When I was searching for some documents last night, I found something that I had forgotten.
It may not look like anything special, it’s just a drawing of a map that looks pretty crappy because I am not good at drawing. I don’t even know how old I was when I did it, probably around 15.
Others may not see anything on that map, but when I look at it, I see everything. I see the people, I see the park, the bookstore, the lake and that ruin. The old library, that little cafe by the lake, that place under the tree where he met Death. How beautiful it was when everything was covered with snow. That small apartment in that one building at the top. That mysterious encounter that one night when it was so hot.
It’s all in my head, but so much changed over the years, maybe I should draw a new map.
I put a lot of work into it back then, I remember what I saw in my mind. And it stands for so many things. It stands for my desperate attempt to escape reality, for my inability to finish things, for a time where I was all alone and everybody hated me. It’s so much more than just a drawing on the wall.
He is sitting on a park bench a few hundred meters from home. It’s windy and not too cold which isn’t unusual for early fall in this part of the world. He is looking out to the ocean beneath the cloudy sky and thinking about what just happened. Thinking about the things he learned not half an hour ago. He learned the truth. At least part of the truth because there is still a lot he doesn’t know and he has a lot of questions. He’d have to find the right time to ask them. Right now he doesn’t know how he feels about it all. Is he confused or angry or just surprised? One thing he knows for sure is that he wishes he had never heard it. What he was told could change a lot of things, could change how he feels about certain people. Or maybe it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change the past so why would it change the present? The wind is getting stronger and it is getting late. It’s probably time to go home. Home to her…
What a boring weekend. I feel like I have a lot to write about but I just can’t put it in words. The situation at work is still the same, though I heard some rumors that might shake everything up and I mean like an earthquake. Anyway, I’m glad that I have a 3 week vacation in a week, I really need that. I am so exhausted that I can’t think straight anymore. The happy place in my head is completely confused, I can’t really describe it, things change every day on the island and that’s never a good sign.
And just yesterday I was reminded of my fear of conventions. It’s not meeting the actors that I’m afraid of, I can deal with that. It’s the crowds. I can’t remember any convention where I didn’t end up crying because I just didn’t feel comfortable at all, I never fit in. And that leads to hating myself again. Saturday nights are the worst. There’s the parties and everyone’s having fun and I can’t because I’m completely paralyzed. It’s like that for every day of the convention.
Also, another hellatus has started and we still don’t know for sure if we’ll get a 7th season. waiting sucks.
…it’s Sunday morning and they are standing in the kitchen, holding on to each other tightly. He is enjoying every second of it. He thinks it’s the best birthday hug ever. Everything around him is gone for a moment, there is just her and her warmth and her love. For this short moment everything he has the feeling that everything is perfect, all the pain is gone and all the horrible memories forgotten. He wishes he’d never have to let go…
Today is the birthday of the person who inspired my username, J. MacLean. He is in my happy place. In fact, he is the one there who’s got the most of myself inside him. And he is a big part of me. It’s not the anniversary of the invention of my happy place or the invention of that character (he wasn’t invented, he was just there one day), it’s just the day he was born in that universe, he told me. Anyway, happy birthday to you, J.
P.S.: I’m not as crazy as I sound.
Last night I had very strange dreams that I actually remember for the first time in a long time.
Of course I don’t remember everything but there are something details that I can’t forget.
I was in a place or in a world that was the world of the past, at least it seemed that way. It was the 80s or 90s or something. A lot happened, I only remember random images from the first part.
Later I got to a building, an old building, and went inside. There was a lot of red and yellow, and there was Lucifer. I wasn’t exactly scared because I knew how to defeat him. We fought and I think I was able to put him in a fiery barrel and stabbed him with an iron crowbar. But somehow I knew that I didn’t really kill him, I only killed his vessel and after a few seconds I realized that he would take Adam as his new vessel and be stronger than before. So I left the building. I got to some kind of store and there were lots of old keys, they were actually buying keys and the shop owner was someone from my happy place. She wanted to buy old keys from me but I didn’t have any but I remembered the apartment I grew up in and tried to get there to get keys. I went into my father’s old bedroom to the laundry baskets and there were some bundles of old cloth. I don’t remember if I found the keys but I found Dean’s shirt and something was wrapped in it. At first I wasn’t sure if it really was that shirt, but then I knew it. I just couldn’t explain how this shirt could be there.
There was a lot more to that dream than I can explain, it’s really difficult to put those images in words.
It was the shirt he is wearing in this picture:
I wonder what it all means (probably nothing).
… she is sitting on the floor, leaning against the hotel bed thousands of miles from home. It’s dark. She did not turn on the lights and it’s raining outside. The sky is clouded and the only sound she can hear is the sound of the pouring rain. There is nothing else. The weather is reflecting her mood, she would start to cry any minute. She misses him so much and it hurts. She promised him to be strong, to enjoy her stay as much as she can, but it’s so much harder than she imagined. It’s almost like she left part of her soul behind. The rain is getting stronger. She’d be away from home for 3 months but they feel like an eternity, an eternity without him. Tears are coming to her eyes as she is staring at the wall thinking of him, trying to remember his voice, his eyes and his touch…
Whenever I clean my apartment I stumble upon old notebooks and folders with notes for my “happy place”. I never threw any of it out, I’ve kept it all. Every single note since I was 13 or 14. Sometimes I take the time and go through them to rediscover ideas and memories. Most of the time I’m amazed by how stupid some of those ideas were and it’s really weird to look at all the unfinished lists I made and the maps I drew. Yes, I drew maps of the imaginary towns. They weren’t good maps, I am not a good drawer, but they were colorful and they were mine. No one else could see what I saw in my head. No one else knew those people. I used to change the premise a lot. Probably because if my own insecurity, I didn’t know who I was and I didn’t know what I want, it was different every day. Sometimes my happy place was in the future, sometimes on a starship out in space, in the future, in a big city, in a small town, in a castle, the names of the people changed, their jobs and relationships changed. I had a good time making it all up, it was way better than reality.
There aren’t a lot of changes nowadays. I think I’ve found the perfect premise. Most of the time at least, I still switch sometimes, but there are only 2 or 3 different settings where there used to be around 20. I am not even sure how it all started, it was just there one day. And the characters have grown with me. Back when I was 13 the characters were super-human, no flaws with perfect lives. It’s not like that anymore, they are human now, more real.
Sometimes I wish others could see and know those people too, and I try to let them have a glimpse of that happy place (on this blog) but most of it remains inside my head and that fantasy will die with me one day.
…she is sitting in her study and it’s raining outside. The sky is dark, almost black and it’s pouring. She can hear thunder in a distance. There is warm light coming from the lamp on her desk. She is staring at the computer screen, trying to think of the right words. The novel she is writing is almost finished. She just has to write a good ending. As she reaches for the mug with hot tea she hears steps in the living room. “It must be him.”, she thinks. He is taking a seat in front ofthe piano in the living room and starts playing. She doesn’t recognize the song but it is beautiful. The music is carrying her thoughts and after a while the words are flowing and she is writing the perfect ending…
…he is running. He doesn’t know where he is running or what he is running from but he is scared. Everything is white and cold, the walls are bright and of pure ice. He is wearing white clothes. He keeps running, turning right and left in this icy maze of confusion and fear. He is heavily breathing in the cold air, sometimes touching the walls. He can’t hear or see anything, not even his own relfection in the ice. There doesn’t seem to be any way out of the maze. He doesn’t stop running and never turns back but he just knows that there is something after him. Something dark. Nothing but white and bright ice in front of him, he is completely lost. And suddenly he reaches a dead end, now there’s no escape. He’s turning around slowly and there’s this dark shadow. It’s coming closer and closer very quickly. He is terrified. He wants out of there, doesn’t want the darkness to touch him but it is too late. Pressed against the wall he has no coice but to let it get to him. And then he wakes up. Sweating and out of breath…