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it's like a dream
Aug. 3rd, 2008 10:01 amI woke this morning to a room I did not know.
This is the opening line to the last official completed short story I wrote while at Clarion West, and this is what happened to me this morning.
It feels like a dream now, the sorority house, getting up in the morning and wandering through the maze to go to the kitchen for a cup of tea. My classmates wandering in and out of rooms, laughing, sharing jokes no one who wasn't with us will ever completely understand. It's the best dream I ever had and I wish I could jump back into it, but when I go to sleep that's not where I go.
***
I may be blogging about the post-Clarion West experience a lot. People blog about Clarion preparation and the class itself but people rarely talk about going home. I want to write about going home because this is how I move through to the other side. And I'll write about it in my fiction. I want to start a story right now, but there are other promises to keep.
Anyway, Rice tells me my breakfast is waiting. That's one benefit of going away for a while -- now he cooks for me ;). And it's hard to see the screen through the tears. I have never cried so much since I was a baby. I'm not a crier, but I just can't stop.
This is the opening line to the last official completed short story I wrote while at Clarion West, and this is what happened to me this morning.
It feels like a dream now, the sorority house, getting up in the morning and wandering through the maze to go to the kitchen for a cup of tea. My classmates wandering in and out of rooms, laughing, sharing jokes no one who wasn't with us will ever completely understand. It's the best dream I ever had and I wish I could jump back into it, but when I go to sleep that's not where I go.
I may be blogging about the post-Clarion West experience a lot. People blog about Clarion preparation and the class itself but people rarely talk about going home. I want to write about going home because this is how I move through to the other side. And I'll write about it in my fiction. I want to start a story right now, but there are other promises to keep.
Anyway, Rice tells me my breakfast is waiting. That's one benefit of going away for a while -- now he cooks for me ;). And it's hard to see the screen through the tears. I have never cried so much since I was a baby. I'm not a crier, but I just can't stop.
