I have been thinking

I do think.

I was thinking earlier how frustrating it is that no one quite gets your dreams like you do. The problem herein lies within the content of the dreams themselves! Dreams are really quite silly in the waken world, and it’s the emotion within them which impacts us so greatly. Humans really have a great capacity for emotions. I often wonder if we could wake up from our circumstances like we wake up from our dreams if we would suddenly realize how silly we’re being and that it’s really not worth all the emotion.

Yesterday morning after awakening from an admittedly silly dream, Adam asked me what it was about. I began to explain to him how this family of cats had pretended to be our little siblings for our whole lives and how their dad had pretended to be my little brother this whole time and now I find out we’re not even related! As soon as I began to explain it I realized how incredibly silly it was, but even now, days later, looking back, I can still feel how frustrated I was that they were pretending. They were legit cats who walked only on their hind feet and wore jackets and hats. Totally legit. You can see why I thought they were my brothers, and you can imagine why I felt so betrayed when my mom told me in my dream that she would never lie to me about anything and she would never hurt me. But she did! Oh my goodness, I can see the ridiculousness of the situation. However, Adam told me he could see how passionate I still felt about it, even though I knew how incredibly silly it was in my woken state. Dreams really do have such an affect, and I wonder at them. It’s so fascinating.

I have dreams a lot. My most recurring dream of my entire life is stage dreams. My whole family has had them, and I’ve talked to other musicians who have too, and the crazy thing is, they never work out! I have never, in my life, had a dream about being on stage and something didn’t go horribly and irrevocably wrong. Normally I can’t get to the stage, either my bow hairs are all broken, or I can’t find my clothes, or Dad parked out in the field and it’s so muddy that we literally have our feet stuck in mud trying to get to the building. I have had so many stage dreams in the past few weeks, almost every night, and I’ve been off tour for 4 months. It’s crazy.

I realize that most of my blog posts are about sleeping; things you dream about, things you do in your sleep. People might not care so much about this, and I apologize if I bore you. However, you really can only be fascinated with what you’re fascinated with. I’m not sure you can fake fascination, I know I cannot.

As a child I was liked much more by strangers than people who knew me. My brother once introduced me on stage as ‘one of those people who have lots of best friends but no friends’. At the time I was quite offended by this description, mostly because I feared it was true, also because I didn’t understand why he said it. I’ve found that the most awful things to hear about yourself are things you suspect to be very true. I’ve thought about that description quite a bit through the years and I’ve found where his point lies. (Emmett rarely speaks anything but that which is very true.) Strangers like me more than my friends. I think I have a complex about it. It’s fine because we all have failings, but I wonder who those strangers are now and if they remember me as a little kid sitting down with them for an hour and telling them all about my 4 year old life. They probably get together for Christmas and one of their stories is ‘Remember when we went to Branson on vacation and that crazy little girl wouldn’t leave us alone?’ I can’t imagine I was all that interesting at that age, but my goodness, I had a lot to share! Probably about my cats and I particularly remember bragging to a poor lady about how I could already talk when I was 2. She assured me that was quite normal.

What do you do when you find out you’re quite normal? I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I’ve always been an unusual person with an unusual lifestyle, and I’m starting to suspect I’m living a normal life. Does that mean I’m normal now or does my previously unusual past make me an exception? I really don’t think so. I think I’m normal. And I’m thinking everyone must be. I’ve never understood the point of when people tell the general public that they’re all special. What does that even mean? If everyone’s special then the normal is special and thus we’re all normal. Why do we have to be so particularly unusual in the first place? Why is so much of mankind in a permanent state of crisis because we can’t find enough affirmation to assure us we’re special? Let’s just all be who we are and excel to who we want to be and be quite contented with that.

That’s what I think. Now you know. Don’t start a conspiracy. I don’t have my apartment wired to explode or lined with firewalls to protect my neighbors. Not yet anyway.