Last week as I was walking down 14th St the intensity of the morning sun reminded me of some things that happened last year. My son had a dream that terrified him, he woke up telling me he had a "lightmare." In his dream, a cabinet in our house was emitting rainbow light and for some reason this really scared him.
I brought this up while talking to some friends of mine at lunch and my friend told me that she had dreams of light that terrified her. In them she'd find herself overwhelmed by bright light that filled her field of vision. It reminds me of how eventually we will all have to face the overwhelming experience of facing justice and truth, which reminds me of the judgement I brought on my self for writing the post called Made Mommies. I really thought it was clear that I was seeing this other random mommy as a mirror for myself. Then I went on to talk about some people whose attitudes of superiority bother me, and I said that. But that little word seemed overlooked by most everyone who responded to the story. some. some. not all. not at all all.
It's for good reason though that people have attitudes about parents who are unwise. It reminds me of the feeling of seeing a little kid at the mercy of an adult who is making terrible decisions. That's terrifying. It's like watching an animal being abused. Alas, we have high expectations for parents, but nature doesn't.
Labels I accumulated as people reacted to the post on the curbed comment thread included lame, lame-o, illiterate, random, cliched, mediocre, bearer of inferiority complex, victim. There were others. Personally, I would add schizophrenic to that list but I am not a psychologist so who am I to make that diagnosis. For some reason, I am delighted by the word random.
I'm random.
Are you?
The word reminds me of how many people there are in the world. I am one of how many billions of random people like dust motes flying around in the air. Cool. I feel so free!
Someone used the word crotchfruit, that's always amusing. The last person to post on that thread said something like "What's all the hating about? I think Park Slope mothers are kind of hot." (yes, I was reading closely...) I was glad it ended that way, with some words that ran as sweet as milk.
Weird to read Gowanus Lounge last week and see the story Blinded By the Light, about people on 16th St. who've been kept awake at night by high intensity lights put up by the builders of the VUE building. Are the developers sadists? This will be a happier hood when people get their nightly melatonin. Please Sara Gonzalez? Please Bill Deblasio? Can you rev up like a deuce (?) and end their lightmare? I want happy neighbors!
Update: Thanks Daniel. Now I know what a deuce is. Or is it know i now? Whatever... time to ride!
2 comments:
In my youth, a Buick Electra 225 was known as a "deuce and a quarter" or just a "deuce." And then there's the rock and roll song, by the Beach Boys, maybe, "My Little Deuce Coupe."
On being blinded by the light, of justice and truth, I remember an old Hungarian Calvinist preacher saying, in Hungary, during the Communist era, that to be judged by God is the greatest privilege of a human being.
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