For over half my life I have been trying to make sense of war, poverty, death, corporate greed and postage. Today something clicked… at least with how the fuzzy pink bunny fits in.
Late one weekend night I sat at the open mic night at one of the colleges I attended and told the story of a fluffy-pink-terry-cloth-bunny-rabbit. The rabbit was the reincarnate of a soldier who died in an I.E.D. blast. The poor soldier woke up in a dimly lit sweatshop with child labor. That was the beginning of a long set of misadventures into society and an expose on the culture of the late 2000’s. His misadventures were based in a fantasy created by his mind while he was in a coma.
The soldier’s life was a lot like the page of cup reversed. Floating about in a fantasy world when he needed to be grounded in reality. The trauma of the blast sent him off into a fantasy world much like Alice In Wonderland, only to wake up a new man when he tried to give the rabbit he embodied animation.
As a writer, I spend a lot of my time deeply sunk into fantasy. I am accused of living in a fantasy world every single day, and to a degree it is true. I have some serious grounding issues, but finding the harmony between fantasy and reality takes practice and dedication.
I find that I get stuck in the space of wishful thinking and the space of not knowing how far a dollar can stretch, so I irritate my family. Impulsiveness seems to be a weakness that I have when it comes to food and dreams.
The thing that I am doing now is delving into my bunny box. It is filled with; my past experiences, past dreams and a plethora of ideas. I’m cutting out the crap, burning the useless and letting go of the junk. I’m grounding myself in my oldest and biggest dreams.