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dream
at a wedding of the daughter of an elder from my church back in LA. the bride, a musician, wanted to play music to demonstrate her feelings about her marriage. she got up in the middle of the ceremony, and began to play a narrative on the piano, about herself before meeting this man, about her struggles after meeting him, getting to know him...
3/4 of the way thru, after a measure rest in the piece, she got up and walked over to a waiting cello, and continued the melody on it, while my mom, who had been flipping pages, slid into the piano seat and continued the piece.
the ceremony continued, and i went back to my seat, next to david. we whispered this and that, and made our plans for what we were going to do after the wedding. our family had come to the wedding with a white van and a black VW jetta, and we needed to ask my parents for the jetta. dave was supposed to ask, but ended up talking about something else instead. he came back with an ashamed grin. i was a little upset with him.
the wedding ended, and the bride came up to afterwards to thank me. for what, i don't remember. for flipping the pages for mom when she started playing?
the rest of my family came out, and i asked my dad if i could take the jetta.
before he could answer, jimmy interrupted and said, "no, i'm going to need it during the week."
"that's fine. why don't you come with us."
"no, i'm going to the reception with mom and dad." i was getting a little upset, because none of us knew the bridal couple that well, and jimmy was grinning a little as he said that.
"ok, how about we take the car, and we'll pick you up after the reception. you can take the car then."
"no, i don't think so."
my dad walked on, the issue having been decided in his mind, because jimmy had said so. i was boiling with frustration.
we left for home (oakwood ave, arcadia- so strange. this house is consistently coming up as "home" in my dreams).
during the whole ride, i didn't say a word, just steaming in my corner. it was no longer really an issue about the car. it was just maddening that logic or reason had absolutely no meaning, no pull, in this family.
while we were on santa anita blvd, something happened, and we had to stop. everyone got out to stretch. my dad and jimmy went first in the white van. after a while, they were somehow also in the jetta, and everyone got ready to go. dad motioned for me to get in, but in a moment of frustration/boldness/anger i flung my arms in the air, in a what-do-you-expect-me-to-be-normal-as-if-things-were-fine?! motion, and started jogging up santa anita. they left.
in my anger and fury, i started sprinting, sprinting, until my lungs hurts and felt raw, but i kept pushing anyway. i ran past a pool, large yards of perfectly trimmed grass, and uphill when i reached highland oaks elementary school.
i reached home, and there was no car there. no van. i looked across the street, and there my family was, unloading stuff from the white van into that house. i walked over, expecting punishment, anger, whatever. i didn't care, and was ready to take it.
my dad: "give me 4," he said, in a moment of compassion and understanding, as he extended his fist for me to bang into (mild korean form of punishment. i nodded, but all that i had been feeling came back over me again, and i took a step back to gain a running start, some momentum, to hurt myself as much as i could. i wanted to impale my head on his fist. my head came on with so much force that i knocked my dad down. he looked up at me, surprised, as if he realized for the first time how upset i was. he again lifted his fist. i ran into it again, but my dad put a break at his elbow so that it wouldn't hurt me as much. again i butted my head, and again, he softened the blow. the third time, he barely touched my head before taking me into an embrace.
/dream
i woke up, still angry/frustrated/taut with energy. that it had been but a dream came over me, slowly. even the residual feelings were still very strong. then reality came back, slowly. jimmy was not like that, i told myself. then i remembered how yesterday, while i was gone, he had brought food for me and had left it in my fridge. the conflicting feelings were too much, so i cried in bed a bit.
boy, am i a woman.
i know that i'm going to get a lot of flak for this weird dream, even more flak for crying. even worse is that i know jimmy reads my blog. just wanna let you know that this dream frightened the heck out of me, cause i know that's not how you are. maybe some feelings from way back in the past, still residing in my subconscious? i don't know.
when i came home yesterday and saw the food in the fridge, man... i was so thankful and felt so bad... what kind of a younger brother am i? you do and care so much for me...
yakob at 11:55 AM
-----------------
at a wedding of the daughter of an elder from my church back in LA. the bride, a musician, wanted to play music to demonstrate her feelings about her marriage. she got up in the middle of the ceremony, and began to play a narrative on the piano, about herself before meeting this man, about her struggles after meeting him, getting to know him...
3/4 of the way thru, after a measure rest in the piece, she got up and walked over to a waiting cello, and continued the melody on it, while my mom, who had been flipping pages, slid into the piano seat and continued the piece.
the ceremony continued, and i went back to my seat, next to david. we whispered this and that, and made our plans for what we were going to do after the wedding. our family had come to the wedding with a white van and a black VW jetta, and we needed to ask my parents for the jetta. dave was supposed to ask, but ended up talking about something else instead. he came back with an ashamed grin. i was a little upset with him.
the wedding ended, and the bride came up to afterwards to thank me. for what, i don't remember. for flipping the pages for mom when she started playing?
the rest of my family came out, and i asked my dad if i could take the jetta.
before he could answer, jimmy interrupted and said, "no, i'm going to need it during the week."
"that's fine. why don't you come with us."
"no, i'm going to the reception with mom and dad." i was getting a little upset, because none of us knew the bridal couple that well, and jimmy was grinning a little as he said that.
"ok, how about we take the car, and we'll pick you up after the reception. you can take the car then."
"no, i don't think so."
my dad walked on, the issue having been decided in his mind, because jimmy had said so. i was boiling with frustration.
we left for home (oakwood ave, arcadia- so strange. this house is consistently coming up as "home" in my dreams).
during the whole ride, i didn't say a word, just steaming in my corner. it was no longer really an issue about the car. it was just maddening that logic or reason had absolutely no meaning, no pull, in this family.
while we were on santa anita blvd, something happened, and we had to stop. everyone got out to stretch. my dad and jimmy went first in the white van. after a while, they were somehow also in the jetta, and everyone got ready to go. dad motioned for me to get in, but in a moment of frustration/boldness/anger i flung my arms in the air, in a what-do-you-expect-me-to-be-normal-as-if-things-were-fine?! motion, and started jogging up santa anita. they left.
in my anger and fury, i started sprinting, sprinting, until my lungs hurts and felt raw, but i kept pushing anyway. i ran past a pool, large yards of perfectly trimmed grass, and uphill when i reached highland oaks elementary school.
i reached home, and there was no car there. no van. i looked across the street, and there my family was, unloading stuff from the white van into that house. i walked over, expecting punishment, anger, whatever. i didn't care, and was ready to take it.
my dad: "give me 4," he said, in a moment of compassion and understanding, as he extended his fist for me to bang into (mild korean form of punishment. i nodded, but all that i had been feeling came back over me again, and i took a step back to gain a running start, some momentum, to hurt myself as much as i could. i wanted to impale my head on his fist. my head came on with so much force that i knocked my dad down. he looked up at me, surprised, as if he realized for the first time how upset i was. he again lifted his fist. i ran into it again, but my dad put a break at his elbow so that it wouldn't hurt me as much. again i butted my head, and again, he softened the blow. the third time, he barely touched my head before taking me into an embrace.
/dream
i woke up, still angry/frustrated/taut with energy. that it had been but a dream came over me, slowly. even the residual feelings were still very strong. then reality came back, slowly. jimmy was not like that, i told myself. then i remembered how yesterday, while i was gone, he had brought food for me and had left it in my fridge. the conflicting feelings were too much, so i cried in bed a bit.
boy, am i a woman.
i know that i'm going to get a lot of flak for this weird dream, even more flak for crying. even worse is that i know jimmy reads my blog. just wanna let you know that this dream frightened the heck out of me, cause i know that's not how you are. maybe some feelings from way back in the past, still residing in my subconscious? i don't know.
when i came home yesterday and saw the food in the fridge, man... i was so thankful and felt so bad... what kind of a younger brother am i? you do and care so much for me...
yakob at 11:55 AM