Memoirs · Miscellaneous

Dream-catcher

I have a funny brain.

Not funny ha-ha, but funny peculiar. The wiring is weird for one and sometimes I can’t grasp stuff easily, like reading or the difference between seeing and watching… That is a huge difference… Imagine in the conversation saying you have seen Brad Pit instead of watching him on the TV. I have had a few awkward conversations there, although most people are understanding and will laugh about it with me.

My funny brain… It can make life weird. I must have been under ten when I realised that we were all made up of cells and those cells were made up of atoms and those atoms were made up of electrons, protons and neutrons. It blew my mind. Not that we were essentially tiny bits all working together in a level that I have no conscious thought about, although that is fairly freaky, no, what got me was the space.

Between those teeny tiny things was space.

The stuff they floated in was nothing, that we had loads of nothing. And they floated… in nothing…

I freaked.

I would look at something and it would deconstruct in front of my eyes. I’d see the space.

I’d see the nothing.

I didn’t sleep.

I barely moved. I couldn’t get my head past it. The fact that there was so much space.

My parents despaired so they got me a dream-catcher.

0001779_tribal-dream-catcher

They reasoned that I was having bad dreams so they created a narrative where I was able to use the dream-catcher to get rid of them.

I guess it shouldn’t have worked. It hung over my bed at the height so if I kneeled in front of it I could whisper my problems to it. And that is what I used it for. Not catching dreams but storing worries. I’m not sure they can be used that way, but that is how I did it. And it worked. I would whisper about space and nothing and then I would sleep.

The really odd thing is that I hate spiders, but in my dream-catcher I pictured a massive spider getting fat from my caught worries. He helped me…

I lost that dream-catcher between university and my home. I remember packing it and thinking it looked a bit worn, a bit old, but by the time I was back home it had gone.

I remember looking but then something came up and I stopped. I never went back. It was as if that part of my life was done. I do still worry about that nothing that makes us, but now I’m not scared, just curious.

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