Life is a snowglobe

whitelightsSo it has been a whiteout for days. I am trapped in with a toothache from an emergency root canal without Novocaine. Did you know that if you have an infection they don’t give you Novocaine because it is rendered ineffectual from the infection? It was excruciating and I lived through it and so I am proud of myself. And, having written that, my childhood parallelemeter is ringing off the hook.

I mostly got through my childhood by pretending a lot and inventing things. Sometimes I would invent words, while sitting in my foamy bathtub office, and I’d call up the President of Words and tell him that I had a new one for him. I am reminded of this because last night I had a dream that I was working for the government – which wasn’t much like any existing government, but was a Utopian ideal – and my job was to explain things, in words. My first assignment was to explain how this one, single, 12 foot leap that had recently been made by a Ballerina on a stage, had catapulted her from relative obscurity to world fame and adoration and had thus caused a positive shift in world collective thought, much in keeping with the Butterfly Effect which theorizes, “If a butterfly flaps its wings in Thailand, it causes a Tsunami on the other side of the planet.”

And so I was really struggling to get this into words, to really explain so that everyone would get it, how this leap had made the planet a slightly better place, as the result of this Butterfly Effect. I toiled away but then the phone rang and they had a quick emergency assignment for me which was to explain something traumatic that had happened and the President needed to explain it to the people. So I put on some sort of mask to tackle this job and managed to finish it without getting any bacteria or infection from it and then could take off my mask and go back to the other assignment. And the words that came were like little packages with bows. And when I finished I knew I had accomplished my mission.

I think this is because I struggled so much as a child, and well into adulthood, to get my adopted family to understand me, to hear me, and to realize that, though I was not what they wanted and was not inclined to jump the societal hurdles to earn them the only sort of bragging rights they craved (marriage, children, big house, important job), that I was actually very special in my own way. And I have earned them some bragging rights in high profile ways that make other sorts of people very proud of me. But they could never see that.

And before I woke up from my dream, the President called me into a meeting and said, “I think you should examine why you connect all of your sentences by beginning them with the word “and”. It is ok to let one sentence end and another begin. You do not need that grammatical crutch, or, bridge perhaps. You can take that leap, if you will just try. And perhaps you do not need to always say perhaps. You know the truth and it is a certainty; it is not a perhaps. People will believe you. We have faith in you. Let go of the past.”

And in that space between sleeping and waking I had this feeling of my world being shaken up and all the emotional and psychological ephemera flying loose, as so much fake snow in a snow globe.

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Explore posts in the same categories: Being adopted, Life is a Kilgore Trout 'novel', Who am I?

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