've made contact with something from beyond, can we? After we've had an encounter.

Please send your postcards to:

Theresa Williams
Dept. of English
Bowling Green State University
Bowling Green, OH 43403


Paula said...

I've dreamt so often of babies, nurturing them, protecting them, and yes, they are always my writing, the writing that needs my care, nurturance, protection. And one specific, important dream where I first figured out the metaphor involved an alien space ship. I don't think it's fair or even possible to interpret the dreams of others, but holy cow, Theresa, as I read your words here I could see it clearly and felt relieved with the follow up that you see and understand what's going on. There is more I want to say here but won't because it involves themes and images that I'm working through in essay form right now and I don't want to mess with the mojo. Let me just thank you for the link and the mention....and suggest to you and to any of your readers who might also see this that it's not a good idea to be comfortable with our comfort zone. We have to push the boundaries of what seems possible--always.

emmapeelDallas said...

"I don't know how many times I have died to one thing and awakened to another." That is so eloquent, and so beautiful. Thank you, Theresa. Thanks too for your kind words. I've been reading all your entries that I'd missed, and I feel refreshed. You give me hope, and that's a wonderful gift.


dreaminglily said...

Interesting... Making me think, you always do. That's why I admire you.


V said...

Theresa, it sure sounds like your interpretation is correct.
The funny thing about dreams are their multi-layers of meaning. Generally, some of the immediate moment is expressed [the day`s stuff], then things that we`ve been pondering. If we`re lucky, or at some unconscious level, feeling courageous, we are presented with more primieval material, things that define our character, and eventually, those things that Jung thought were central to a human`s soul.
I`m always in wonder at your courage.

Erin said...

I don't believe there is life without almost constant rebirth. Thanks for this entry, Theresa! I enjoyed reading it greatly!



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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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