Who are you

Erica struggled in her sleep, tossing, and turning, as she waged a literal war in her brain, her dream came alive so vividly, but she was completely in control of the wicked masterpiece unfolding in her slumber. The killer in her first three dreams had turned into a talking barn owl that had much to say about how Erica was living her life. She was not doing anything wrong, per se, but she was not exactly excelling, either.

Her skin stretching out of the t-shirt armhole glistened in the sun as she stood in front of the uninspiring window. How would she prepare for the day ahead? With few friends close (or in general) and little resources for material goods, all she could think of was the shimmering ink on the pages spread before her. How could people not enjoy writing on paper any longer? The modern age had skewed people’s minds in many ways. Just the other night, her two colleagues had been arguing about what food was natural when deciding what to feed the local fox. Jim protested that Juan shouldn’t give him leftover beef stew, arguing that it was not organic, and yet he set out french fries from the restaurant every other night. It was amusing, as they were just trying to not cede control of one little thing, in this vast world. Sometimes, the universe did not make sense, Erica mused. But how could it, really? It was immense and unknown, luminous, and engaging at times, at others, a huge, dark void. Which did explain the tide of human emotions and experience. The only time Erica ever felt that she seriously got respect, was when she gave papers at academic conferences, where she paid money to make people listen to her. In a sense, scores of well-respected businesspeople were only respected after they spent money establishing their business. How many poor people actually garnered admiration from others, she thought? Ghandi, perhaps, but it was doubtful he was without money; he just wore simple garments and strived to live a non-material lifestyle. Erica knew she did not do as well as she would like to lead a moral lifestyle. On occasion, the f word flew out of her mouth, and her temper could flare, if she was set off. But overall, I am a good person, she consoled herself. I am, and I become a better person every day.

She finished drafting her paper and moved on to work on her book that she had been working on for three years. It was a children’s book that she was enormously proud of, but when she lost the template she had been creating online, it was a setback that threw her for a loop. At times, she worked for hours, and then she would go two weeks without touching it. It was not that she wasn’t motivated or full of creative influence; even the French professor said her landscape architecture drawings were a bit naïve, but in fact, very charming and showed promise. “Well, that degree didn’t work too well,” she muttered to no one in particular. Many times, her hands flew off the paper, and other times, it was more of a struggle. It did not help that she had to have eye surgery in a month, but she still muddled along. No, she blamed her failed marriage to charming Egyptian man that was too narcissistic for his own good. She had hoped that it did not really count against her, as they did not have a real wedding, like other unfortunate souls who didn’t have the time or money to follow this crucial step. This was one of the most important things in life, to Erica. What girl didn’t dream of her perfect day, awash in flowers, friends, and the fulfillment of finding the one true love that you were meant to be with, in her mind, forever. Many marriages ended in failure, but Erica was not to blame for the disenfranchised people pleaser that her soon to be ex-husband was. He thought more of his family than Erica, and he let her know it at every turn. But like her soon to be published book, she was turning a new page, not to a new life; you only had one anyway, but to a more promising and happier situation that she would not accept less than brilliance in.

She strolled out of the wooden cabin that she had been having such nightmares in and headed down the path to go to work. It was a crisp, wintry morning and the sun did not help lessen the dampness she felt in her bones. She was excited because the whole crew were going to play pool tomorrow on everyone’s day off and have lunch in the nearest town. It was no easy task, because they had to take snowcats halfway to Bend and then switch to one of the two employee trucks to finish the journey. Usually nothing exciting happened, except an overheated transmission on one of them, which caused a half hour delay when this happened. There was not much wildlife in this gorgeous mountain area, probably because they were well hidden and steering clear from people and the nosy snowmobiles. Albeit their favorite fox showed up to see them almost every day. At any rate, she enjoyed feeding the mountain birds in the morning and then struggling through the day with her office and physical work at the lodge. Even though she was not especially fond of the loud machines and even more boisterous owners, she was happy to be working and not getting too scathed emotionally or physically by it. “Just wait til tomorrow, she excitedly thought. It will be an enjoyable day and a wonderful week.