Dimsim and a Dream of Horses
i was sitting on the bus thinking for a long time about how no-one can see things from exactly the same point as you; specifically, no one can see the underneath of your fringe like you can, not even if you’re in love. your love can get really really close to your face, but not close enough to see your fringe from your eyeballs.
then i started thinking about this in movies. no-one makes the movie where you see actually what the character sees. their arms from their own eyes. their fringe from their own eyes. it’s not true of course, there’s plenty of movies like this.
for example, after the bus ride i was at home by the ocean, in front of the telly, and there was a movie on with my favourite (a redhead) as the main character. the movie is made from a book written by a man who lived in my home town, who surfed in and looked out across and fished in the exact same ocean as the one i could hear breaking and washing and moving as i watched the movie. the same ocean i looked across in the evening with everything the kinds of colours that cannot be described because they are just too lovely for anything other than your own eyes looking at them to describe to your brain, and even that’s a big effort.
and in fact, this movie was seen from the eyes of this young redhead; you can even see the frames of his glasses from the perspective of his own eyeballs. and yes, you even see the underside of his fringe.
but i didn’t watch all of it, because i’ve been having great dreams. when i dream i feel that i am there. like, i made a great female friend in my dream last night – partly like my friend ashley mclean, partly like my friend sarah green, and partly like a danish actress from a tv show i watched with my parents, my mum falling asleep on the couch. her skin is slowly falling asleep now, my mum’s. it’s pretty weird. all our skin is all slowly falling asleep. our hair is growing thinner, all, skin falling asleep, all, blood thinning, all, heart running out of beats, all. whoops – death! but yeah, i miss that friend i made in my dream. i find women harder to get friends with. this one i was going to go horseriding with, this dream woman.
today i’ve been also thinking about houses and security, because my friend is maybe going to get a house in tasmania, and my dad always asks me about getting a house. but i dreamed a good place in tasmania instead. and i’m thinking about becoming a mystic instead of getting a house. if i just have a robe and friends, i won’t need a house. by the water i thought about a quote from someone recently on the radio, that seeing earth from the sky was like being born, going from the womb to the outside world. and i’ve been thinking whether that is actually what death will be like, falling into another more incredible wonderful place we can’t yet imagine, with god all round and only good things. could happen.
so yes, the bus ride with my hair, the beach with the sunset, the movie with the redhead, tasmania with the dream house and the dream woman to ride horses beside, and the entire globe spinning with all our skin falling gravitationally and momentarily, through time and space.
but the best story i heard this week was on the phone to my friend sam, who i grew up with by the ocean. he told me about a lady he worked with, a big, rough lady, who told him the story of an entertainer called rodney rude coming to her town and taking a liking to her. the next day she was eating a roadhouse dimsim in the dust on the side of the road and rodney rude came past and again tried to pick her up. but she knocked him back one more time: in her words “sam, i just sat there in the dust, and kept eating my dimsim!”
for the next little while, i might do that as well. just sit in the dust, keep eating my dimsim, and dream a bit more about horses.