The Woman of My Dreams

There she is. She keeps walking back and forth between beautiful, translucent pieces of purple silk. All I can focus on is the distorted outline of her glorious figure. Her hips sway irresistibly as she turns to me. The gaze she fixes upon my body would have frozen 10 million charging armies dead in their tracks; I don’t stand a chance. She pushes her braids aside and gives me a small smile. I feel my entire body below my collarbone melting into the floor as my head bursts with fireworks. I start to ask what I can do for her, anything for her, but she speaks before I can say anything and I am frozen.

“Come,” she says, then turns and walks away.

My mind and body in unison immediately, I start to run after her. But when I reach out to push the silk aside, I trip. The next thing I know I’m falling… and falling… and falling… Every so often I catch a glimpse of her, falling along with me, but whenever I try to reach out to her she disappears. The fall goes on for what seems like forever to me. My chest begins to burn and burst with sounds like heavy artillery shells exploding. I feel an overwhelming mixture of love, excitement, terror, and confusion as I continue to spiral endlessly down. And then, just as quickly as I started falling, I land scraping my elbows on the coarse ground as I do.

I stagger to my feet and look around, getting blinded by the sun. Surrounded by miles and miles of sand dunes, the sun beats down strong and hot on my shoulders. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth like the first bite of a peanut butter Wonder Bread sandwich, and I feel my primal survival instincts kick in. “Water” my body screams to me. And yet, my heart is whispering for something, someone, else. The wind picks up and with it comes my answer. The faint yet irresistible smell of lavender and her fills my nose; I follow it, manifestly. As I top the first dune, another gust of wind blasts me with the sweet scent. Staggering back, I reach up and find my nose bleeding. “_______!” My mind screams as I take off sprinting in the direction the wind came from, panting and wheezing up the next dune. As I crest the top, I feel all the hurt of the heat and my dehydration falling away. I am a snake shedding all of my old, unneeded skin, born anew. And there she is. My muse, my love, my baby. She stands expectantly at the bottom of the second dune, waiting. Her eyes on me is all I need. My heart feel like its pumping rocket fuel through my veins as I hurdle down to her. My head throbs, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t reach her soon.

Then as suddenly as I began falling and found myself in the desert, I was there with her, next to her, close enough to touch her. “I was looking for you, babygirl” I say. “I know” she coos back. I can’t control myself any longer, and she knows it. The next moment I’m kissing her, gripping her body, never wanting to let go. I drink her entire being in, savoring every drop. In between my worship, I pause and tell her “I was falling forever, girl.” “You’ve never stopped” she whispers back to me. I should be confused, I know I should be, but every word she speaks resonates in my body and mind as true. I nod in agreement and return my attention to loving her. But as I kiss down her neck, her body turns to water and falls through my arms. Within seconds, the water is all around me. I’m floating, no sight of the ground or sky. Just water for as far as I can see. I look around and search for the panic that I know I should feel, but I can’t find it. The only emotion I feel is a deep and lasting sense of calm. Realizing that I can still breathe, I take a deep inhale through my mouth and let my exhale reverberate throughout the water. My heartbeat is low and slow in my ears. Every muscle releases its tension. As I sink deeper and deeper into the calm, I’m jostled by something that brings me closer to the surface.

I feel my subconscious try to begin sinking again as my conscious brain stirs. One more bump takes all of the water away. The only thing I can see now is darkness. I open my eyes and there she is, crawling into bed with me. “How was work baby” I muster, groggily. “Okay” she says, “not nearly as nice as here though.” I put my arms around her, kiss her shoulders and tell her how much I love her. And as I fall asleep, I smile. I have finally found the woman of my dreams.

Inspiration and Creativity

When I made this blog, I was amazed at how much effort it took to write about things that I wasn’t passionate about. In its first months of existence, this blog was meant to be my online journalism portfolio. The pieces of writing varied from reviews and interviews to personal essays, but the feeling that I didn’t like this kind of deadline writing persisted. I eventually switched my major from Journalism to English, and mythoughtproject.org went completely dark at the same time. My second semester at Howard was even better than the first. I was finally studying material that excited me in the same amazing environment I had thrived in first semester. My friendships were amazing, and I was blessed to fall head over heels for Tendai Fara Musora, a woman who is even more beautiful and entrancing than her name. And yet throughout all of this life and love, this site remained in the back of my mind. Whenever I thought of it, though, I assured myself that I would take back up the writing as soon as inspiration struck. As time went by and I continued to wait for this inspiration to visit me, I became less and less confident in my own creativity and ability as a writer. Recently I either stopped lying to myself or had an epiphany about “inspiration” and “creativity”. I figured sharing these thoughts as my first post back would be a nice way to return to regularly posting on this site (and motivate myself in the future).

Inspiration: More Like a Pedestrian than an Uber

Finally tired of waiting for inspiration, I went out searching for it. And I found it. What I realized about inspiration is that it’s there, you just have to put in the effort to find it. Inspiration is a fun friend without a car. If you tell them to come over and wait for them to arrive, you’ll be waiting forever. But if you drive over and pick them up, y’all will have the time of your lives. Inspiration is the same way. Whether you’re a writer, painter, musician, producer, photographer or anything else, you often don’t find inspiration by just laying around. But if you get up and CREATE, it’s well within everyone’s grasp. And that’s the other thing about inspiration: it is not exclusive. It doesn’t matter who you are or what you create. Everyone has the originality and substance within themselves to come up with fresh concepts and pieces of art. Now I’m not saying that inspiration is abundant or easily reached. Quite the opposite actually. But if one really WORKS at something, they will find inspiration eventually. And if you don’t love the work, I advise doing what I did and shifting your focus.

Creativity: Another Product of Work

Like inspiration, creativity is another one of those elusive aspects of the process. The thing that sets them apart, at least for myself, is my faith in each as time goes by. The writing slump that I found myself in this last semester was quite long. At different points, as I mentioned, I hoped for inspiration to strike. And yet I never lost any confidence that it would. In that same time period, I saw my creativity go from a character trait I emphasized and identified heavily with to something I wouldn’t even mention to people when getting to know them. I did not see myself as a creative and would have rated my creativity as a one or two out of ten. But now that I’ve started writing and reading recreationally again, I see how wrong I was. Creativity is just like inspiration: you have to put in work to get it. Without effort, these two things hardly ever come to one who wishes to create. To expect creativity and inspiration without the work is like expecting a paycheck without it. They are the fruits of your labor that help creatives to labor better.