Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,
Jacqui
jacqui

Halloween and Girly-Goth Dreams



Well, it's finally here, the holiday we cherish above all others; Halloween! In just a few hours our home will be swarming with little people dressed as witches, ghosts, goblins, ghouls, fairy princesses, vampires, and all manner of fantastic things. As always I still have so much left to do, but I had such an intensely realistic, romantic, girl-Goth dream last night that I just had to write it down, and I figured that as long as I was going to take the time to do that, I might as well say hello to my favorite fellow journalists.

Beau wore his bunny suit again to school this year. This was one of the wisest costume investments I've ever made. He's worn this for three consecutive Halloweens, as well as at Burning Man. Only this year he's added a formal coat and tie. He surprised me last night by suddenly appearing in my room in full costume. He said, "I am the business bunny. I am going to get down to business." God, he's funny. I hope he's having a good time at school. Beau's in charge of the fog machines and spooky music so we haven't set any of that up yet. He'll do that when he gets home. As worried as I am about money right now, I still gave in and bought another fog machine. This one is a low lying fogger, somehow it forces the mist through ice-cooled air, which makes it heavier and causes it to hang lower to the ground. Might be spookier -- we'll see.


Tommy and Caspar in my bathroom last year.

We're moving the cats so that people can come in to the house without there being any danger of the cats escaping. They're curious about all of the lights, sounds and activities that are going on in the front yard and want to be a part of it, but there's no way I will allow them anywhere near the front door. I am extra protective of our cats on Halloween and don't allow there to be even the slightest chance of their escaping. I know just how evil people can be, today of all days, and I always ensure the safety of our beloved feline family by moving them to safer quarters. It's a huge hassle, but it's the only way we can have guests and enjoy ourselves while being certain that they are all safe from harm. Half of the cats go to the garage and the rest go upstairs to my room.

I still have to find cushions to put on the wrought iron sofa and chairs in the living room. I threw them away the other day thinking that they'd be easy to replace, but clearly this is the wrong time of year for buying outdoor garden furniture cushions. My Mom said she's go to Berks to see if she could find any for us. Isn't she great? If not I'll just have to cover all of the furniture with white sheets and pretend this is part of the spooky decor.

I wanted to find a link to last year's Halloween pictures so that I could share them with you, and to see what I was doing this time last year, so I went back a year in my journal and the only thing I wrote on Halloween last year was that I wanted sex and orgasms, too funny. Now that I've read this, and in order to preempt my ending up with this same lonely, end-of-a-big-night kind of feeling, I'm going to try to see if there is any way to work in some love before Scott scurries home to his castle. That's going to be pretty damned near impossible to do unless he manages to have more stamina than he has ever had around me before. He'd have to work an entire day at his firm, run the gauntlet of our long night of Halloween festivities, then manage to ignore the fact that we've stashed twenty black cats in my bedroom in order to keep them safe from evil, and still have enough energy left to want to make love. I think it'll probably be Hitachi and me, alone again this Halloween night, we'll see. I'll let you know if I get lucky ; )



Here's my entry and photos taken when we were doing the Halloween documentary thing last year.

Here's the link to last year's Halloween party pictures and journal entry.

My neighbor Caryn invited me to her annual pumpkin carving party yesterday, which was fun. She's so sweet to do this. I love her Father, her sister, her dog, and her friends. I should have put her dog Niki first, because Nikita is just about the coolest dog on the planet. Anyway, we had fun, and there were prizes. I removed my pumpkin from the competition because it was a pre-carved gourd that I bought on eBay -- I was just painting and glittering it, so it wouldn't be fair. I couldn't find orange though and it ended up being gold and I'm not digging this.

I helped Atra dress for her big Halloween party. She went as a Red Countess, which was really just a vampire without the teeth. I'm going as a fat corpse bride. Heh. We'll see. Oh man I so have to get going. Here comes the dream;

This dream is set in England or somewhere very like England in the mid nineteenth century -- I think. Now that I've fiddled around so much with cats and computers, and one super stopped up toilet, I've forgotten most of it. Damn, and it was so good. It was one of those rare dreams where you wake up sorry that you've woken and lay around for a while trying to recapture the feeling -- trying to return to the world of the dream. Sometimes it works for me. Sometimes I'll fall back to sleep and return to where I left off. I'm lucky with dreams. Dreams or nightmares, it's all the same to me, and I love them.

There's a kind of Pride or Prejudice feel to this dream. There is a Mr. Darcy type figure that I am deeply in love with, but I am less like Elizabeth by circumstance in that I am from a wealthy noble family as well. He is however, much wealthier, famous in his own way, a dedicated bachelor wanted by all the women. He is lonely, remote, brave and proper. He is impeccably groomed. He is darkly handsome and brooding, but with a sensitive interior he shows only in brief flashes to me. He is also deeply passionate and has slept with scads of eligible women who'd hoped to lay claim to his heart, but he has never truly given in, and he owns a castle, a real castle, with a moat, by the sea. He is, in short, everything you'd want in a prince, or everything you'd ever want to read about in a main male character in a historical romance novel, who has probably never ever existed outside the realm of fiction, or of some romance novelist's mind -- damn her, or him, or them, as the case may be.

Perhaps the reason why I find this type of man compelling is because in many ways this is an archetype for my father. My Father had black hair and blue eyes and was powerfully masculine and remote. He was wealthy, successful, and handsome with a passionate sensitive nature that he rarely showed anyone. He was fiercely loyal and a tremendous athlete. He could be reckless, wild, and carefree, but this was only when he drank, and mostly when he was young. He had the best sense of humour I've ever run up against, but it could turn and be quite stinging. He could be mean and he could be tender, mostly he was tender, but he was very shut down and hard to reach.

I always felt that we could have been closer but my Mother guarded him like a lioness and together they colluded in preventing us from ever having what I think of as a normal, healthy, father daughter relationship. Towards the end of his life, he turned to me for support. I seemed to be the only person in his life who was truly nurturing, and who he could trust and reveal his secret thoughts and fears to, but by then he was losing his mind and it was too late for me, not that I'm not grateful for that little bit of himself that he gave to me, but it certainly wasn't enough to fill this gaping ragged hole that so desperately needed a father's love. But this is another subject for another time, and it has already overshadowed my silly girlie fantasy of a romantic dream that is fast fading away by the minute.

In the dream I am thin and have a beautiful body, (not that my own body isn't beautiful to me, it just isn't beautiful by our model-perfect standards, and in the dream it's perfect, Adrian Curry perfect, which is probably why I had the dream to begin with, because as I fell asleep last night I was watching My Fair Brady). I wear the most beautiful clothing, silks, satins and lace, with high necks and bustles. Dresses that sweep the floor -- that rustle and swish as I walk. I am also much younger than I am now. I think I am about twenty-two or twenty-three. I have known this man all my life and have always known that I loved him and that he is the man for me. He is also in love with me, but he keeps dismissing these thoughts and feelings, because he doesn't believe that we are a suitable match, perhaps because I am younger, or because he has been holding out for so long. But whenever we are together, there is this thread of passion, intimacy and connection that beats between us. He sees it and so do I. He is more himself, and less guarded, than he ever is with anyone else.

Our relationship has been developing. We have kissed and it seems to be building towards my dream of our wedding and living happily ever after in his castle by the sea. I want him so desperately; not the castle, his wealth, and all the trappings, but him. I would run away and live in a cottage in the woods with this man. I would live in a cave with this man. I want to have sex with this man.

There is a book that we love and share a passion for. We have both been reading this book in secret and only just revealed this to each other. I think that this secret love of this author and his book binds us. It is a sign for me that we are indeed a matched pair.

I have come to spend the afternoon with him, but he is busy with business and servants -- giving orders and discussing things. We embrace and I am left on my own to wander his house for a moment. I am bored. I want to be with him.

There is a pond, a pond fed from a spring that is mere steps away from one of the many glass doors that are here by the North west corner of his home. I open the door and step outside. The water is calling me. I take off my clothes and drop them on the small muddy bank. I step naked into the warm water. It is muddy and smells of sulfur. I am amazed at my own boldness, swimming nude isn't done, but I am wild and childlike and I know that this is something he finds charming about me.

I swim about in the warm waters, hoping he will see me, but when he doesn't, I decide to venture further out. The pond breaks into a larger body of water that leads to the open sea at the northernmost edge of the castle. The house faces west towards a manicured expanse of lawn and gardens with farmlands beyond. The sea is to our back, to the east of us, or at least that's how it feels. There is a boggy, sparsely wooded swampland to the North. I swim out towards the less protected expanse of water. There are things bobbing in the water, frogs or turtles that may or may not be real. They seem to be tethered by strings as if they are buoys of some kind. I find them interesting and curious and play with them for a while. The current is stronger and more threatening here. The waters deeper and colder. I am a good swimmer but I sense the danger and head back towards the safety of the enclosed pond.

I swim back through the mineral rich pond looking for my man who should have followed me out and seen me by now, but he hasn't so I head into the moat that surrounds the castle where I have never swum before. It is deep and wide enough for three or four of me, with high stone sides. There is a drawbridge ahead of me that is rarely ever drawn if it works at all. I am enjoying being here but there is a darker and more frightening energy present in these waters. It is thick with mud and when I look down I can't even see my feet. I lay on my back and float, looking up at the bright sunny sky and the clouds above. It is a beautiful a day. I realize I shouldn't be here naked but I am having so much fun. I think that it is amazing that I am floating nude on my back in a castle moat, but other than the servants there is little chance anyone who could spread word of this and ruin my reputation might happen by. It is worth the risk, this wild freedom, this exhilaration that I feel outdoors without my clothing holding me down. But then I wonder how many people lost their lives here, what hideous things must have happened in these waters long, long ago, and decide to head back. I don't want to brush up against anything dead or dreadful by mistake.

When I reach the pond I see my lover has come to look for me. He is heading away from me, towards the swampy woods. He is concerned. I emerge from the waters naked and walk towards him. I am fully conscious of my beauty and power. He turns and sees me and is surprised and excited by my naked body. We embrace and it seems as if this might be it, the final seduction that he will be unable to resist, but before he gives in fully, he holds me away from him and tells me that this cannot happen. How could I have been so innocent and bold at the same time? What was I thinking? I felt certain that he loved me and would be unable to resist my offering myself so fully to him. I am wounded, embarrassed, devastated. I turn and run towards the house. I grab my clothes and instead of running around the edge of the pond towards the doors of the house, in a small act of defiance, I leap into the water drenching all of my clothing in mud as well.

Later, I am standing in one of the many marble hallways of his beautiful home. This one is by the front of the building, near where I had been swimming. There are big Gothic windows with dark elaborate woodwork frames. I have cut out photographs of all of the women he might be suited to and hung their faces from a string. He is standing a step above me, looking down at me with this bemused expression, as if he is tolerating a child. But I am deeply serious about this; In a great girlish act of romantic sacrifice I have brought my own dressing room mirror here to perform a prognostic trick. I believe that if I somehow shine my mirror towards his beloved face in a certain way, that the face of the woman he should select from these candidates will appear reflected over his in the mirror. When one of them does, I feel as if I have completed my job. I say, "There, it's done. She's the one. You're meant to be with her." I put the mirror down, begin to cry, gather my skirts up and run sobbing from the room. However sad I am feeling, I still know that we are meant to be together, and will be when he is done with whatever searching he still feels he must do.


All right, that's enough silly Gothic romantic rambling for one Halloween morning. I have errands to run, and so much Halloweening left to do. I'll check in with you later if I can find the time, and will of course take pictures.

Happy Halloween Hugs,
Jacqui

Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 10 comments