A Woman Goes Off the Grid
I have this fantasy of what it would feel like to be free
Last night, I had a dream that I was hiding. Secreted. Tucked away in a room cluttered with newspaper, old velvet chairs, soiled sheets, and clothes that smelled of moths and wet wood. They were children’s clothes — red jumpers and polka dot pants. Teddy bears stenciled on sweaters. In the center of the room, I made a clearing. Set down my cat carrier, the suitcase and backpack I’d hastily packed. You should know that I’m not the hasty type. I’m the kind of woman who would shudder at the thought of shoving balled-up shirts in a bag. Yet here I was — wrinkled clothes, a few books, and jars of honey. One fat cat clawing its way out.
I remember the dream, vividly, because I kept waking from sleep only to return to it, picking up where I’d left off. Before the room and the suitcase, I was arguing with a couple in a restaurant. Their faces were a stockpiling of masks, reminding me of this Twilight Zone episode where the shape of a man’s face would change whenever he willed it. But this parlor trick got him killed in the end, and I sat at a table wondering who exactly I was speaking to. Yelling at. Wanting to escape from. At one point, they left the table for the bathroom or the check, and I ran. Night morphed into day, and I grabbed what I could from a home I didn’t recognize and found myself up a flight of stairs, through a door, and into a room covered in kids’ clothing.
My cat was nonplussed.
I wake from the dream and walk to the kitchen. I stand on the cool floor in bare feet. I open and close the fridge. It’s 1:59 a.m., but then I remember all the clocks in my home are a little fast, but I forgot how fast, and this not knowing bothers me in ways you can’t imagine. I go back to bed, and as soon as I fall asleep, there is the room again, only now it is clean, spare. Mopped down, combed, and scoured. No velvet chairs with puffs of cotton peering out. A woman walks in and out of the room as if she is a revolving door, and she keeps saying: “You’re safe now.”
I’m a planner. Big on research. Huge on mapping things out. I feel calm when I’ve printed paper and sorted it in folders. I look up how to change your name — is it hard? No, not really. Just a process. I buy a book based on a blog…
