Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Girl Stuff vs. Guy Stuff
In this dream I had last night a toddler, her mother and grandmother joined our family for a holiday meal, probably Thanksgiving. Everyone was standing around a buffet-serving table. The child stood off by herself, facing away from the table.
She wore an old tan cable knit sweater, and she had a teddy bear tucked under her arm. It was equally tattered. Her mousy brown hair was almost shoulder length It was tied back in a ponytail topped by a festive pink ribbon.
Her mother turned and called the child.
“India, come and eat,” she said.
The child turned toward us. She was a homely little thing, but only because her face that of a woman, not a toddler. I thought she was perhaps in the early stages of Progeria Syndrome. Her face was devoid of emotion. Only her eyes showed she was truly alive.
Her mother grabbed her arm and began pulling her to the table scolding all the while.
“I hate it when you get like this. Come and eat. You’re terrible,” she said.
The child twisted free and started down a hallway, not running like a normal toddler, but simply walking away.
“Let her go. Just eat without her,” the grandmother advised.
I stepped into the hallway.
“Hey, India,” I called.
She turned around and gazed at me intently, her child’s eyes looking out of that tiny 40-year-old face.
“Would you like to go for a walk with me?” I asked.
She shook her head ‘no’. If I wasn’t watching closely I’d have missed the motion. She was so solemn.
“We could go just around the block,” I said.
At this point in the dream there was a black and white graphic of the route we might take. I was showing India the way.
“We’d come right back here, see?” I said tracing the black line from the front steps, around the block and back up the steps with my finger.
“She doesn’t know you,” her grandmother said. “Maybe later.”
India continued to regard me speculatively. She took a tiny step toward me. I sensed if I stayed motionless she’d take my hand.
As I woke up she was looking up at me, holding my hand, the teddy bear gripped firmly under her other arm. She was just about to smile.
As soon as I was fully awake Ian took ops. I didn’t care. I needed to think about the dream. But he and Eyvonne were engaged in a most distracting activity. I sought the quiet of my favorite place in the forest inside. I made it dawn. I sat down and watched the sun rise, felt its warmth caress my skin.
So. Who was India? More to the point who did she represent? Many of our inner children remained hidden for years. Was this a child indicating readiness to come in from hiding?
I had a strong feeling this wasn’t about a child. Her face was too familiar. I broke into a sweat when I realized why. Her face was my own, feminized, softened.
Shit.
Suddenly I wanted to do anything but sit there and think. I called my horse and swung up on his broad back. We raced down the mountain and out across the plains as the sun continued to rise. But I couldn’t outrace my dream. The little girl’s face haunted me.
At last I slowed the horse to a walk. I sensed other Qs waking up. I mindtouched Ian lightly, imaging that I was tapping on a door.
“Stop knocking,” he growled at me.
“I need to write down this dream,” I explained.
He and Eyvonne were in an afterglow of satisfaction. I could feel how relaxed the body was, how happy Ian was.
“Go ‘way,” he said and locked ops.
I slid off my horse and walked. The horse put his nose over my shoulder and kept pace with me. Chia, one of our outside horses used to that. I missed the outside horses but inside horses are a lot less work.
I knew Ian would honor my request if I honored his rare solo time up. Each of us Qs treasure time alone with Eyvonne pretending if just for a moment she belongs to us alone.
Trust me Kermie was right. It’s not easy being green.
As I walked I became pretty sure the child India was Notastarsystem, AKA Pleiades.
Clue number one: looked like me. Clue number two: mute. Clue number three: wanted to trust but was still suspicious. Supposition but probably close to the mark: this was someone who’d been hiding since early childhood but is now adult.
What did I know now I hadn’t known before?
Maybe he was signaling he was ready to risk reaching out. I had to stay alert or I might miss an opportunity to gain his trust. Maybe once we established trust we could talk.
Ian still wouldn’t let me have ops. He wanted coffee first. He likes it with cream. Yuk.
“I haven’t had a raisin cookie in 750 years,” he told Eyvonne blinking his big green eyes.
She laughed.
“And look how innocent you are,” she said. “I thought Shel wanted to write his dream down though.”
“He can wait till after my coffee,” Ian declared.
I sighed and settled in. I’d rather wait then drink his coffee, tepidly polluted with creamer.
As soon as I sat down to write the phone rang.
“Hi Thunder,” I said as I picked it up. I kept typing. This was the day before Thanksgiving and he was eager to come home from college but his Resident Advisor duties meant he had to stay on campus until everyone in his charge left.
“I’ll be ready to leave at 10,” he said.
I glanced at the clock. 9:17.
“I’m sitting here writing and I haven’t had a shower yet. It ain’t gonna happen till like 11,” I said.
“OK, I’ll just read until you get here,” he said.
I could hear the resignation in his voice but even if I walked right out the door I wouldn’t get there for an hour.
Eyvonne breezed through holding enough clothing for several people. She was either headed to donate to a thrift store or about to get dressed for the day. It’s a girl thing.
She needs 30 minutes or more to get ready to pick up the mail. I can shower and be starting the car in five. It’s a guy thing.
“OK if I hop in the shower first?” she asked.
I nodded.
Girl thing/guy thing issues escalated as soon as Thunder arrived home. He had two backpacks, a huge pile of dirty laundry, two laptops, a camera bag and a tuba in a case big enough to hide a body.
These various and sundry objects and effluvia were deposited in the living room, which doubles as my office, except for the tuba which came to rest in the family room where it would obstruct the most traffic. (Guy Stuff)
Sarah had taken command of the larger bathroom before we came home. Makeup and other sundry things were strewn about and all the lights were on when she and her mother stepped out for a smoke. (Girl Stuff)
While they sat on the back steps talking about what to do with their hair since we were going out to listen to Owl's band play that night (Girl Stuff) I realized I had yet again forgotten to take my antibiotic on time. (Guy Stuff) Did I mention it was still six hours before we would be leaving to hear the band? And they were doing their hair now why? A practice run?
I put the giant blue capsule on my tongue and turned to fill my glass with water only to find Thunder washing his hands at the kitchen sink.
“There’s too much (girl) stuff in there to use the sink,” he said indicating the bathroom with his chin.
I couldn’t swallow the capsule without water. PLENTY of water according to the instructions. I ran into the bathroom. I was scared the capsule would melt on my tongue turning it permanently blue or worse. I thrust my glass under the faucet and wondered what the strange hissing sound was until I realized a hot curling iron rested in the sink. It was still plugged into a nearby outlet. (Girl stuff)
Risking electrocution to protect my family I yanked the cord from the outlet and stood there stupidly listening to the appliance hiss and sputter as the capsule turned my tongue bluer.
I set the curling iron carefully on the bathmat and drained my water glass swallowing just before the capsule achieved meltdown.
I stomped (Guy stuff) to the back door.
“Hey you women,” I said. “ Don’t use that curling iron till it dries out. And don’t go plugging stuff like in and leaving it in the sink basin.”
I related the entire scenario so they would understand how serious this was. (Guy stuff)
They laughed. (Girl stuff)
Eyvonne dissembled immediately and blamed Sarah, who admitted proudly. “Yeah, I did that.”
“That outlet has a circuit interrupter on it anyway,” Eyvonne managed.
I turned and stomped back in the house. (Guy stuff)
A minute later they were giggling behind me.
“Hey you man,” Eyvonne said. She was holding the damn curling iron.
“Wha?”
“This thing was melting the bathmat. See this little wire? It’s a stand. Always make sure it’s sitting on the stand when it’s hot,” Eyvonne said. I heard Lillie laughing inside as they ran away giggling. (Girl stuff)
Like I was ever going to touch a curling iron again!
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
She wore an old tan cable knit sweater, and she had a teddy bear tucked under her arm. It was equally tattered. Her mousy brown hair was almost shoulder length It was tied back in a ponytail topped by a festive pink ribbon.
Her mother turned and called the child.
“India, come and eat,” she said.
The child turned toward us. She was a homely little thing, but only because her face that of a woman, not a toddler. I thought she was perhaps in the early stages of Progeria Syndrome. Her face was devoid of emotion. Only her eyes showed she was truly alive.
Her mother grabbed her arm and began pulling her to the table scolding all the while.
“I hate it when you get like this. Come and eat. You’re terrible,” she said.
The child twisted free and started down a hallway, not running like a normal toddler, but simply walking away.
“Let her go. Just eat without her,” the grandmother advised.
I stepped into the hallway.
“Hey, India,” I called.
She turned around and gazed at me intently, her child’s eyes looking out of that tiny 40-year-old face.
“Would you like to go for a walk with me?” I asked.
She shook her head ‘no’. If I wasn’t watching closely I’d have missed the motion. She was so solemn.
“We could go just around the block,” I said.
At this point in the dream there was a black and white graphic of the route we might take. I was showing India the way.
“We’d come right back here, see?” I said tracing the black line from the front steps, around the block and back up the steps with my finger.
“She doesn’t know you,” her grandmother said. “Maybe later.”
India continued to regard me speculatively. She took a tiny step toward me. I sensed if I stayed motionless she’d take my hand.
As I woke up she was looking up at me, holding my hand, the teddy bear gripped firmly under her other arm. She was just about to smile.
As soon as I was fully awake Ian took ops. I didn’t care. I needed to think about the dream. But he and Eyvonne were engaged in a most distracting activity. I sought the quiet of my favorite place in the forest inside. I made it dawn. I sat down and watched the sun rise, felt its warmth caress my skin.
So. Who was India? More to the point who did she represent? Many of our inner children remained hidden for years. Was this a child indicating readiness to come in from hiding?
I had a strong feeling this wasn’t about a child. Her face was too familiar. I broke into a sweat when I realized why. Her face was my own, feminized, softened.
Shit.
Suddenly I wanted to do anything but sit there and think. I called my horse and swung up on his broad back. We raced down the mountain and out across the plains as the sun continued to rise. But I couldn’t outrace my dream. The little girl’s face haunted me.
At last I slowed the horse to a walk. I sensed other Qs waking up. I mindtouched Ian lightly, imaging that I was tapping on a door.
“Stop knocking,” he growled at me.
“I need to write down this dream,” I explained.
He and Eyvonne were in an afterglow of satisfaction. I could feel how relaxed the body was, how happy Ian was.
“Go ‘way,” he said and locked ops.
I slid off my horse and walked. The horse put his nose over my shoulder and kept pace with me. Chia, one of our outside horses used to that. I missed the outside horses but inside horses are a lot less work.
I knew Ian would honor my request if I honored his rare solo time up. Each of us Qs treasure time alone with Eyvonne pretending if just for a moment she belongs to us alone.
Trust me Kermie was right. It’s not easy being green.
As I walked I became pretty sure the child India was Notastarsystem, AKA Pleiades.
Clue number one: looked like me. Clue number two: mute. Clue number three: wanted to trust but was still suspicious. Supposition but probably close to the mark: this was someone who’d been hiding since early childhood but is now adult.
What did I know now I hadn’t known before?
Maybe he was signaling he was ready to risk reaching out. I had to stay alert or I might miss an opportunity to gain his trust. Maybe once we established trust we could talk.
Ian still wouldn’t let me have ops. He wanted coffee first. He likes it with cream. Yuk.
“I haven’t had a raisin cookie in 750 years,” he told Eyvonne blinking his big green eyes.
She laughed.
“And look how innocent you are,” she said. “I thought Shel wanted to write his dream down though.”
“He can wait till after my coffee,” Ian declared.
I sighed and settled in. I’d rather wait then drink his coffee, tepidly polluted with creamer.
As soon as I sat down to write the phone rang.
“Hi Thunder,” I said as I picked it up. I kept typing. This was the day before Thanksgiving and he was eager to come home from college but his Resident Advisor duties meant he had to stay on campus until everyone in his charge left.
“I’ll be ready to leave at 10,” he said.
I glanced at the clock. 9:17.
“I’m sitting here writing and I haven’t had a shower yet. It ain’t gonna happen till like 11,” I said.
“OK, I’ll just read until you get here,” he said.
I could hear the resignation in his voice but even if I walked right out the door I wouldn’t get there for an hour.
Eyvonne breezed through holding enough clothing for several people. She was either headed to donate to a thrift store or about to get dressed for the day. It’s a girl thing.
She needs 30 minutes or more to get ready to pick up the mail. I can shower and be starting the car in five. It’s a guy thing.
“OK if I hop in the shower first?” she asked.
I nodded.
Girl thing/guy thing issues escalated as soon as Thunder arrived home. He had two backpacks, a huge pile of dirty laundry, two laptops, a camera bag and a tuba in a case big enough to hide a body.
These various and sundry objects and effluvia were deposited in the living room, which doubles as my office, except for the tuba which came to rest in the family room where it would obstruct the most traffic. (Guy Stuff)
Sarah had taken command of the larger bathroom before we came home. Makeup and other sundry things were strewn about and all the lights were on when she and her mother stepped out for a smoke. (Girl Stuff)
While they sat on the back steps talking about what to do with their hair since we were going out to listen to Owl's band play that night (Girl Stuff) I realized I had yet again forgotten to take my antibiotic on time. (Guy Stuff) Did I mention it was still six hours before we would be leaving to hear the band? And they were doing their hair now why? A practice run?
I put the giant blue capsule on my tongue and turned to fill my glass with water only to find Thunder washing his hands at the kitchen sink.
“There’s too much (girl) stuff in there to use the sink,” he said indicating the bathroom with his chin.
I couldn’t swallow the capsule without water. PLENTY of water according to the instructions. I ran into the bathroom. I was scared the capsule would melt on my tongue turning it permanently blue or worse. I thrust my glass under the faucet and wondered what the strange hissing sound was until I realized a hot curling iron rested in the sink. It was still plugged into a nearby outlet. (Girl stuff)
Risking electrocution to protect my family I yanked the cord from the outlet and stood there stupidly listening to the appliance hiss and sputter as the capsule turned my tongue bluer.
I set the curling iron carefully on the bathmat and drained my water glass swallowing just before the capsule achieved meltdown.
I stomped (Guy stuff) to the back door.
“Hey you women,” I said. “ Don’t use that curling iron till it dries out. And don’t go plugging stuff like in and leaving it in the sink basin.”
I related the entire scenario so they would understand how serious this was. (Guy stuff)
They laughed. (Girl stuff)
Eyvonne dissembled immediately and blamed Sarah, who admitted proudly. “Yeah, I did that.”
“That outlet has a circuit interrupter on it anyway,” Eyvonne managed.
I turned and stomped back in the house. (Guy stuff)
A minute later they were giggling behind me.
“Hey you man,” Eyvonne said. She was holding the damn curling iron.
“Wha?”
“This thing was melting the bathmat. See this little wire? It’s a stand. Always make sure it’s sitting on the stand when it’s hot,” Eyvonne said. I heard Lillie laughing inside as they ran away giggling. (Girl stuff)
Like I was ever going to touch a curling iron again!
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
