It was my partner’s birthday yesterday. I got up early, put out prepared foods we got at Costco, opened a bottle of sparkling wine and celebrated with a pound cake also from Costco. We watched the season finale of ‘Heroes Season 3’ and comedy shows. I made every effort to fill the party with fun.
In the end, my partner asked me to relax and act normally. He felt pressured to have fun because of my tension and begged me to make him pressure-free on this particular day. I tend to go overboard on everything. To me, nothing is ever enough and I feel something missing all the time. I spend a lot of energy looking for the missing piece which may or may not exist. And as usual, I was exhausted by the end of his birthday…
My grandfather liked a party so much. He threw it almost every week at home when I lived with him in my hometown. As he had held the chair of a local senior citizen society and a local chrysanthemum association after he retired, those parties weren’t so small with about 20 old people gathering each time. They weren’t official parties but his home parties solely for his own fun.
He made my grandmother order catering and serve sake and beer, all with our family’s money. It was a big nuisance to other members of our family, but no one complained to him who was a dictator in the family. I used to feel disgusted when I came home from school and saw revelries in my home. One good thing about it was there was an occasional absentee or two if I was lucky. In that case, my grandmother would let me have a surplus dish and I got an unexpected feast. Sometimes though, an absentee turned out to be just a latecomer and my feast had to be aborted after only one bite.
At one party, a man who was quite old drank too much and became unconscious in a chair. My grandfather called an ambulance and the man died at the hospital. Although my grandparents insisted he didn’t die in our house but died a natural death at the hospital, a big stain of his urine on the chair didn’t come off. The chair had been my grandmother’s favorite chair that she used when she did some sewing, but she never sat in it again.
Also, my grandfather’s home party days were over. He never had a party for his clubs at home again. We retrieved quiet days to our house in a weird way. But I missed the delicious excess dish once in a while…
Episode From An Old Tree in Kyoto /Hodemi Woods
On the morning of a day off, I had a long, relaxed breakfast with my partner at home. He told me that he had just seen an interesting dream the previous night. His “interesting” dreams usually bore me, but I reluctantly agreed to hear it out of habit.
In his dream, it was my birthday. We had a party by ourselves in a fictional shabby apartment with half-price deli foods from the clearance shelves of a supermarket. A leftover of three-day-old dessert was converted into my birthday cake and waiting on the kitchen counter. A door bell rang although we didn’t invite anyone and nobody was supposed to come.
My partner opened the door and two Japanese couples showed up. Each couple was fictional, rich old friends of mine in the dream. They were prim in luxury brand clothes and bringing expensive sweets as gifts. They had apparently expected a glamorous home party in a gorgeous apartment. At the sight of them, I shouted to my partner, “Let them in and keep company!” and stormed into my room for a change and makeup because I was wearing worn-out clothes and no makeup. My characteristic wasn’t fictional and I was a vain person even in his dream. He showed them into the living room. They looked disappointed and regretful that they came to where they didn’t belong while he hurriedly cleared the table and fixed drinks for them. Then, there was the second door bell.
This time, a modest woman was standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the outside of the building. She had something handmade as a gift and looked up nervously. “Another guest showed up!” my partner yelled toward me. I rushed out, ran down the stairs, tripped, and dived into a big puddle beside the woman. He saw me sprawling in mud, with my best dress ruined and red and blue from my makeup spread on the surface of muddy water. This part of his dream was familiar to me. In reality, about a month ago, I was walking with my partner looking upward somehow and fell over a big rock. I landed onto hard asphalt and hit my cheek. My palms got grazed badly and covered with blood. That clumsily shocking sight must have remained in his brain.
At this point of his dream, he was resigned to a ruined birthday and his motivation gave out. He went back inside and said to the couples of preceding visitors, “Hidemi dived into a puddle. Would you mind leaving now?” They seemed relieved to be released from a wretched place like this and hurried away.
Just after they had left, strangers appeared one after another. An American man with a camera, a Chinese family and a group of Southeast Asian women came in, all asking “Is this Hidemi’s apartment?” They were looking around curiously and taking photographs. Other people of various races kept coming and the apartment that began to expand was packed with them. He saw more people from the world heading toward my apartment. He became worried that everyone would be disappointed at this place that had nothing to see, nothing interesting. On the contrary, all of those who came seemed content, talking each other at ease or just sitting in a relaxed mood. Looking at them, he realized that what people seek was healing. And he woke up.
Little by little, the number of people around the world who visit my website has been growing since last year. Some visitors leave a comment or a like, some follow me. Those kind actions may have contributed to his dream.
In the meantime, I also had a dream on the same night. I was with Will Smith and a world-famous dancer in my apartment. A box was delivered for me, that was a secret award for the most distinguished person of each fields. Both Will and the dancer had received it before. “You got it!”, they exclaimed. I opened the box excitedly, and there came out a pink hippopotamus headgear. I put it onto my head with profound reverence, felt a sense of achievement, and woke up. In Japanese, ‘hippopotamus’ means ‘Kaba’. If you read it backwards, it is pronounced ‘Baka’, which means ‘fool’ in English.
It was my partner’s birthday yesterday. I got up early, put out prepared foods we got at Costco, opened a bottle of sparkling wine and celebrated with a pound cake also from Costco. We watched some comedy shows. I made every effort to fill the party with fun. In the end, my partner asked me to relax and act normally. He felt pressured to have fun because of my tension and begged me to make him pressure-free on this particular day. I tend to go overboard on everything. To me, nothing is ever enough and I feel something missing all the time. I spend a lot of energy looking for the missing piece which may or may not exist. And as usual, I was exhausted by the end of his birthday…