The Elusive Phenomenon of Dreams

When the Downes were visiting last week, we discussed some of the weird qualities of dreams. Recurring dreams, dreams in single colors, dreaming about objects (and then waking up to realize you weren't actually holding your phone, for example), etc. etc. etc.

My mom has an interest in dream interpretation, on a side note, but I'm not going into that.

What about the setting in your dreams? Where does it all take place? Sometimes, the next morning I couldn't tell you where I was in my dream...probably because it was irrelevant. Sometimes, I can't recall any physical landmarks to connect my dream to a particular place, but I could easily tell you, "I was in Alabama", or "I was at church", or "I was at home". You know what I'm saying? I hope so. My dreams aren't anything crazy unusual, so I'm sure you understand what I'm getting at. 

Well. A few nights ago I had a dream. I don't remember exactly what the dream was about, but it had something to do with my dog...Kodiak was endangered somehow, I think. I did remember the events and details when i first woke up, but I didn't write anything down, so...oops. I do recall the setting, because it caught my attention. Throughout the dream, I was at home. Easy. I remember being in my room and just...being at home. Yet, when I woke up, I realized I had been in the Bangor house. I was a little confused to wake up and find myself in Berwyn. Weird, right?

So, that got me thinking about all this. Home is where the heart is. I know that is a pretty non-scientific statement to include in this post about the nature of dreams, but...just consider that cliche. Do dreams come from the brain or the heart? Are they spiritual or can they be physically explained? I have no answer to that. Scientists don't even understand the "elusive phenomenon of dreams"...or the purpose of sleep, FYI, but that is a rabbit trail to be explored another time. My question is: If I've been living in Berwyn for six months, then why didn't that register in my dreams? Everything I say from here on out is purely speculation. (Heck, everything I've said is purely speculation). If my dreams are a function of the brain, then you would think that my home would be Berwyn. If my dreams are more...I don't know, emotionally driven...then maybe that would explain this fact: My unconscious still associates home with Bangor. My heart is still in Maine. Not because I hate Illinois, but...because I love and miss Maine with all of my heart. That is the way it is. Give me time, but for now my home is still on Grant St...even if not my address. I've been in denial, trying to become a Chicagoan and embrace this new place, but it would seem that my heart knows what's up. 

Dreams don't lie.

Maybe I miss Maine even more than I know.

1/2 Hour of Heaven

Ellis Park on the south side of Chicago was the place to be at 7:30pm on Saturday the 22nd of June.

I was there.

You weren't.

Ha.

The gospel fest has been going on in Chicago this weekend. It is complrtely free. Crazy, right? Most of it was pretty good soul music, which I like, but…don’t often listen to. When I looked at that program, though, one artist stood out to me: Lecrae.
What?! Lecrae in concert?! Oh. Yeah. We’re in Chicago. Not Maine. I forgot. Cool people come to Chicago.
Well, today I saw Lecrae in concert and it was amazing!!!
Dude. The level of base was insane. Jojo, Genet and I were as close to the stage as the normal people could get…and we were literally vibrating.
I also saw four other singers perform…they all had good voices and seemed like well-known gospel artists, but…I was only there to see Lecrae for about 1/2 hour. He closed the show, and blew all the other performances out of the water…in my humble opinion, anyway. By the time we were walking to the car (still buzzing from the show) we were full of energy and the whole evening in the hot sun was worth that 1/2 hour of Lecrae.

On our way to Ellis Park on the south side!

Tennis.

At this moment, I am sitting on the couch and listening to my father and brother fill out a parks voluteer form. Listening? Yes. They are sitting at the dining room table behind me, and they are loud. People in my house don't simply write down their information. They discuss it with eachother and deliberate way more than necessary before writing it down.
Anyways, my dad is going to teach tennis, and Jojo is going to help him. It’s difficult to predict how this arrangement will work out…meaning the combination of my brother and little kids. We shall see. My dad played and taught tennis in college, and every summer for the past ten years he has attempted to teach the ways of tennis to me. Every year. And somehow, every time my racket hits that green ball, it still does one of three things:
1. Sails over the big fence surrounding the court.
2. Rams smack dab into the little net, which the ball is supposed to sail over.
3. Manages to get over the little net and stay away from the big fence, but of course lands outside the stupid lines.
Ugh. Tennis is not my calling. Hopefully, if Dad and Jojo get accepted as Columbus Park volunteers, it will distract them from trying to transform me into a female Federer. Last summer, I decided to refrain from participation and just take pictures of everyone else playing tennis...during a particularly discouraging week, anyway. I do not see myself picking up tennis again in the near future, considering the courts near our new house don't have a big fence surrounding them. Me playing tennis on those courts would end in disaster. Besides, my non-participation reduces the frustration level for everyone concerned.
Take a look at the courts of Little City Park...in my hometown:

My dad is generally the more intense tennis player.

Mario, Luigi, Yoshi and Birdo.

We've been looking forward to the Downes' visit since we moved to Chicago. Before we lonely little Nelson kids had met all our new friends, we couldn't wait for the June reunion with Colby, Marcus and Jaida. Now that they've come and gone (arrived last Wednesday, and left this morning) in a whirlwind of activity (which should explain my week's absence from Scintillate), I want to hop on a plane back to Maine. It sucks to see our fellow Mainers go back home without us. We miss them already. 

The Downes and the Nelsons have been good friends for like ten years, I think. Charlie, Mama D, my mom, and my dad are real close. Us kids haven't always had the close friendships we do now…I, at least, used to wonder why the majority of kids in our “home fellowship crowd” were guys. Now, however, Colby and Marcus are like my brothers...and Jaida is practically my little sister.

These past five days have been…wicked. Amazing. Phenomenal. A whole heap of laughter (mostly directed towards a certain 14-year-old and her texting), lots of Justice League Unlimited (roll of the eyes), way too much overtime/extra innings between hockey and baseball (we did get to sing "take me out to the ball game" twice), an introduction to Arrow, incriminating photos, almost enough Mario Kart (lol), and plenty of other good things to remember. Even divvying up the deep dish pizza at Lou Malnati’s was hilarious. Plus, a bunch of the animals at the Brookfield Zoo now have new names! Booyah!
Mario Kart is a sort of…glue…between Marcus, Colby, Jojo and I. The Nelsons are very competitive, and The Downes managed to make second place by the end of the visit. Marcus knows how to rep the Downes. For the last Mario Kart tourney played in person for a while, we chose four related characters. Jojo was Mario. Marcus was Luigi. I was Yoshi, and Colby was (oddly enough) Birdo…Yoshi’s sister. Hmm. Well, Jojo came in first overall and Marcus placed second. No wonder Luigi has that inferiority complex. In case you don’t know, Mario and Luigi are brothers. Duh.
It just occurred to me that Yoshi is basically Mario and Luigi’s camel. Good grief.
Why do I go into the details of Mario Kart, rather than the Cubs game or downtown Chicago?
1. I have lots of pictures to narrate in other posts…all about the cubs game and downtown chicago.
2. Mario Kart may seem like a stupid way to draw friends together, but it works. We duke it out online when the four of us can make the time and, on special occasions, in person. I just love coming up behind Colby with a golden mushroom and shoving him out of the way. The victories over Jojo are few and far between, but sweeter than anything…and there is nothing more satisfying than tossing a bomb straight towards Marcus.

So, are you prepared for a ton of pictures? I hope so.
I wish you many mushrooms,
Yoshi

...a.k.a. Spitball

14 Innings at Wrigley

Last Thursday, we spent five hours at Wrigley Field! Huzzah! My mom, Mama D, Alyssa and Jaida went shopping. The rest of us took the blue line down to Jackson. From there, the red line was packed. The Addison stop is very conveniently placed next to Wrigley, though, so it was worth it. Peter and Michael met us (a tad late) at the ballpark.

The Brookfield Zoo

This year was the best Father’s Day…ever. Partly because we have the best dad ever…and partly because all six of us kids were together for the first Father’s Day in years. And we had Leatitia and the Downes with us!

The 16th of June is also Kodiak Frankenstein Nelson’s birthday. He did his best to share the spotlight with the fathers present.

The Father’s Day/birthday cookout was fab. Peter cooked the burgers to perfection. We spent the afternoon at the Brookfield Zoo, and topped off the night with cards, gifts and cake!

A Day With the Downes

Monday...the last day...heading to the 31st street beach!

The Blues Festival of 2000 and 13.

I love downtown Chicago. Maybe one day I'll be sick of the sights, sounds and smells of the city...but not today. And certainly not last Friday, when we visited the Blues Fest in Grant Park. Apparently the Chicago Blues Festival is the biggest free Blues Festival in the world. I love music, and as stated above I love downtown Chicago. So how could the Blues Festival in Grant Park be anything less than fantabulous? It couldn't. And it wasn't.

By the way, I couldn't help but think of Bangor's own musical fair...the Folk Festival...as we were traipsing about the park. It was blues rather than folk and skyscrapers replaced the Penobscot River in the backdrop...but it was all the same wacky people and exorbitantly priced food. :)

Grant Park...that's the Buckingham Fountain with the Sears Tower in the background.

National Iced Tea Day

Well, if DD declares it so, then I suppose it must be true, but...seriously? It's not even free???

Mr. Nelson

Dad, Bob and I helped Peter clear out his St. Dorothy's classroom on Friday...it was also National Donut Day. My oldest brother is a teacher. He has taught at St. Dorothy's Catholic School for three years. He's moving on to a great position at a charter school, but it was a little bittersweet to get all his stuff from the 7th grade homeroom. I've only visited St. Dorothy's twice, but all his kids have been amazing...and it cracks me up to here them refer to Peter as Mr. Nelson. Hopefully next year I'll be able to visit his high school kids often.

Mr. Nelson's classroom.

Memorial Day...The Extended Celebration.

I know, I know. Memorial Day was nearly two weeks ago. Why did I wait until now to write about it? Because I was sick for like a week and didn't feel like writing much of anything. Why didn't I ditch writing about it? Because I had an amazing Memorial Day!

To begin the narration, Sunday was ridiculously fun. Bob and Nancy met us for church, to kick off the celebration. Peter came out to Berwyn for dinner, and he and I left with mom's admonition to drink nothing stronger than sprite. Michael and Sarah Bauer met us at the Chicago Brauhaus in Lincoln Square. The Brauhaus is a German restaurant and bar, where elderly, awesome, German musicians perform. It's crazy. Have you ever had beef tar tar? My brothers have been raving about it since last spring in Poland. It is raw cow meat served with a raw egg, capers, onions and anchovies. Disgusted? You should be. I was none too pleased when Peter ordered tar tar with our delicious, giant pretzel. However, I agreed to taste it. I did not agree to Peter feeding me tar tar out of his hand, but I did taste it. After chewing it for an entire minute, I came to the conclusion that the texture of tar tar is nasty...but the taste is not bad. No, I would not eat it again. Anyways, after the Brauhaus we continued to party hard at Peter, Sarah and Cassie's apartment.

So you see why I am still motivated to write about this an entire week after the fact.

When Memorial Day dawned we headed back out to Berwyn, accompanied by a crazy man for a leg of the trip. Monday was pretty chill...your average cookout complete with picture telephone and the name game.

Tuesday=field trip day! I had never heard of The Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, but I'll never forget it. Their main attraction was an exhibit called Destroy the Picture: Painting the Void. It's all art from the years following The World Wars. Theodor Adorno said, "to write poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric". The artists of that time were obviously less interested in poetry than expressing the devastation around them...you can see for yourself...