It was suggested to me that my last blog entry, the one about knickers, was a return to a core image of mine. And perhaps it is true. This remark made me start thinking, about the blog, my writing, why I blog and about fantasies. I realised that I have changed. At least my writing has changed. It started as a tribute to fantasies and fantasies that were joyful and good. The more I write and the more I allow myself my fantasies I seem to touch on darker things. I am not thinking of cruelty or wickedness but on more mundane emotions, such as loneliness and a sense of being abandoned or left out, being sad and upset.
My Imagination is like a big, blossoming, green and lush forest, full of great trees and winding paths. It is like something living, something immensely beautiful, the greatest film I ever watched, or the loveliest play. It is like fabulous music or brilliant books. It is colourful and alive and there is a heart beating in it. It is alive. Not all of my fantasies are sexual but sex is a part of life, a big part, and thus, it is prominent in my fantasies. Still I love my fantasy forest, my fantasy place. It has made my life easier to live and taken me through times that have been rough. That forest is me, where I live and breathe. It is where I live and that is sad in a way. I am an observer, standing by watching things go by. Still I have my imagination and it means everything to me.
It seems as some paths in that forest lead to darker places, remind me of childhood loneliness and upsetting things. Perhaps all that humiliation and pain in the fantasies, that I turn to something arousing, are ways of dealing with that darker side.
I am very sensitive nowadays, I cry easily for things I read and hear. A song (another song, yet another and a fourth...stop it now!) can send tears to my eyes and some films touch me immensely. If I have time to spend I watch the latest adaptation of Jane Eyre on DVD, over and over again. I cry every time Mr Rochester proposes to Jane and I suffer when her wedding is turned to a tragedy.
Still I will never lose the brightness and the beauty of my fantasies and I hope I will always return to the sweet delight of enticing fantasies.
Fantasies are the ideal place to explore all of yourself not only the sensual places but all that you are made of.
ReplyDeleteUs, your readers, enjoy walking the paths of your forest never quite knowing where they will lead.
Hugs always
Dove
Who am I to say -- but you seem to be opening yourself to memories, moods, a full palette of emotions. Accepting these vulnerabilities gives you access to your true self -- not a cartoon Janice, or a happy-face Janice -- but the real woman. What a privilege you give us, and what an honor. I will try to be as bold.
ReplyDeleteI kiss your hand.
Wystan E
Dove, a great big hug for you and thanks for those words. I agree, it is an ideal place.
ReplyDeleteWystan, I think you are right about opening myself. Still I hope I have never been a cartoon. I blush and curtsy as you kiss my hand and feel that the honour is really to be read by you, lovely readers.
Good post.
ReplyDeleteDear Brittany, thanks for the comment.
ReplyDeleteHugs
Janice