I had a dream last night that I was watching an old boyfriend play the piano.
He was on a high school-ish stage, playing something dramatic and complicated, from one of the white wigged composers.
And as I stood there listening, I remembered something – and even though I was dreaming, it was a real memory.
Of how I loved to press buttons when I was little – elevator, TV, but mostly – typewriter.
I would put paper in our fancy electric and punch the keys wildly and without stopping.
Having no idea how to type or where the letters were, having nothing to say.
Or rather everything to say, but no means to translate.
Just craving the feeling of my fingers racing across the keys, breathless with my need to put
my thoughts, my stories, my brain, my heart, my love, my self…down on paper.
And I woke up this morning, delighted.
To have remembered – both the dream and the memory.
And to have made the memory come true.
And to know that this is how it feels to love you.
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How wonderful! I used to LOVE typing on my mother’s typewriter! It was so satisfying. Now I know why! Hope the rest of your day turns out as great as your morning :-)
This is beautiful.
When I read it I felt like someone had given me a present. Thanks.
.-= Beth´s last blog ..Where Should Your Organic Dollars Go? =-.
My thought when reading this is “God does give us the desires of our heart”. What a blessing you have!
.-= Sue Miley´s last blog ..Trust: Mother Teresa’s Prayer for The Clinger =-.
Wow! Fantastic writing. A true joy this morning to read!
Yeah! I remember banging on the piano in the same way, then on the guitar. No concept of how to communicate musically, but subconsciously knowing that someday THIS is how I would communicate. Thanks for sharing. I’ll be Bach.
.-= Richard´s last blog ..Your Sole Purpose Is Your Soul Purpose =-.
I love it when a happy memory sneaks into my consciousness. And to have that tied in with a dream is fabulous! Yay for you!
And double (triple, quadruple) Yay that you are doing exactly what you love! May we all be there one day.
Hugs and butterflies,
.-= PicsieChick´s last blog ..It Holds Me…. Hostage =-.
Writers have out-of-body zen moments every time we’re in out stride, enjoying the tactile sensation of the keys beneath out fingers and being in our own special zone. Your post capture the sensation perfectly. Did you wake up feeling refreshed revitalized? It reminds me of a beautiful simple dream I had about planting seeds as a child bathed in golden light. It was a comforting memory I wanted to wrap around myself like a soft security blanket.
.-= Van´s last blog ..Sea, Sun, & Vintage Thrifted Finds =-.
I was just talking with my daughter about starting both of us on piano lessons. I once played, but no longer remember how to read music. It’s weirdness that it all left me like that. But there’s something about making music that is very similar to writing.
.-= Alisa Bowman´s last blog ..How to Tell if Your Relationship Can Be Salvaged =-.
Now, THAT’S love of writing!
To all of you beautiful and courageous commenters – I changed the last line. This is what it was supposed to be…and, for some reason, I couldn’t pull the trigger, so I changed it.
Then realized that was ridiculous. THIS is what I wanted to say. This is how it goes.
This left me breathless.
You should seriously consider submitting it to indieink.org.
.-= Thinkingtoohard´s last blog ..Bent is beautiful: More internal empowerment =-.
I adore this. Thank you.
.-= jules´s last blog ..Why Aren’t You Famous? =-.
the simplicity and elegance of this is remarkable.
.-= ed´s last blog ..Tough Love =-.
.-= Andi´s last blog ..Sex and The City Paris =-.
Nicely done. I was almost sucked into your dreamy, romantic nostalgia too.
When I was a child I used to sit in front of my dad’s electric typewriter, turn it on and roll a piece of clean white paper onto the carriage. Then with the dull hum of the Selectric just barely vibrating my fingertips, sit there motionless with my hands on the keys.
“What are you doing?” my dad asked.
“I’m being a writer.”
.-= Siddhartha´s last blog ..Most Criticism is Unjustified; Different and Weird Are Okay =-.
Siddhartha – I love that.
This is amazing!!! Incredible writing….WOW!
Beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
I took hydraulics with a chick named Kendra.
She liked to press buttons. Like, in the hydraulics lab; big noisy machines. Most inappropriate. But that’s how she rolled.
Later, she got her lesson on bulk modulus at one of the local quarries. Water is incompressible from 135 feet. Lucky girl. Walking around in a barrel cast for a few months beats spending life in a wheelchair.
I think she liked that breathless feeling, too. Pushing random buttons, just to see what would happen. Jumping off of high places, just to feel the wind in her hair.
Somehow, we seem to lose some of that along the way. Not sure how, not sure where.
I’m off to push some buttons.
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I like the last line and I’m glad you kept it.
I love how dreams seem like reality the following day, as if you have actually saw the person, the feeling it entices.
Typing keys of a keyboard sometimes to me is like composing music for the deaf.
.-= julie ~ jbulie’s blog´s last blog ..5 reasons writing a blog r.cks. =-.