Meet "Fly"

I'd like to present to you an opportunity to meet my cartoon alter-ego.  His name is "Fly."

Why mention him?  Well - when I woke up this morning, my mind was bursting with childhood and adolescent memories.  My dreams were bittersweet, a collage of the many different places I've lived.  I've moved a total of twenty-two times in my 31 years thus far.  Sometimes it was just down the street, and twice it was nearly 3,000 miles.  Along my travels, my creative alter-ego has always tagged along.  Here he is: 

I've always enjoyed putting my mind to creative use, whether it be in the form of poetry, photography, drawing, and even electronic music.  In fifth-grade during an after-school program, I was doodling with some crayons in the cafegymnatorium (an Urbandictionary term for a combination of a cafeteria, gymnasium, and auditorium).  I think I would have been about ten years old.  At that time, I loved drawing goofy cartoon characters.  Bursting onto the paper, the world witnessed the birth of an unusual new bird: Fly.  Okay, so that's a little dramatic. 

I wish I kept the original drawing of Fly.  What I can tell you is that he matured over a few years, subtly changing, as I did the same in my youth.  The above drawing, which I just did today, is pretty much what Fly has looked like since I attended high school.  I don't know what kind of bird he is.  Maybe an experimental cross-breed between a peacock and a chicken?  He has always worn something resembling a target on his belly.  His hair and feathers are typically flamboyant and blue, though he has occasionally been dyed a different color, depending on my mood.  The expression in his eyes is generally of an acute alertness, frequently bordering on the panicked "deer in headlights" look.  He is precariously balanced on two little stick-legs.  He has wings, but despite his name, I'm not really sure he has the ability to fly.  Perhaps a few feet in the air for a short distance?

Fly was featured in comic strips that I created when I was in middle school.  He hung out with a turtle sort of friend, though I don't know if his friend ever had a name.  I've sometimes drawn Fly on chalkboards in classes before teachers arrived.  He is, in essence, my companion of imagination. 

I guess if I were a bird, I'd want to be like Fly.  Because I know I'm one strange bird, which is just how I like it. ;)

Right now, I kind of feel like a kid again.

Bad Dream: The Tractor-Trailer

It's not that often that I remember my dreams, but as my sleep was interrupted around 1:00am in the morning, I vividly recall in detail this particular bad dream.  It was one of those dreams that feels very real, as I was experiencing a great deal of anxiety in the dream and even upon waking up.  I figured I would post it here on this blog while I still remember it in such detail (then hopefully, I can go back to sleep in peace!):

I was at my parents' house and was just saying goodbye to my dad.  I had rented a tractor-trailer, though no one I personally know seemed to be aware that I was doing this, including my dad.  As I'm driving the tractor-trailer alone, I come to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel (if you're not familiar with it, it's an expansive bridge/tunnel connecting Hampton Roads to the Eastern Shore of Virginia).  Except in this dream, there were apparently a series of stairs on the roadway of the bridge-tunnel that you have to carefully drive your vehicle down.  Fearful of the potential dangers of driving a large tractor-trailer down a series of stairs on a bay bridge-tunnel, I slowed down and cautiously moved downward.  But apparently, I wasn't cautious enough, and the tractor-trailer overturned to its side, crushing other cars in the process.  I'm physically fine, but I see someone trapped in the car immediately next to me but can do nothing for them.  I call 911, my voice shaking, to let them know I've caused an accident.  They keep on telling me to calm down.  The dream skips here, whereupon my father enters the scene to pick me up at the bridge-tunnel.  He tells me he assumes it's a mechanical problem with the tractor-trailer and that it'll be okay.  Then he nonchalantly asks: why don't we go to the Outer Banks of North Carolina and relax for a vacation?  I agree to do that, but I can't shake the lingering feeling that I'm the direct and sole cause of that massive accident.

That's when I woke up.  What a silly dream!  It's nonsensical, but it's funny how we can imagine it to be so vividly real as we experience it and even for a minute or two after we wake up.  I'm not really sure what the dream means, if anything. 

On that note, I'm going to try to go back to sleep!  Feel free to laugh, process, or wish you had done something other than read about a dream! ;-)