Saturday, November 14, 2015

The Pilgrimage...

My friend Mary gave me a huge compliment last week. I still feel all warm and fuzzy just thinking about it. She actually visited and READ this blog. Then, (insert angelic voices bursting through the rafters singing Hallelujah) she told me she loved this blog and was a new fan. Maybe she will read my book someday!

Mary is preparing for a pilgrimage. Have you seen the movie The Way? It is a delightful film starring Martin Sheen, written and produced by his son Emilio. Martin Sheen's character Thomas walks the Camino_de_Santiago with his son's ashes. The film introduces us to interesting characters as Thomas walks through Spain on his pilgrimage of sorrow. A pilgrimage that Mary hopes to take as well.

After Mary made my day, I took a little pilgrimage of my own. A dark and frightening one. In my dreams. The human brain is so exasperatingly complicated.

1) Mary gives me a generous compliment.

2) I enter R.E.M. later that night.

3) I take a pilgrimage on the Merino de Sharon. Trust me. Danger ahead.

Here's what happened...

I was climbing a vertical stairway that hugged a sheer rock face. I was amidst a motley group of pilgrims, headed for the ficticious Merino Trail. It was an arduous climb. But I don't remember feeling tired. Hmmm. That's not like me. But that's the way it is with dreams. You're not really yourself. You are everyone and no one in particular. When my group of purgatory recruits reached the precipice, we started scaling the edge of the sheer cliff face. Horizontally. It was like we were stranded on psychotic, horizontal monkey bars. Just hand over fist to the left. Over and over. Hanging there. Falling was a real possibility. And it was a vertigo inducing 1-2,000 foot drop to our deaths. The scariest part was the bathrooms. Yes, they were there. Have you seen the tent that rock climbers attach to the cliff face when they need to catch some Zzzz's? That was what they were like. The hard part was the struggle to get in while gravity tugged at your legs. But I did. And the toilet was the size of a pear. That's when I looked down for the first time. Oh my God. It was like infinity. I did feel a modicum of safety on the platform. But it was a killer exit. I wasn't done. Not yet.

I don't recall the exhilaration of finishing the pilgrimage. But I or we did. The devil outfitters at the finish were filling an Olympic sized, blow up hot tub for us to revel in. So I guess it was a happy ending. Even the elderly lady made it. I think.

You might be wondering how I remembered my dream so vividly. Well, that's where my writing tip comes in. I keep a journal by my bedside for nocturnal inspiration. And you should too. There's also another tip I gathered from my nightmare. Wear a tether. In writing a tether might be reading as many books as you can, research and writing groups. Anything that will ground you and give you inspiration. 

Like dreams.

Lastly, you might want to take a pilgrimage over to Springtime in Magnolia for an A-Z book review.


DJan said...

I had a very vivid dream last night, too, and I remember that trick of keeping a journal by my bed. But I didn't do it and still remember it as though it really happened. I laughed at your description of the bathroom and the size of the toilet. Did you wake up knowing it was time to visit the loo? :-)

Linda Hensley said...

If life was always easy, would you enjoy the hot tub as much at the end? It seems like a promising dream. Good luck with your adventures!