that I am rushing to somewhere, with a canvas bag full of books, a handbag full of stuff...too many handles & straps, & fast walk, gait almost a run. How am I doing so far? Am I rushing to somewhere important? The term is just a rush, of classes, different campuses, students eager to please, to write. But for now, I am walking fast in a crowd; some sitting on the edges & some standing..talking; few walking, perhaps a few walking. I am trying to squeeze through a space of the walkers & one's sitting on high, wooden stools.
The handbag strap caught on someone; being pulled back sharply & trying to dis-engage. The person has a goatee, some grey & white & black mixed in..thinning hair, relaxing posture; repose, really. He's smiling but not a lot. He's caught with the strap, or is it that I'm caught by him being attached to it. Not sure, but now I am unable to walk my fast walk, and move myself to wherever I am going. I have to stop, am I stopping or am I just in a limbo that only happens in dreams. Then again, the term has been on such a fast pace, I'm still not sure if I'm asleep..dreaming or awake...in a haze.
He seems amused and takes the strap away from his body to hand back to me. I like his relaxed aura and his amusement; but feel obligated to move on, to continue the fast pace and the frenetic movement of an energy that I'm not quite feeling. This frame freeze vanishes, and I'm on an escalator; yes, still bogged down with stuff and bags & books and too much weight. Weighted down and weightier than I've ever been, how is this happening; when did it happen. The escalator takes forever, I do have somewhere to be, somewhere where I'm expected. Expected to talk, to share, to entertain the students, the administration, the Department.
And my desires, my aspirations ..long forgotten. How do I return to the man with the goatee, on the wooden stool smiling with a healthy sense of self. How do I become more like him?
Moving off of the escalator, now in full head-to-toe sheer turquiose, light and billowy material; dressed in veils and golden coins and chains and movement is now with joy.
Dancing, moving, music, sheer-ness...not weighted. Hips gyrating and light, lightness...scent of the exotic..dancing. The man with the goatee, standing tall, watching and smiling as I dance. Oh, joy!