Inspiration Returns

For the past few weeks, I’ve felt a lack of inspiration in my life. School seems to have taken every bit of life out of me, which has resulted in putting the magic of my mind aside to make room for the brain power needed in completing intense academic tasks (such as the fifteen page Media Law exam that I’m still trying to recover from). For those of you who have been reading my blog, I apologize for the lack of updates and will try to get back in to the flow of consistently updating.

Fortunately, my inspiration returned last Monday night.  I had been listening to classical music for hours before I finally decided to go to sleep. It was around 1am and I was so tired that I honestly thought something was wrong with me. “What is this strange sensation that has come over me? Why do my eyelids want to keep closing? Am I sick? Am I experiencing the odd effects of allergies again? Am I having some sort of supernatural experience? Have I gone Mad?” After a few minutes of debating with my delusional self, I remembered the whole idea of sleeping and concluded that sleep is what I needed.  I crawled into my more than uncomfortable bed (equipped with springs on the verge of popping out cutting me while I sleep), but was able to drift off into a deep and interesting slumber.

When I had awoken the next morning, I felt as if the dead batteries in my body had been charged and I was finally back to my strange and unusual self.  Although physically I was in my bed that night, my soul was in an entirely different realm of existence. That night I returned to a place I have visited frequently, yet have never been. A place I consider another home, yet have no connections or roots. If you guessed anyplace other than Russia, you obviously don’t know me very well.  That night I was in Russia, a place in which many of my dreams seem to take place. I’ve always had a fascination with Russian culture, and that fascination has only increased as the years progress and the dreams seem to happen more frequently.

This dream took place in Moscow, to be specific. I was overlooking the Moscow skyline through the window of an apartment. I wanted desperately to go into the city, but my mom said no. I would continually check the view out the window and think about how wonderful it would be to wander around the city. But when night had fallen, the entire city disappeared. The disappearance of the city wasn’t replaced by the darkness of the night; instead the view was of pure nothingness-- A view that could only be seen and accepted in dreamland. At that point, I felt the world around me getting much bigger. Perhaps I shrunk a few inches? I’m not sure. I had a feeling of determination, so I did what any girl would do; I put on a blue wig, ate candy, and told ghost stories with the children in my Russian neighborhood.  Just as things started getting interesting, I woke up to the sound of my radio alarm clock yelling at me.

Angelina Jolie looking perfect in Moscow, Russia

Like all dreams, this one is open for interpretation.  Instead of analyzing it myself, I give you permission to draw your own conclusions. Regardless of the deeper meaning, that morning I woke up in a cloud of inspiration. Whenever I feel like I’m slipping into a hole of mundane normalcy, Russia is always there to pull me out. I’m not sure why Russia has chosen to blissfully invade my dreams? Maybe I’m actually a Russian spy and the tactics have become so secretive that the only way I’m able to receive and communicate information is through the alternate world of dreams? Or maybe Italy, my soul mate and homeland, has decided to share me with the rest of Europe and I’m still in the Russian stage? But the theory that makes the most sense is glamour. Although I’ve never physically been to Russia, I’ve always pictured it as a being a glamorous utopia in which women wear heels, lipstick, and fierce coats every day of the week. Awhile back, I stumbled upon a news segment about Russian women and their devotion to glamour. The segment was only a few minutes long, but it gave me a glimpse into the glam culture of Russian women, forcing me to realize why I’ve always been inspired by this magical far-away land.

Maybe Russia’s trying to convince me to visit in order to discover a deeper sense of glamour, or maybe the series of dreams are simply meaningless and I need to stop overanalyzing everything. But if there’s anything I’ve learned from my 21 years, 4 months, and 25 days on this planet, it’s that my soul encompasses strong feelings of wanderlust and strong feelings of glamour. Traveling to every corner of the world in order to experience the beauty of different cultures is one of the most authentic and glamorous things one could do, and my desire to embark on such glamorous adventures is something in which I will never lose sight of.