Internaturally

Internaturally

Something is rumbling in my subconscious and I don't know what it is. I am having dreams that are not quite nightmares because there is no fear, just disturbing and graphic scenes that persist. I wake up with the covers falling off of my tiny twin bed, twisted around me and sweeping the ground, and I fall back asleep only to dream that I am not sleeping.

This is less disturbing than what I saw last night.

Last night I dreamed there was a young dead girl draped face up across a chandelier in the courtyard outside our kitchen. She had died of some illness; when Vicky got out her telephoto lense I saw that her skin was eaten by worms. We were taking photos because it was so bizarre. Her family put her on the chandelier as some sort of ritual and when the girl suddenly slipped she was hanging by her arms, so the family pulled the chandelier near the window to rearrange her. The family saw us watching and I wanted Vicky to turn out the lights in our kitchen but she wouldn't. It sickened and frustrated me because it seemed wrong. I didn't want it outside my window. I woke up with a sharp image of the girl in my mind and I felt so sad and disturbed. I woke up several times during the night.

This morning, I woke up early to go to school and talk to Justin on Skype. It is always good to see his face but is stressful wanting to be in two places at once. After we talked, I took a nap on the couch in the student lounge before the sculpture field trip at 1 pm. I dreamt that I woke up late for the trip. I was rushing around but couldn't make any progress because I had an armful of clothing that I kept dropping everywhere.

These dreams leave me exhausted in the morning. I walk around here feeling alone but independent, thrilled but strange. Saturday night a man followed me down a street and got very close to me; I could feel his proximity. As I turned around to glare at him he put his hand on my shoulder. I shouted "Va fanculo" at him, which essentially means go fuck yourself, and he laughed at me and said "Va fanculo te!" He left me alone after that, but I had mace in my pocket, so I did not feel too worried. Even still, I fumed all the way home.

It has been rainy all day and yesterday, but the field trip fascinated me and lifted my spirits. We went to Casa Buonarotti, a museum dedicated to Michelangelo. I saw his shoes that he never took off; they had formed to his feet and he was apparently a very small man. I also saw the first sculptural relief works that he did when he was somewhere between 15-17. I am amazed at the level of skill at that age; it is humbling. So too were his sketches and paintings. Every room was filled with work; my senses were overload. I had no idea how close I lived to Casa Buonarotti - 5 minutes, just down the street and around the corner.

Florence seems smaller and smaller every day. From a distance it seems vast, but I seem to see the same people every day, and they recognize me and say "Ciao, come stai?" I saw someone just Saturday who said, "I recognize you - from the market!" I saw him today and he acknowledged me with a ciao and a warm smile. It is preferable to those who catcall without knowing me. When they know me they seem so pleasant. I'd like to hang on to that notion.