the thaw

i think it's finally the beginning of the end. 

the end of the long, seeming perpetual winter. 

It's a gorgeous day out, an unbelievable 60 degrees, and my windows are open and the venetian blinds are being sucked into them from the gusts of Chicago wind that bring words of change. 

So I'm working on a screenplay right now. About some troubled son coming home for a funeral and finding himself, blah blah blah. But i'm loving it, because i feel so productive. I'm sitting here type type typing away, feeling oh so legit with my screenwriting software that makes any stream of consciousness look professional. 

i feel like for the past few weeks i've been balancing on the edge of this cliff, or maybe a coffee table, wobbling back and forth but overcome with this feeling that something big is on the other side. the calm before the storm? possibly. I can't explain it. But i have been doing a lot of lucid dreaming, finding an hour before work to crash face down on the couch, hoping to conjure some bizarre choose-your-own-adventure. It's all been giving me these weird feelings, not weird bad but weird unknown. 

I think i need to blog more, let these things out. I have all these occurrences and stories i've been meaning to relay. 

i'll leave you one now, about his lucid dream i had a few days ago. Saturday, to be exact. It echos this feeling i've been having recently:

whatever I'm doing at the moment has to stop. All of a sudden i am overcome with an urgency to go outside. It's an apocalyptic panic, and i grab _______'s hand and pull her with me, searching for the nearest door. As soon as i get outside, the air hits me like concrete. It's difficult to breathe, the air is so thick it's like inhaling water. I look down at my hand, pawing through the atmosphere, watching the air part against my fingertips and the spaces between my fingers, like when you slowly press your hand on the surface of a swimming pool. I am still clenching her hand, making sure we don't get separated. The sky is so dark, like when it storms in the middle of the day and you lose your concept of time because its suddenly night at noon. We are on the beach, the sand is damp and caked, the water is dark and grey and troubling. We get to the surf, and i spy a whale! a giant, dark whale and i can see his skin perfectly, all the bumps and tightness, and so i let go of her hand and turn around to call her attention. But the second i turn to face her, the water starts pulling me in and it's the strongest undertow that i could ever imagine, and i cannot even begin to fight it. It pulls me away, leaving her on the shore.

I wake up, sprawled on my back on the couch with one leg up on the back of the couch and my arm over my head and the other dangling off the edge, and i think that my roommates must think i'm absolutely insane. 

any dream interpreters out there?

on a lighter note, this is a bit of wisdom i got from an vibrant old woman with a broken arm:

"when a bird falls and injures itself, it's best not to help it. The bird will use all of its remaining energy to heal itself slowly."

she tells me she refuses to go to physical therapy, but instead is fasting and has a newfound energy and sense of focus. 

and then she tapped my nose with a smile and was off.