When you don’t speak your thoughts aloud, a Melbourner recently told me, your body processes them through dreams instead. She experienced this while on a ten day silent retreat last year. Even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.1
Magnesium glycinate usually gives me vivid dreams, so I took some over the holidays. I dreamt of an acquaintance, her father, and her mother - who I’ve never met - attempting to prove their loyalty to an 80s pop musician. What unspoken thought was my body processing there? I was doubled over in frustration: a good conversation, a good dream - God, something to subsist on.
My life is going relatively well. Things are good if not a little lonely. I went on a walk shortly after the new year began because my head felt like a thick cornstarch slurry. The moon was full and absurdly low, hanging just a breath above the streetlights. And I thought of a girl I knew in college who hugged me when I told her I got into the dorm I wanted to get into. We didn’t know each other very well and lost touch as often happens. In the last few days of college, I saw her again. She was presenting some research. At the end of her presentation, I raised my hand to volunteer a compliment. She seemed a little surprised by it. I would never pretend not to know you2 - and it was nice knowing you, as brief as it was.
A coworker recently told me she loves that I don’t give a GAF. She said that two of our other coworkers had just been gushing about me: aloof, cool, unbothered. I think I just laughed. I can’t tell people when I miss them. I can’t ask people to hang out with me. Or tell them when they’ve hurt my feelings.
Anyway, on my new years walk, I walked by a car with the phrase “SHOCKING VIBES” printed on the windshield. See, that’s why it’s better to ruminate on an outdoor walk instead of in a dark bedroom: you’re sure to see something that breaks you out of your reverie and say, “Hmm, what?”