A Ghost in a Spaceship

The dreams started when I moved back home. I left the life I had known for a decade or more and ventured back home to a life I thought I knew. Being back here, I felt indifferent. I felt comfortable being in a world I had known for what feels like a lifetime ago but struggled with navigating the fact that this place never changed. Like a fossil preserved in time, everything seemed frozen, don't get me wrong, things had changed, however to a now outsider, the core of everything was so clearly the same.

My mother would remark on people or things, and I would bite my tongue or roll my eyes out of sight. I couldn't imagine being so upbeat towards obvious situations of complete human complacency. She said to me on the front porch, "You know Rachel and Jeff are back together. It's great they were able to work it out." Yes, it would be great if Rachel wasn't a raging alcoholic and Jeff wasn't an absolute narcissist. I can see these things now, my superpower as an outsider. Just a small example of what I grapple with inside my head, yet I say, "I know, that's great to hear." I stare off towards the barn into the distance on my parent's property. It's about forty acres, vast and sprawling, filled with many trees, animal pens, and a small lake.

Back home, I would concern my daily thoughts with just my own "well-being," I've come to discover I'm not sure what that is anymore. I was like a master potter throwing a wheel of clay, squeezing and manipulating it to be perfect, free of any imperfections. Eventually, I had imposed too much control on a naturally free substance. The next thing I knew, the clay had fallen apart in my hands. Just left with pieces and parts, a pile of thoughts and notions but no direction.

That's why I am here, back to Springfield, where I once called home. Now, I concern myself with other people's imperfections and unforeseen failures. I have to say it is a great distraction.

I stare out into the distance for what seems like forever while my mother spews more distracting information. "Honey, I'm glad you're home. I'm going to turn in for the evening." She pats my leg and kisses my forehead before heading inside.

I'm wary of the dreams that may come my way tonight. I so badly want to sleep. I need to rest my mind, but my dreams command me to do otherwise. I walk the tightrope between two lives, both I must reckon with in different ways. The more I spiral, the more trapped I feel and continue to lose my direction.

I stayed on the porch until night fell. I brought myself to bed, my room looking eerily similar to the one I had growing up. The very first night, I had a dream of a barn owl. When I was younger, I became fascinated with an old barn owl that had taken up residency on the property. I would look around the lake and in the trees for him every night. Searching for him kept my mind free, just as he was. I would imagine he would say, "come fly with me."

I slowly let my wondering mind drift off to sleep, feeling my breath and thoughts slow down. I can barely hear the sounds of outside creep into my room. Then I hear a muted coo of an owl. A whistling sound increases in tone and beckons me to follow.

I see the dark sky, smeared with wisps of clouds and mottled with bright stars. I feel like a ghost in a spaceship, floating alone. I suddenly feel that sense of falling, my body in bed catching itself. My neck aches, craning it down to see my feet standing on the ground around the lake, the water laps up onto my toes. I am in my white nightgown nothing feels cold and, the rocks do not hurt my feet as I crawl across the bank. The moon is full and acts as a spotlight. The whole lake illuminated. In the treetops, something catches my eye. It is the barn owl! He bursts out of the trees and soars into the sky. He flies across the lake and looks grander than ever before.

He soars looking for prey and flies with purpose. I gaze at him mesmerized, suddenly he spots me and we lock eyes. He sees me. I reach my arm out for him, he gently lands and whispers.