Think Twice Thursday: My Art, My Messenger

(examining the past to understand the present)

ART AS REVELATION

(a dream, a poem, a message)

This morning I woke up, grabbed the pen and paper I keep next to my bed and immediately jotted down the tanka below.  The poem "came to me" in a dream last night.  In said dream, my mother was digging a hole in which to bury the following items: my journal, my birth certificate, a photo album and unknown internal organs kept within a jar of formaldehyde (uterus maybe?).  I tried to stop her, but I was too weak (or she was too strong) to wrestle the shovel from her hands.  I tried to yell, but discovered I could not speak.  It felt as if I was suffocating.  That is when I opened my eyes, sat up and out came...

Kind of a morose way to start the day I know.  But if you regularly read my blog or follow my tweets, then you may remember that I am in the process of locating the person for whom this poem is undoubtedly intended, my father.  As discussed in a prior entry, I have never met him. My family including my mother, refuses to divulge the details of his life, past or present. However I have decided to secretly track him down. And yesterday I began my search by contacting the International Soundex Reunion Registry.  Step ONE.

So more than likely, my dream and the poem are some small manifestation of all the anxiety, anger, fear, confusion and bitterness that I feel both toward the mother I know and the father I don't.  It is as if my subconscious mind somehow climbed to the forefront to warn me, to remind me to proceed with extreme caution.  I am appreciative of the message. I am grateful for the mediocre art that delivered it.

And I know that I am opening a door.

Much love,

-V.D.