Daydreams during a Nightmare

My daydreams have been hard because I have been stubbornly and steadfastly dreaming of non-pandemic worlds and ohhhhhh I just figured it out, shit.

My daydreams gotta be realistic.

Like, even the magic ones follow a canon I've designed over the last two decades plus of dreaming. This is why I know I can keep myself from developing serious crushes on people --if I know you are Unavailable, I won't ever daydream of you, and therefore I won't ever build that kind of fondness, which is sorta critical for actual relationships and stuff. (Yes, if you have ever dated me, there are stories in my head about you, somewhere long ago and far away.)

Dreaming of a world that is not in the middle of a pandemic, that is not freaking out and breaking down, that is not starting a racial revolution...that is not realistic. This is the world I live in, this is the world I have, so this is the world I must dream in.

But I don't _want_ to, and above anything else, my daydreams are designed to be something I _want_. Even the weird twisted bad ones full of vitrol and harm are things I want to think about, in their own fucked up ways --there's safety, yanno, in dreaming Bad Things within a mind that can decide what happens next.

And since I don't want there to be a pandemic, but because I can't dream without it, my daydreams -for months now, and this is a thing I do to put myself to sleep, to keep me company on bike rides, middle of the day nothingness- my daydreams are lackluster. Trying too hard to have something just for me, and it all falls flat.

I'm pretty sure this post is not looking for solutions. Sympathy is great, and your own stories about how you relate to your own daydreams. (I would never dare to ask the specifics, nor do I predict you'd ask for mine.)

I love you,
~Sor
MOOP!

Storm childe

There is a thunderstorm and I am happy.

Some years ago, Tricky Pixie played at New York Faerie Fest, and I went to go see them. I got in a car with a complete stranger and we drove five hours to camp in the middle of nowhere upstate New York with a few hundred more strangers and then I spent three days dancing and building and working and helping and generally enjoying myself.

It absolutely bucketed rain, and the site was alongside a beautiful river and literally everything was made of mud. I have an exceptional picture of thick grey-clay glooped up mud sprinkled liberally with glitter which was the quintessential faerie experience that year.

But nevermind rain and mud, I still really enjoyed getting to dance to s00j, I just had to be a little careful about slipping, it happens.

Today has been a thunderstorm, and I went to the back porch to watch a moment. The moment did not go long before I realized it was calling and I put on a proper skirt and grabbed my bluetooth speaker and then it was time to dance. I was smart enough to grab a towel, I was not smart enough to leave it in the back vestibule instead of on the back porch, and the storm was wonderfully wicked.

I have started referring to dancing as "the opposite of dissociation" and it's very very true. This is not universal of all dancing --I can and do dissociate during dances with other people. But I don't go away during my own dancing, I simply can't. If I am dancing by myself and for myself then I *must* be present. Were I gone, I would not have it in me to dance.

It is very very good to be barefoot on grass (dodging the fallen holly leaves as best one can, but pain is human too), soaked to the skin, hearing music you love played over the pound of the rain and the crack of the thunder.

I am very happy right now, despite it all.

~Sor
MOOP!