September 14th, 2009

the sensitive poet

Many Dreams

I don't often dream, or at least don't often remember dreaming the next morning.  But last night I had a string of dreams.  I only remember one, in which I was in an old asylum and saw ghosts of children.  I think the children were all little girls.  In one room I saw two girls, one about 8 and the other around 5.  A large, shadowy presence sat vaguely but ominously on the opposite side of the room.  I asked it: "Who are you?" and it said nothing.  The littlest ghost ran up to it and waved her arms at its base before running back.  The presence was disturbed and a small portion of it solidified, about 8 feet in the air, revealing a single malevolent eye looking down at us. 

Well, that was disturbing enough to remember.  The other dreams are completely lost to me.  I quickly pieced together where the dream had come from.  Last night I watched the movie "Rachel Rachel" (great movie!) which has flashbacks to chidhood, and echoey children's songs, and also dead children (in a funeral home).  The ghost girls definitely came from having watched that movie.  The asylum is from an article I was looking at two days ago, on Western State, where Frances Farmer was interned.  And the eye, I'm pretty sure, is the eye of evil that looks down at Frodo in the Lord of the Rings movies (though I haven't  re-watched those any time recently). 

The social order of spectres is something that has been hinted at in various episodes of "A Haunting" (one of Leeann's favorite shows), and sometimes on other shows (like "Ghost Whisperer").  I was thinking about it two days ago after we watched one of those shows (can't remember the name of it), and so it's not surprise that I would dream about ghosts in an asylum who are held there by a malevolent presence.  There is no scientific proof for this sort of thing, but for all we know, it could happen.  I mean, couldn't it? 
the sensitive poet

Rest in Peace x 2

Two great memoirists whose work I've enjoyed have passed away this year.  Just a few days ago, Jim Carroll, who wrote "The Basketball Diaries", died while working at his desk.  In April, J. G. Ballard, whose book "Empire of the Sun" is about 1000 times better than the movie that was made from it, also died.  Carroll was a teenage heroin addict and basketball star.  Ballard, as a child, survived a Japanese prison camp, and death march.  I think part of what makes their memoirs appealing is that nothing in their traumatic childhoods is especially sensationalized.  They related outrageous events in plan, cool language, revealing in their tone perhaps what it was that helped them survive. 

(subject rebounded from [info]mr_sadhead)