A Dream of Escape

A dream of escape.

Here in the Northeast in America, we are under a cold snap.

Since Christmas, we have been suffering with below zero temperatures and into the predictable future (according to the iPhone).

And then, with or without a cold (which I have), we are essentially trapped indoors.

I've been lucky to have a writing project to take me out of myself.

The BEST vacation I can ever have. 

Muddy Waters

I dream of mud.  Well, I don't dream, but I think of it. Swimming in it. Swimming in shallow ponds, hitting my knees on the muck below.

I think of it as a sensuous delight.  A way to FEEL.  Not just the wet, but the sediment;swimming through the world, in the few places I can.  Knowing it is made up of decaying dinosaurs and leaves and birds and sea monsters. 

I had a dream once of the very shoes that Van Gogh painted.  Dirty and old, farmer's or worker's shoes, and how they were made holy by the strokes of Van Gogh.

The dirt from the grave.  Wipe it from the headstone, but the dirt on your hands is "clean" dirt, innocent dirt.  Isolated from the corpses below, insulated in a cement box, inside which is a wooden box, inside which is a silk lining, and probably all the flowers you laid around his chest, and the knitted wreath that you bought at age 5, when you had no idea you needed to bring money for the fair, and a teach gave you a dollar.  He had no idea it was a Christmas ornament either, and so he put it over his button hole.  To be funny, or to be Jewish, you were never sure.  he is in the movie EXODUS.

Hardy Pond

Every morning, I try to walk by a Pond.  Because I can.

I want to take pictures of everything, all the colors, all the reflections.

I suspect the Pond is only 3 feet deep most of the way across, with lots of water weeds.  And ducks, who are very jealous of their own territory.

Every morning I visit, wanting to escape into the underwater world.  Sometimes its too cold, but I still want to see.

Longest Time Without Swimming

Funny, since I last swam in Walden, I have spent a very long time out of the water.  I used to crave being able to dance freely, without gravity, inside the water.

I miss it, but not enough to brave the cold.  Although it is nice to know I could.

Has it been a month?  I've forgotten to keep track!  That's how long it is!

Nothing Compares to Walden

Sometimes, you have to just admit it, when Walden is around, nothing can come close.

Even in NYC, when the pool is so accessible, there is still the idea of Walden, the open water.  The expansiveness of it.

Chlorine is intolerable!!

(Hopefully until the pool seems warm compared to Walden and a nice alternative!)

An Ocean of Seaweed

It's one thing to swim through ponds, where you know the weeds and can break through the ice and the pond scum like a racetrack.

But the ocean, constantly moving, you are never sure where you are.
The ground moves beneath you.

Terrifying.

The Impotence of Rage

And the guy who worked so hard to get her there, in the moment.  There she was, although she wasn't afraid of being raped.  She had been through worse.  And she wasn't tied up here, although he thought she was.  She was ready to attack him, ready to grab whatever she could, with her free hand when he was in the midst of distraction.

But he was always limp, and she didn't want to make it worse for him that way.  She looked away, played the terrified girl when she realized he was powerless.

He left the room and she shrugged.  Now, how to get out of the house. He's not a danger naymore, just an annoyance. (She hoped)