i woke from not unpleasant but a rather surprising dream today. this is quite a notable experience as i dont dream much. well, let's rephrase- i dont get to dream much. since i am a rather helpless insomniac, i am either up most of the time or in haze of very thin veils of sleep- that lets the consciousness to seep through, never quite dark or silent enough for a proper REM state. i had two occasion of dreaming this fall and winter so far and the last one was in banff. and that was a nice surprise- meant that i actually slept and rested. aah the sense of renewal and comfort! that was magic. and now one from last night, from post- christmas. i often hear people complaining about obscene or nonsense dreams; usually im slightly envious, as the ability to dream is one i frequently lack and the very concept of having a free- roaming consciousness in the world of no boundaries appeal a great deal. fantasy land.
i was in a house, consisted of couple different places that i have lived, all collaged onto one space. living room from my childhood, bedroom- well, the dorm room i lived for three years back in the states, the garden from the kansas home i lived with the finneys, basement of my first childhood home (as that was the only place that had a basement i remember), hallways from somewhat dreaded lloyd hall of banff centre, kitchen from my toronto residence, etc. and i could hear people and i was calling out to them because-
i had no hands. just stumps.
it wasnt nasty. just couple bits hanging around but quite closed stumps, like when you break off a joint of those anatomical figurines from art class. no blood, just rounded edges and the sense of 'missing' things. only reason it looks weird is that you 'know' there are more things, supposedly. looking like rag doll who didnt get hands because the maker ran out of fabrics or something. round. blunt.
i wasnt frightened, more surprised: where did they go? so i started to look around the house. going through all kinds of different spaces from different eras of my life. bits and pieces. and i could hear some voices over the walls as well:
monkey: hey guys, where are you?
guys: hey come in, we were waiting-
m: i can't really- i have no-
g: -and there's some wine in the kitchen, feel free to go get some!
m: --no hands
they seemed completely happy and busy and so i thought perhaps i should just go and try to figure something out. so i set out to find my hands. and then there was this random stairs leading down- ooh a basement. and i stumbled onto... a hand.
i took a look at it and decided it wasnt mine. kind of bloody, once again, not gross, just a bit of dust and sticky bits. all shriveled up like raisins, quite closed however still in neutral position. looking really worn and old though. like the colour of one's finger when it's been wrapped around with tight rubber band- kind of waxy white. can it be possibly? nah.
so i came back up and looked for my hands while my friends were yelling across the wall (nice, i still couldnt open any doors because.. well i couldnt grip), then... morning!
without my hands, i will be quite useless i think. as a musician. as a person. i wont be able to do anything really would i. the typical joke i say- 'well, i will rent a car and drive it off the cliff,' even that wont fly anymore. no handless person will be allowed to rent a car- as even if rental companies may be willing to, i wont be able to sign the damned contract! ironic. i wont even be able to hang myself, as tying the death knot with no hands would be- well difficult, and if you ask someone else to do it, it just may be too.. obvious. har har har.
so couple seconds, minutes, who knows how long, wandering around with no hands.
im amused that i wasnt screaming or anything. should be more horror-flick ish no? but just... kinda dumb stunned. perhaps i am worried about the audition. may be i am feeling incapable. or my brain went bonkers for having some real REM sleep and threw every logic to the air and saw some incredibly odd scenario. sure, dreams may represent something but surely not all dreams can mean something all the time. there are some duds, like all things- margin of errors!
i have no idea where that thought came from but it did made me think about some other extended situations, including not having an instrument. it always have been such a problem whenever i was out of school. difficult. i speak with my hands supposedly. and not having the tools/instruments often made me think of 'having no hands.' as if i became mute because i am an amputee. weird isnt it? but since i do have some realistic access to two good instruments (thanks to the generosity of friends!!), i am sure it didnt come from the fear/qualm/anxiety of not having instruments at the moment (in fact, today was the first practice day since banff. sounded rather rudimentary and rough but if i do sound better tomorrow, it's all okay, i told myself, patting self on shoulder, with my own HAND!).
it does make me think about the possibility of losing a voice. losing the ability to express. whether it be through scribbles on a paper, on piano or another instrument, a simple act of touch and hold, to make a pot of tea to share, breaking a chocolate bar and offer to another person, opening the door to let someone in, folding paper airplanes, cutting bits of papers, fingers intertwined with another person's fingers in ease and resonance, to bid a temporary good bye wave-
not a real voice, but a figurative voice: my hands.
the one that lets me 'speak,' to 'discourse,' to 'articulate.'
hands, in my case, are much more vocal than my own 'voice,'
silly but real.
what do you have as your main 'voice' dear reader?
are your ears your voice- are you a listener/observer?
is your heart your voice- a sensitive soul?
perhaps through sounds- you verbalize, sing and converse?
do you speak through your eyes- visual communicator?
one like me- speak through hands?
what about hands- as of hands on the clock? progress of time? changes? and if there is no hands on the clock- how does one keep track of the subjective flow of time- life? no indication, no recollection, no references, just blind flow, like being pushed with the crowd in the mash pits of a punk concert...! most of the time, in english expression, no-hands usually is associated with something clever- like riding the bike with no hands, hand-free talking with bluetooth phone set, etc etc. as if letting go of the hands, or rather, making the hands an obsolete part of an operation/action, hence somehow better, talented or something. yeah- well, with no hands, you dont get to make that choice do you! you wont be riding the bike in the first place, more likely!
a slight fear in monkey head!
thank god i still have my hands!