08/27/1999

Dream: Inspiration

-it is nighttime and wintertime, but it doesn’t feel cold outside
-Lawrence’s daughter Bess and I are running across that type of snow that’s icy across the top, so we don’t fall through
-Bess is ahead of me, wearing pink canvas shoes, a light orange shawl, and then another light blue shawl overtop
-I say to her, “You know how sometimes something gives you the greatest urge to paint? Well, you’ve just done that for me.”
-I run a bit to catch up to her, just to make sure she’s actually listening to me

It’s a funny thing; I miss my teddy bear—the one Lawrence gave me at the end of the school year. I should have brought it with me when I came to stay at Aunt Bay’s.

This afternoon I had an entire conversation with Lawrence’s wife before she said, “May I ask who’s speaking?”

Amusing.

I like having Aunt Bay’s house to myself… well, that’s not even true… but I don’t mind sharing it with two dogs. This way I don’t feel as crazy for talking to myself; I just pretend I’m talking to them.

Giselle

08 /26/1999

“Remember that naming people and objects is a magical art.”

~Lerner and Lerner, Inner Child Cards: A Journey into Fairy Tales, Myth and Nature

I am so hesitant to do so because what if I choose the wrong name for him? Or what if I choose the proper name in the moment, but then later on the name needs to be changed? If I call him Father now, I can never call him Lover in the future. But I Love him. Why wouldn’t I want him as such?

I think that perhaps I am devoting too much energy to this project.

Giselle

08/25/1999

Dream: Ignorance

-I am playing golf (!?)
-there are people on the course from the church we went to when I was a kid. They ask why… something about church?
-I decide it’s time to stop running and I tell them I haven’t been to church in years. I’m not going back. They talk down to me, as if I’ve made a stupid decision, but also as if I were a stupid person
-I’m not impressed. I explain my standpoint, but they’re not listening to me. How ignorant some people can be!
-I start yelling at them and can’t tell if I’m crying or if there are just tears in my eyes
-these people make me so angry that I don’t even try to control myself. I know I can’t get the point across in this format, but I keep yelling that God is Love
-no one is listening to me

When Iyanla Vanzant and Oprah were discussing their respective experiences of sexual abuse, Iyanla said, “This is how you know that it’s healed.” She could talk about the experience without identifying with the pain of the experience.

Lately, I have been wondering how much of my own childhood pain has yet to be healed. When I was talking with Christie today, I was almost surprised to hear myself mention my father, although it makes sense that I would.

I want my memories back! I want to remember what it was like growing up in this house. If it was painful, so be it! It was, after all, an essential part of my experience.

Nothing is clear in my mind; at least, nothing concerning my youth.

A part of me wishes I had gone to stay with Lawrence for a few days, but I don’t feel that I made the wrong decision. How intimate would it have been to spend some time alone with him! I have an overwhelming feeling, though, that I will get my chance.

What a lovely man.

Christie feels so loved by him, and they don’t even know each other. I felt like calling him this evening, but thought that might seem too obsessive. Why is that a concern all of the sudden? Is it such a crime to be obsessed?

I really should name this man. What is he, to me? More than a teacher, certainly. A friend, but so much more than that. I’m not even sure what I want him to be. That’s the problem.

Another problem is that he must learn to be more straightforward with me. I can translate his dialogue, but I don’t think I should have to. If he wants to invite me over, he must provide me with an excuse. What reason would I give my mother for staying there?

Giselle

08/24/1999

Dream: Extreme Frustration

-it takes me a really long while to get ready for school. I could have made it on time if I took the bus, but I decide to wait for Lawrence
-he never shows up
-there’s snow everywhere and there’s an adolescent polar bear outside the house. Someone’s reciting the general development of a species during puberty, like a voiceover in a documentary
-at 7:53, mum says she’ll drive me to school and we take the 401, but it’s taking a really long time and mum doesn’t know where she is or where we’re going
-I’ll definitely be late for school, and I casually say, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Then I casually apologise with the excuse of being extremely frustrated
-mum stops the car and starts talking to people
-I wake up with my arms thrashing, hitting the headboard

Wanna hear about my phone call? From Lawrence, I mean. Yes, of course you do!

The little voice in my head told me to expect a call around 2:00 in the afternoon; intellect agreed. Two o’clock makes sense, you see, because he would prefer to call early in the day, but he would be afraid of waking me in the morning. At noon, it’s lunch time, but people are usually finished lunch by two.

Also, I knew there couldn’t be anyone else in the house at the time of his call, but I didn’t expect him to send everyone away.

I don’t remember him asking for me, although I’m sure he did. He introduced himself by saying, “This is Lawrence West,” as if I wouldn’t know. I recognized his voice on the phone, although there was something unidentifiably different in the quality. Higher chakra, perhaps.

The one thing I had been afraid of was that the conversation would be somehow stressed. Was I wrong! It was just like talking to Christie. How relieved am I! The absence wasn’t felt. There is no place for absence in eternity.

My faux-pas was in blurting out, “You have body image issues” after he went on about feeling guilty for eating so much popcorn the night before. I stand by the statement, though. He’s worse than most females I know. What a dear.

I can’t tell you how I shivered when he said, “Your room is being dusted.”

Oh God! How do I live in fear! He offered an open invitation to stay with him if my mother’s barbs grew too cumbersome, and I had to pretend I was fine living with my family.

How badly do I want to stay there, with him, in his house! Oh, my heart longs for the day I can accept this offer. Now would be the perfect time, too, with his whole family visiting Victoria’s parents one more time before the school year begins.

I am frustrated with myself. Perhaps I truly didn’t want to impose, but I can’t explain why I wouldn’t simply pick up and go. He asked me to come. It’s exactly what I want. Why wouldn’t I go?

And then his comment: “I just hate cooking for myself.”

Anticipated answers? “I’ll cook for you” or “You can cook for me!” But no. I had to say, “Then don’t eat.” I recognized the invitation, but did not to take it.

Good conversation, in all. Lawrence’s voice cracked a bit while he was talking about his father’s dementia, as did mine when I was talking about Christie’s remission. He offered to help her with moving/settling in at university if he happened to be in London.

It would have seemed very natural to end the conversation by saying, “I Love you,” but I didn’t. A telephone “I Love you” isn’t good enough for me and my ego. My ego and I need a fanfare, need a 100-piece orchestra.

No, that’s not true.

A good, heartfelt “I Love you” will do.

That may take time, but there’s comfort in knowing it’s always been true.

I Love you.

Giselle

08/23/1999

It’s funny; saying “I am in Love” when the object of my affections is not around is much like saying, “I am an artist” when I’m not painting. The experience is only a vague memory until it is once again experienced, and then it is glorious.

Giselle

08/22/1999

Dream: Up To His Old Tricks

-I’m back at school, seeing my friends on the last day of classes
-Andrew and I look through pictures on the wall together, and then walk into the auditorium, only to find everyone meditating
-Ms. Pape scolds us for being late, and I’m mortified because I didn’t even know we had classes
-the teachers are thinking up ways to get us to clean the auditorium without realising we’re doing so. Ms. Pape asks us to work on scenes in partners, about cleaning
-everyone has a partner right away, but I don’t. I wander out of the auditorium and see many people, most of whom are sitting on the floor. They say they’re not going to do the exercise
-I decide to go home. I see a house with a gorgeous balcony and think we should buy it. Then I see the next-door neighbour watching me from her house and I wish she wouldn’t spy
-when I get to my front door, I notice it’s open and I know the kids wouldn’t be home yet, and even if they were they would have closed the door
-I yell inside, “Is anyone home?”
-my father appears at the basement door and replies, “Just you and me.”
-I run to the neighbour’s house and knock on her door. She’s still there and I ask if I can come in. She says yes and leads me to a T.V. in the basement
-there’s a feast on the table, but it seems irrelevant to me
-she says she’s making some coffee and asks if I would like some
-I ask for tea instead
-the T.V. only gets kid channels and I keep flipping until I see Remington Steele. My mom always liked that show, so I watch that

I’m just sitting here wondering what to write.

I finished Moby Dick today.

I’m breathing.

Sometimes I really feel like mum despises me. How many times have I heard the words, “I wish you would just move out”? She would despise me even more were I actually to do it. Staying at Aunt Bay’s for a week should be a slight break.

Mum killed the gladiolas I planted out front. She chopped them right down. I was terribly disappointed, but when I mentioned it she actually yelled, “I don’t care!”

Je me sens que j’oublies un peu comment aimer, mais…

How blessed am I to inhabit such a glorious temple as this!

I Love, I Love, I Love.

Giselle

08/21/1999

Dream: “They”

-“They” are after me, although I’m not sure who “they” are
-I start out hiding in the shed, but I’m discovered
-I end up running all over the place

Me? Obsessive?

Sure! I’m the first to admit it, but Christie is of the opinion that one of my obsessions is unhealthy.

You got it: Lawrence.

Christie says I should ask myself “what I need from him.” Ugh. This could get ugly.

O.K. Why am I so obsessive right now, in this very moment? That’s a simple enough question to answer: I’m bored. In my boredom, I have settled into a place wherein Love is not prominent.

I admit it: I’m having a great deal of trouble Loving myself right now. My mother thinks everything I do is wrong, I don’t have a job, I’m afraid of failing Calculus again this year, I’m afraid of not being accepted into a University program, and I’m afraid that the people I Love will forget about me. Christie is going off to University in London, and if her cancer comes back full-force I may lose her completely. I haven’t spoken to any of my other friends all summer.

I suppose I want proof that this one person, whom I Love dearly, has not forgotten about me. What’s the use in having a mantra like “I am a Loved and Loving person for I stand in the Grace of God” when I don’t believe a word of it? No matter how much I turn to myself for that Love, I always end up turning back out again.

I Love this man.

I Love him.

I must now go to the Divine, as the source of all Love, and ask for guidance. I am Loved. I do Love. I must learn how to give this Love freely, and without fear of being hurt or misused. I must teach others to do the same.

I Love, I Love, I Love.

Giselle