Half full. Half empty. The tummy to cup ratio. Love the idea that last night’s sip plus this morning’s gulp can call your dreams to you.
Or pull your dreams up from within you.
Clouds. Skies. Roots. Shoulders. Daydreaming is not lazy. I like that.
My friend’s dad used to call me “spacey”. I’m never quite sure why. Probably because I was daydreaming about something or spaced out when he was talking to me.
I never really like him that much. I felt like he was always hiding something behind his game of charades. I didn’t like the way he treated his wife.
A boyfriend from Toronto said I had this look he called ‘child’s stare’. Where I would stare off in the distance while in mid-conversation with someone.
I guess it’s similar to when you’re on the couch “alone”, and your dog is staring at something over your shoulder.
I wonder – if this for me was a trauma response. So much the backdrop to the emotional abuse in my life that I became the environment.
I would see the scene play out as if I was the bird cage, the spiderweb, or the cupboard doors – silent and observing from the background.
I’d like to explore this idea more in my writing – how a family member can become the setting while still being a main character.
where rivers are born 