The Dreams

Do you ever feel like your life is a show? Being separated from American culture, I am embarrassed to say that I cannot remember the title of this movie because in life, movie titles don’t actually matter. And while names like Ed Sullivan and Andy Griffith keep popping up in mind, I’m thinking of the movie with Jim Carrey about the man who is raised in a bubble as a 24 hour show. While my brain struggles for the title I can remember the movie very well. That’s exactly how I feel, except that in this scene I am the director, actor, producer, and writer for everyone involved. This carries with it several interesting perspectives as I am both completely immersed and completely detached. Although the very suggestion that I can be both clearly negates the completely part of those two statements.

These days the dreams are becoming repetitive. They are dreams about home that involve two of three things on a continuous basis: 1) teaching my family and friends Malagasy phrases. 2) eating 3) lace underwear. Not the most likely of dream combinations but trust me when I say that my creativity has come to all new heights in the last month, albeit subconsciously, to perfectly blend at least two of the three topics into one seamless transition. If you asked why I could only tell you what I have come up with (Ill limit this to the top five. There are many hours in the day and the first three are usually spent with a hot cup of olive tea and me sitting in the small warmth of the sun wondering what the hell was going on last night):

1) I am bored with the food here. Although I have recently added 5 jars of peanut butter and 4 cans of corn to my constant supply of food I am desperately bored with my meals on a daily basis. Thus I dream of fantastic extravagance or weird food experiments with parents. Salmon in any form, beef that has flavor, plump chicken cake/brownies, and other such fantastic things. Don’t get me started on Mexican food. It litters my dreams at least three times a week. I was able to find chicken pieces of a good size in market on Monday and made some skillet chicken with fried potatoes (serving as lunch and dinner) but its only in the big market otherwise I would be on a severe chicken kick. Added cow heart back into my diet for something new and gave a cow tongue to my dog, thinking maybe I would try it too. But, my own tongue threatened mutiny in the form of upheaval so I let Cleo feast while I stuck to my chicken instead.

2) I speak a lot of Malagasy. I’ve noticed, with a small amount of pride, that my language has gotten so much better. In my daily life I have stopped speaking English, with no classes, or fluent friends in town, my only language in market and around the house is Malagasy. My writing keeps my mind fresh on my vocabulary while some of my friends have complained of vocabulary loss. Luckily enough I have a lot of words I can lose before that point but I keep writing anyways as I find my inner voice chattering nonstop these days and my eyes constantly flashing towards my computer or journal. My journal is starting to lose room as I slowly fill up its pages and so I turn more and more often towards this outlet.

3) I miss nice underwear. Ok no joke. There are two things that, in my comfortable yet un satisfying life in the states, I could buy on a daily basis without flinching: necklaces and underwear. Why? I have no idea. Men have asked for years, and curious women have considered why it is that women are in love with cute and sexy underwear and the truth is this. We love wearing it for ourselves. It has absolutely nothing to do with you and while we are thrilled that you enjoy these things that is only a side affect. Now, granted, there are many of use that love the basics but even those women will reach out for the cute polka dots, animal patterns and fun colors to add to their collections. Living with the same 10 pairs in two colors for the last….year! (holy crap I’ve been here for a year) has done absolutely nothing for my compulsion towards dainty frills and every morning I find nothing at all intriguing about my first layer of dress in the morning. I dream about lace and colors and stripes and patterns and anything besides the same shades of black and periwinkle blue. And I have never in my life had to sew my bottoms. When you begin to set aside an hour in your week to mend your undies you lose all interest in them as attire and begin to see them along the same line as socks. It really is a sad business.

4) I am excited to come home. For those of you who don’t know, I will be more than likely extending my service for another year. I really wanted to contribute two full years to a community and I am in absolute love with the one I am living in so I am thinking of staying. I have until January to decide. On that note, Peace Corps gives me a month of home leave before my third year begins so that I can relax and restock and visit with my family. I would be lying if I said that didn’t make a difference in my decision process. And so I am wistfully, in my sleeping moments, dreaming about home. Sharing experiences, seeing friends, getting big enthusiastic hugs from long lost people, and enjoying what American life has to offer with a whole new perspective. And while, realistically, I may go a little insane from the back transition, I am looking forward to everything I know is out there and making mental plans to visit people, go diving, eat, go to the movies, see a mall, shop (for undies!), drop off souvenirs, and bring back yummy things from the states for friends and for my kids.

5) Last but not least I am overall extremely tired. And in my tiredness my brain is reconstructing my top three things that I think of in passing, on a daily basis. With a new puppy in the house, my school year starting very soon on the 12^th of October, and my project ideas running through my days, I find myself in bed by 7:30 and waking up at 6 with the puppy every morning. After a year of not sleeping an entire night my brain has adapted into auto pilot. When I add my kickboxing, ab workouts (first time in my life I’ve used a workout video but I love it!), gardening and daily house cleaning to keep away the tarantulas ( I repeat….TARANTULAS) I am f&^*ing tired every night and love the slightly uncomfortable albeit warm bed I can slip into every night. Then as my lights switch off my brain regurgitates the thoughts that had been pushed into the back of my mind everyday.

I may be bored with the food but there’s nothing to be done about it. I enjoy speaking Malagasy but remind myself to do my brain puzzle books to keep my English keen. I even speak to the dog in both languages. I hate my underwear but our local mall is located is located in South Africa and I still have a stubborn aversion to someone else’s used unmentionables. And the tiredness, well that’s only a frame of mind for the first half of the day and by the second half, well, my nightly routines kick in and there’s no time for tiredness until its done.

So since there is nothing to be done about all of these things, I, the director, decide to create a character with strong will and endurance to conquer the difficulties ahead of myself. I, the scene writer, decide to write myself into a long plane flight back to America (temporarily of course) and begin considering the range of emotion that I as an actor will be able to convey to myself the viewer. I, the wardrobe coordinator, scan the piles of used clothes constantly to outfit myself, the teacher, better in my environment and hold back the discouragement while hoping the camera catches the display of facial emotions that appear whenever a new hole is discovered in my dainties. I, the head chef of a one man team, decide to blend spices and flavors that I would have never considered in a direct effort to create something different. Instead of thinking what I want to eat I think of how I want to eat it and create a taste from there. I watch as I eat every creation, hoping to see that my work has paid off and that I have somehow succeeded in impressing myself. With every ruined creation however, I worry that I will be fired, and so strive to accomplish some great feat where food from my childhood is recreated in a completely different setting. And now, that this great gooble of garble is finally over, I can begin to shoot the next scene that stars me pouring over books of English lesson plans and creatively creating activities for my English club to start on the 20^th. I haven’t written the script yet but I have told myself that more than likely we will be relying on the soundtrack for noise as my part will be most likely silent.

Scene 9,946, take 1.…Action!