[identity profile] cabaretlights.livejournal.com


The Horror of Our Love
Artist: Ludo
Album: You're Awful, I Love You
Year: 2008
:This morning (cough, Thursday morning), I woke up with my heart racing, skin vibrating, probably a gasp, and tangled in my blanket -- moreso than usual. I did that traditional "calm down, you're okay" thing -- it was just a dream, one of those dreams that gets you so affected in your sleep that you wake up terrified.

I stared out at my window, trying to come down from that nightmare high. The tree outside has lost most of its leaves, and the air already smacks of November and winter -- how quickly this fall has gone -- and something sparked in me. A memory, maybe, a feeling -- full body, overwhelming -- of Waking Up. It's a feeling I don't get often, and have only ever really gotten in Rigaud and, on occasion, Claremont. That rush of so many memories, sensations, frequences, feelings (emotions, states of being), coming over me in this overall flood of something someone might call euphoria.

Christmas is coming, November is coming, things might not be perfect but I have lived so much, even though my experiences don't seem that way to anyone else -- my life has been so full, because it's been mine.
I'm not saying this wasn't influenced by Nothing, but then, what part of my life isn't immediately influenced by a really powerful book?..

As I stared out at the almost-naked branches rustling in the wind, looking forward to so many little things and so many big ones, flashes of my dreams came back to me: an airport, with Veronica and Chelsea, dashing from line to line with one of V's rats, holding it and wanting an animal so badly; various splashes of blood and unmade beds; and a scene I can't remember, but know it was beautiful, beautiful, heartripping, beautiful, and I sat straight up when I remembered this was the song playing throughout it.

Unless I hear a song in my sleep, I don't usually dream about music. But this song was playing, loud and clear and, as far as I remember, perfectly accurate, and in perfect accompaniment. I don't think it's a perfect song, but it works in what it tries to do: a love song for a monster and a girl -- and it works in that one perfect line: "The horror of our love / never so much blood pulled through my veins."

I listened to this song a lot at the beginning of October 2010, as I was trying to keep my head above first-year-teaching water. There was one particular evening when I took my iPod and a David Mitchell book out into the rain of Mile End, wandered the streets, felt so very much myself, as when a perfect book and music and moment collapse into one sensation. It seems simple, but how rare. And how beautiful that my sleeping unconscious created a similar situation for me, as October ends and a new season creeps up on us, and my excitement builds, as it always does for something new.

And maybe I woke up terrified, but more than anything, I woke up alive.

(...redundancies aside, of course).

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