It’s random day, which means I’m supposed to give you little snippets of randomness to confuse your brain’s desire for chronology. But I must confess that I’m getting that antsy feeling I get sometimes. So, give me some room, I’m going to vomit my feelings onto the internet.
When I was younger, maybe 11, I had a dream about grass. That sounds mundane, but it was wonderful. It was this infinite field of tall, beautiful, green grass. And you know how tall grass is usually itchy against your skin? Not this grass. It was cool and soft. This sky was bright blue with just a few clouds, and even though it was clearly a summer day, I didn’t have to squint when I looked up. It was the perfect temperature. Warm, but with a little breeze that was just a couple of degrees cooler that would sweep in every once in a while. When the wind blew, the grass bent just enough so that I could see the tops of little pink flowers that were just a tiny bit shorter than the grass, and I could smell the flowers on the breeze. It was a wonderful dream.
If I had to depict my soul visually, I would try to recreate the grass field in that dream.
But, every few months or so, the breeze stops. The sun gets brighter. My soul becomes stagnant and hot and squinty. And when that happens, I get antsy. I start going for long drives on two-lane roads and I roll my windows down when it rains. And something kind of weird happens. The power lines on the side of the road start to look like giant electrified fences, trying to keep me in. So I drive farther.
It seems that this time has come again.
In the past, when I’ve gotten this feeling, I would usually quit my job. Which brought about problems of its own, certainly, but I felt a little freer. But, as an official grown up who has business cards and obligations, I can’t do that now. So instead, I’ll just dream of the day I can quit this job, because I’m making far more money as a writer.
And I’ll drive. And hope for rain.