thoughts from a while ago
08/03/2002 11:50 p.m.
I wrote this essay dealy thing a while ago as so as I'd finished the Sandman graphic novel series. They may not flow perfectly and the style may be a bit borrowing of Neil Gaiman's just because that's what happens to writers when they read. I was so happy to find this so I thought I'd share it even if it may not make sense to everyone. It was interesting to note my talking to Death at that point since these many months later I'm realizing that possibility. It's just interesting. So there it is. Here you go.




It has occurred to me that I dont think often. Not that Im stupid, its just the thoughts dont come to me in paragraph form. There is a continual dialogue going on in my head, like Im saying things but its only my thoughts, not my vocal cords. A little voice is there talking about whatever it decides to talk about and thats me, thats who I am. Im not possessed and I dont hear voices and I dont have multiple personalities. My thoughts come to me with a voice. Sometime I see them written down, like a book. But most the time Im reciting something in my head thats just appeared there. I usually only take notice of this after Ive read a book or when Im really depressed. Books make me think, and thinking for me is like talking to no one. Sound reverberating inside my head. So when I notice something or understand something deeply, I discuss it with myself. Or with no one. But Im discussing it nonetheless. Thats probably the reason I like to watch Politically Incorrect with Bill Maher. I sit on my bed after midnight discussing political issues with no one. The same thing with all talk shows. My friend Charity and I had a phone conversation once and we both admitted that we had pretended to be guests on a late show from time to time. I like doing that because at least it give my thoughts a chance to be vocalized.

So I pretend Im sitting in a little chair with wooden arms with my legs pulled all up under me, because thats how I sit. Im one of five people discussing politics in front of the late-night-television-viewing audience. Sometimes I make a joke, sometimes I laugh at other peoples jokes. I play with my hair a bit and then explain to the audience and other guests why marijuana should be legalized. The guests nod with approval and the audience claps, then Bill has to take a break. Actually Im just sitting in my bed at midnight talking to myself. Thats why reality sucks.

Its also why I cried when Morpheus died. For those of you who dont know, Morpheus was the Dream King, the Sandman. A man named Neil Gaiman gave him his own series of comic books, which I read hungrily the day I bought them. Eventually, Morpheus, the Sandman, dies. He has to, hes tired and his time is up. He holds Deaths hand and hes gone. This is in the ninth of ten graphic novels. Ive gotten to know Morpheus; Ive called out to him to let me meet him in a dream. Im convinced he answered me and that I met him maybe more than met him. And I attended his wake. Anyone who read the comic book attended his wake. Neil said so and I believe him. After I read about Morpheus death, it was after two in the morning and I laid in bed weeping. Begging him to come back. He didnt. His son, whos name was Daniel, took over. I felt just like Matthew, Morpheus raven. He didnt want anything to change. I didnt either. But I couldnt stop it. There it was, written plain as day. And I couldnt change it. So I finished the series, reading the first graphic novel last because I couldnt find it anywhere. That sequence of events was probably the only thing that saved me from going over into Despairs realm. I was happy again, because if you read the end first and it is not a happy ending, at least you know the beginning will hold some joy. It did. And it made the reality of the Dream Kings death a dream once again. I believe thats the way it should be.

Pretending. Make believe. Daydreaming. I used to do it so often when I was younger. I do it now, more than I realize. I think its the only thing that keeps me sane. Morpheus said, without Dreams, there could be no Despair. I say, without Dreams, we would all belong to Delirium. Which wouldnt be a bad thing. I like Delirium a lot. Shes me on a good day. I thought when I set out to read the Sandman comic books that Delirium would be my favorite of the Endless. She certainly is charming and I do like her very muchly, but she turned out to be my third favorite character. Youd never believe whos first. Or maybe you would. Shes very lovable. Many have fallen in love with her. I think I did, though in the way I fell in love with Tori Amos, in a very sisterly way that only women understand. Im talking about Death, of course. She is so strong. And kind in a deathly sort of way. There is one particular drawing of her that resembles me slightly. I think the artist did it on purpose I think I had a conversation with Death while I was in the shower once. Maybe twice. Once was this morning and I was sad that Morpheus was gone. She reassured me that I had met him before he went with her, perhaps wed met many times. I smiled and was glad she was just passing by. I was also glad that shed stopped to talk to me.

My second favorite character is Dream. Who could read The Sandman and not love him? He is responsible for giving us everything we could ever want. As long as we dont need it for real. When Nuala, the Faerie gift, asked Dream to love her, that was the moment I understood my own feeling. The feeling that love is right there, just within your grasp, and yet without. Loving a fictional character is something all readers do. Its what makes them keep turning pages, keep visiting the library, keep funding Barnes and Noble. A friend of mine fell in love with Lisa, a character from Girl, Interrupted. Or so I think. And she was simply a great character. Ive fallen in love many times. Johnny Tremain, Atreyu, Dr. Jekyll, Robin Goodfellow (yes, a strange choice, I know), Romeo, and others whom Ive only known in stories. Stories keep people alive, or maybe just sane. Or maybe just me.

I am currently Reflective
I am listening to random radio sounds