Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Just as well. A realtic fiction by Bethany Armistead

Today I met a guy from a dream. I would say "or my dreams" but I don't even know what my dreams are, and chances are his is not in them. But he seems to be from a dream, or a story I've made up inside my head. I'll tell it to you now.

It was at a music festival. Scratch that, it was before. I met him on a computer in a hostel in Kuching, Malaysia. I didn't have much to say to him then, I was too afraid to answer his friendly queries with more than one syllable words and when he came up the stairs I ran away to my room. Unfortunately I was not fast enough and he caught me in mid-panic with his friendly hello. He was from Price Edward Island, Canada. He has a strange habit of never wearing a shirt, which I guess can work. And he owns a bag that looks like someone took a 100 year old rice sack and tied strings to it in a pathetic attempt at modernism, or I guess at making things look fringe, which it did. I saw him a lot at the music festival, he was up in front of an interactive irish clogging session clomping away with his two left feet to a different beat than the instructor, but he didn't seem to care, he was having fun.

But it was the real first, and last time I saw him that made the impression that brought me to write this.

It was Geordie Mackeeman and the Rhythm Boys, I was very excited. They are a bluegrass group from Canada, simple and nice people, fantastic fiddling, guitaring, everything. The Leader, I pressume Geordie was his name, wow-ed everyone with his lively tunes and his rubber legs that moved so fast it was hard to believe a person could be capable of such a feat. Anyway, I was at the front and as you might have guessed by now, I am a very sheltered, naive girl with a phobia or talking to people I don't know. But that sort of complicates thing for someone who's dream is to talk to people. And since going to this music festival I have had a fascination with the party people,the new victims of my hidden outgoingness. They always seem like they are having so much fun, dancing and laughing and singing out of tune. I thought that maybe if I had enough to drink that I would be like them too. I probably would have. If you can get inside this outside shell of fear I am actually quite a lively person. But that didn't end up happening. So anyways, I was there. And who could have shown up behind me but the CS Party Animals Here (other party animals welcome too). And inside I was kinda freaking out when the giant white CS Party Animals Here (other Party Animals welcome too) sign appeared in my peripheral vision. But suprisingly it turned out to be a good experiance for me, at least an eye opening one anyway. Although I still don't know who CS is, or what it stands for...

So this is where he comes in. You thought this story was about him . Well, it was going to be and still might end up being if I ever get to it. So, the CS Party Animals (etc) immediately start dancing start dancing, and the lady next to me (also a dancer but methinks not a party animal) dances (She was very good at dancing and a very nice individual as well, I am glad I randomly ended up next to her) and so did I, I who have vowed never to dance in public or dance at all. So to the twag of Geordie's fiddle, I look behind me, the general direction people's heads seemed to be turning at that time, and there is my guy again helping a malysian midget onto his shoulders. And I look at him, and he looks at me and I give him my biggest smile, for the sight is a cute one. (However, that midget ended up giving my alcohal and so as I write this my stomach feels kinda funny so I am thinking that wasn't the greatest thing ever for me to do.)

The lights were blue and he was blue too. And his eyes were blue and twinkled like blue stars lighting up his face. And a nice face did he have indeed: soft blue eyes, tanned skin, bearded stubble that framed his cheekbones, and tossled blonde hair. He looked soft. And in that blue moment he looked wonderful. His eyes so bright and his mouth half frozen in laughter, you know with the kind smile that shows both top and bottom teeth? That kind of smile, that real kind. I could have stopped that moment and replayed it again. But I didn't have too. I looked back at the band and then back at him and our eyes met again and our laughter and our smiles. I don't know what he had to smile at me for, but we smiled like we were both something each other enjoyed. Then the alcohal the midget gave me set and and I was dancing with the lady next to me, or trying to. I really am not much of a dancer. But faintly I was aware of his presence to my left. He was dancing too. Some weird elbow-above-head move that seemed to be one of the only one's he knew. Then he was jumping and kicking his feet around to the beat. It looked so fun, I wanted to join with him. I probably could have. But I kept my eyes rigidly fixed on the front, being intentional about not noticing him, although you can see how that worked. :P
For a time there were some swearing creeps that somehow landed behind me for a bit. That was scary and I remember trying to evaporate them away using only the power of my mind. And then he was behind me. Dancing, Dancing, Dancing, always dancing with his two left feet and his bizarre awkward looking moves. I had the feeling that when he was behind me his eyes were always on me, willing, waiting, watching for me to turn around and enjoy the fun he was having, but I never did.

It turns out he is from the exact same island as the band members were from and knew all the same people, even all their cousins and relatives, although he did not know them themselves. Every once and awhile he would yell out some Canada related comment that would make the preformers laugh about some Pub saluting them, and Prince Edward Island clam chowder, and Robin Mckinley. And he danced. But I had a feeling that unlike most of the crazy dancers he wasn't doing it because he was drunk and he could or using that as an excuse, he was doing it because he loved to have fun and that means dancing. Once he started clapping and I was tempted to turn around and ask if I could help him clap on beat. But i figured that would mean I would have to talk to him and we couldn't have that now could we?
Maybe why I was inspired to write was because of the contradictions going on inside of him, what to make of him I do not know. A crazy party animal, yet one who is safe. One with no laws or rules of any kind, yet with a dignity and a kindness. Silent when needed, but very very loud. He is a mystery to me and I do not know what to think about him. Probably nothing cuz nothing like this actually exists. I never spoke to him. He is just a guy that I saw, a guy in a dream I once had, a character in a story. He is that, but he also is no longer here to intrigue me., it's like I never knew him, which might be just as well.

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