It’s 3:39 AM. My brain thinks it’s play time. My cat agrees and has been doing wind sprints up and down the hallway. I love how she chases imaginary mice with the same level of intensity a real rodent would demand. She’s ten pounds of joy.
M. is asleep. I enjoy asking him a question or two when he’s between worlds. He always answers in a soft voice without opening his eyes. If he could do stand-up comedy in this state, he’d be famous. (For being funny, I mean.)
I do feel a tiny bit bad for treating him like a Magic 8 Ball. (I figure if it bothers him, he’ll wake up and tell me off.) I just asked him if he thinks I’m a little weird. He said, “yes.” No elaboration. I had to walk away to prevent waking him from giggling.
I’m half convinced we’re incapable of lying while asleep. I think it’s why we have nightmares, sometimes. Like we’re disconnected from the part of our brain that can reason beyond instinct. The world is a terrifying place when you take everything at face value.
When we’re awake, we can reason with ourselves. It’s almost like lying to ourselves by reframing the story in a more tolerable manner. While still afraid of the same things, we can cope when awake if we approach from a strategic angle. When asleep, this level of sophistication doesn’t exist. At least not for me.
It frustrates the crap out of me. I try to think of it as my inner five-year-old being the Nightmare Slayer. She’s badass, but she’s five. She’s always going to scream when startled, cry when afraid, and panic when in danger because she’s new. It’s a lot easier to forgive a five-year-old (for basically anything.)
The longer I study Stevie Nicks, the more I learn things about coping with life in general. I feel a wee bit guilty because I began this quest for knowledge about Fleetwood Mac. I’ve practically ignored the rest of the band because I’m so blown away by Stevie Nicks. I mean, I didn’t miss how amazing Christine McVeigh is, but I haven’t studied her career yet.
I think Stevie Nicks reaches me because we both navigate by intuition. It’s probably why she initially pinged on my autism-dar. Heh. I recognized something familiar, but it took me a bit to nail it. Of course, she’s the Queen of Rock who also happens to be a ballerina dancing, poetry writing, quick-witted, soulful, hilarious, stronger-than-her-size-belies, beautiful, loving human. Of course, I’m listening.