Archive for March, 2011

The basement in particular frightened me.  My mother kept a lock on the basement door and locked it every night, as if we needed to make sure whatever was down there stayed down there.

The song Ghost* is not about my childhood home, but it did seem to fit with the video I took of the house during the final days as we were moving my mother out.  My mother died a year and a half later.

Journal Entry 10/26/07

In my dream last night I was at my mother’s house.  All the furniture had been moved out of the bedrooms and den.   I was going to be sleeping in the living room.  I was watching a show on PBS called “Thoughts of My Mother at the End of My Childhood.”  My mother was banging pots and pans around in the kitchen, grumbling about needing to sell everything and how unsafe she felt now that the locks had been removed from the doors.

I argued with her and got up to lock the front door, but she was right, the locks were gone.  Suddenly I was afraid to sleep in the living room.  It felt unsafe, as if someone would certainly come in and get us.

My mother went out the back door.  It was nighttime and I didn’t want her out there alone in the dark.  I quickly followed her out the back door.  Once outside it was daytime.  The backyard was still set up from the yard sale we’d held last year.  I looked in the garage. It was arranged like a showroom displaying my mother’s bedroom set.  The neighbors must think she’s crazy, I worried. 

Then I saw my mother in the backyard amidst all the  furniture, appliances, clothes, and dishes she had accumulated over the years.  She was furiously wiping down a place mat on a kitchen table.

“Stop it,” I yelled, but she kept cleaning, all the while mumbling about needing to sell everything.  .  .

 

* Ghost features Karen Mitchell on back up vocals and Glen Douglas on guitar

 

Mommy

Posted: March 24, 2011 in images, Light Phases, music

Sound collage of collected every day noises and video from my cel phone set to sparse  midi strings captures  an ordinary moment.

In my dream last night

Posted: March 24, 2011 in Dark Phase, Dreams

I was at a mortuary.  The funeral director showed me into a viewing room.  The room was  well-lit with pale yellow walls, industrial beige carpet and recessed lighting around the perimeter.  There were at least two doors into the room, and the main area was down two steps, like a sunken living room from a 70′s movie. 

The body was loosely draped with a white gauzy material,  presented in a large rectangular aquarium in the middle of the room.   Dark circles, like dried pools of blood, marked the eyes beneath the cloth.  Rats, mice and guinea pigs scurried around the corpse.  The funeral director explained that the deceased wished to be viewed with his pets so they could be with him one last time. 

Only a few other people stood around the aquarium coffin.  The deceased had first appeared as an adult, but  was now small, like a child.  I picked out the man and woman who were most likely the parents and I felt terribly sad for them.  And then the room was empty and the corpse boy began moaning and trying to get up.  Knowing his parents would be upset with me for letting the boy get out of his coffin during his funeral, I tried to quiet him.  I told him it wouldn’t be long now, he would just have to be patient until it was time to get buried.  Then I wondered if he had been embalmed. 

The Body