Bird’s eye view

Last night I dreamt K.C. was driving a VW microbus and I was in the passenger seat. A middle aged tall and lean man, rough around the edges, was running down the street chasing us. I said to K., “He is going to catch us!” She was really annoyed with me for being afraid of him, and responded “He has the right to live.” He grabbed on to the bumper of the car, and slalomed behind us. Then she lifted the bus up into the air and we were flying above the streets. We saw the landscape and little fields below, the rooftops, roads, hills and driveways. 

A bird’s eye view is one we need to keep in our dreams, and also our waking thoughts. As the corona virus barrels through town, lifting off and landing, waiting for the human touch so it can do what it is designed to do, some die, some recover, some think they are immune, some are scared shitless, some ignore it completely and walk around in oblivion, some are creative, some bake, some knit, some get teary, some dance in the kitchen, some call their friends, some defriend the weak links, some visualize a better world. We are in a lockdown, and also a moment of transition. When we reopen our front doors and walk back out, it will be into a different world. It’s really easy right now to drill down into the worst fears and thoughts and linger. Some people right this minute are living in hell, in a war zone, in pain, in fear. For those of us in the comfort of home, with the worst case scenario at much more than arm’s length, our job isn’t to conjure up and replay on repeat the horror. Our job is to design the next step. I am asking myself what it will be.

Photo by Dave Cleaveland.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s