House Shows, Train Rides, and Playgrounds

Normally I don't like to preface my dreams because I find that it's more fun for the reader that way but I feel like this one was kind of special. It's been about a week or so since I had it and I still keep coming back to it. It was a particularly colorful and adventurous dream; it perfectly embodied the spirit of all of the things I think I'm really about. The way I felt in the dream was nice; I felt like myself. That would be the self that goes on amazing solo adventures, meets a lot of new people, takes photographs, and feels an odd sense of peace and belonging in chasing something she can't really define. I falter at decision-making when it comes to nearly everything else because I'm never quite sure what I want or what I think or what's right.......but this thing that I am chasing and finding through music is something that feels more true than anything else. That's my calling. Not doing it is like going against my nature but yet here I am, not doing it for the sake of society and practicality. Are degrees and jobs and money really more important...?

There were three distinct parts to this dream: house show, train, & playground.

I was at a house show in the suburbs. The house was big and old with wood floors and a stair case that creaked when you walked on it. There were lots of art school-looking kids hanging around and drinking. The living room was dimly lit and there was a big oval-shaped rug on the floor. Kids were sitting on the floor listening to someone playing the guitar on the couch. The musician was a weird mix of Drew Danburry and Herman Dune.

After the show, the musician asked me to travel with him and I was so pleased I could have cried.

We sat on the ground in a large echo-y train station which resembled a Metro station in DC. We talked about our lives and I asked him about his wife. I think he said something like, "Yeah, she's there."

The train came. It was deep green lined with gold; very beautiful. The compartment meant for the musician and I was at the very end of the the train. It was tiny and consisted of two benches attached to the wall and a table between them. No room for anything else. I remember the benches being incredibly high and the musician had to help me up. We boarded the train from the right side and I sat on the left with my back to the end of the train.

The train pulled out and the musician and I made more small talk. I eventually fell asleep with my head on the table.

I awoke to feel a breeze. The musician was gone but the train was still moving along. The window was open and outside everything was beautiful and warm. I stuck my head out the window, closed my eyes for a moment, and smiled.

The sky was bright blue with a few fluffy white clouds and the sun was shining. There were miles of bright green fields; some of grass, some with great stalks of corn. In the distance was a clear and colorful city and giant windmills turning in the breeze. Everything was presented in layers of gently rolling hills. It was the most beautiful thing I'd every seen.

This was supposed to be Europe but I knew that it was a new sort of Europe. It was somebody's sustainable "green" vision of Europe. It was the future.

I stood of the little back balcony of the train and enjoyed the breeze until the train came to a halt in the middle of a corn field. From there I could see a playground in the distance and further, a city.

I was standing at the foot of a colorful piece of playground equipment. The metal bars, platforms, and slides were all shiny and painted bright shades of yellow, red, blue, and green. There were small children running around me and parents sitting on benches. Kids were laughing and playing and it just made me really happy. We were surround by corn on three sides and on the forth side was a grassy plain which showed the city in the distance. It was a large and colorful city; everything was in beautiful bright colors rather than drab shades of black and brown. The city matched the playground. I just stood there in the middle of things and looked around. I felt a sense of belonging in the fact that I didn't belong at all. That was exactly where I was supposed to be even though I was an outsider.

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I think one of my favorite things in the world is when my practical and impractical worlds converge. I'm unsure of how else to express that; it's like I live two lives and sometimes one takes up more time than the other but they're both my life even though they're generally really separate. Examples of convergence would be taking Kristin to see shows even though she's someone I met through the honor society at LFCC or going to see Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin when I was at a conference in Seattle. I've always kind of wanted my show/music/photography/travel life to be a part of my education/work/family/day-to-day life but it seldom is. Convergence makes me giddy even if it's just someone making a comment about the band on my hoodie.

This year I made a promise to myself that I would go on a mission trip over spring break with LCM because I've never done anything like that before and I feel like it would be good for me. The trip was announced and I signed up; I'm going to Jacksonville, FL to do something with leftover crops. I honestly didn't think to look for shows because I was trying to be pure about this; this is about helping others, not me. The other day I happened to look at Casper and the Cookies' myspace page and lo and behold, they're playing Jacksonville the week that I'll be there. When I saw that, I was so happy I almost cried. Really. I almost cried. There is just so much joy involved in seeing the musicians I know and love as part of the other half of my life. You know, if Mason booked a band I know and love for an event here I probably would cry from happiness.

It's almost March and I've gone to a measly three shows. That's not enough adventure for me. I need more house shows, train rides, and playgrounds in my life.