It's a good question and one that I am not sure I can answer in any concise or remotely rational way. I was trapped for a few days in a depressive haze, perhaps caused by an OD of birth control pills (I forgot to take them for a couple of days and had to "catch up"), perhaps caused by a severe shortage of cash and a series of disappointing days. Perhaps caused by my inability to turn my brain off and remember that despite the frustrations, everything is really ok. I mean, it is not like I am starving or sick or a victim of violence or homeless. I actually live a pretty disgustingly easy life, but there are things that eat away at me anyway, mostly my directionless ambition that is having a great difficulty finding a channel to express itself. It seems as where before, my workaholic tendencies discriminated little from one activity to the next, remaining equally persistent in my job, my schoolwork, my music, my writing, my exercise, and various other little daily skills. But now I am confronted with a total lack of motivation with my school work, as I am finally realizing that it doesn't matter at all. I have decided to take up coffee drinking because it is the only activity that makes me re-engage with my banal classwork, and let's face it, if it's the ONLY thing that I am busy with at the moment, I might as well succeed at it.

Ok, enough boring crap. As part of my dark days, I spent a lot of time sleeping and therefore dreaming. I don't remember a lot of them, but the one I had this morning was killer.

Basically, I found myself in Japan, a city called Na--ka (for some reason I couldn't figure out the middle syllable, I think it is a mix of Nagasaki and Osaka). In any case, it was a port city (which I imagine most major Japanese cities are). I was on a street which had one side lined with shops and other commercial establishments and the other side showed a little beach that lead to the water. Walking past an electronics store I saw a news clip that was playing on the televisions in the window. Although I didn't understand the words, from the images, I understood that there had been an earthquake in the ocean and that a tsunami was headed write for the city of Na--ka. Shit. And here I was at the beach. I looked out toward the beach, expecting to see a wall of water miles long getting ready to swallow up the city (much like in my dream of 1997 when my recently deceased grandmother led the family to the top of a light house and to safety to avoid the monstrous tidal wave that was approaching). But what I saw instead was the the wave's massiveness was not vertical, but horizontal. The water was shallow but moving very quicky toward the city. I wasn't going to be drowned, but I definitely was going to get wet. I braced, myself against the building and was splashed by water. My biggest fear at this point was the anticipation of a massive undertow that would drag me out to sea, even if the water wasn't that deep. Seeing a store that was open a few feet a way, I quickly slipped into the dryness of a Japanese pet store. The people in the store were very welcoming and helped me to dry off. While I waited for the water to recede, I decided to pick up some wacky Japanese cat treats to bring back to Chita.

You see, I was in Japan for just 10 days, on business. I was alone, but there to meet with some people. Once I felt that it was safe to go outside again, I walked down to the subway, bought my ticket (was impressed that I was able to say the few words I needed in Japanese) and got onto the train. The station was massive, with several different platforms, but I had studied which one I was supposed to take and new exactly what stop I was getting off at. I was happy to get into the brightly lit subway car after spending enough time in the dingy, gray concrete station that made me think a lot of the office building in Joe vs. the Volcano. I was staying with another American woman, who I didn't know, but who obviously worked in the same field. She resembled Elaine from Seinfeld. Her apartment was small but warm, with a sort of orange glow to it. My bed was a pullout sofa in the small tv room. I felt very safe there. She was incredibly friendly and had arranged a dinner with some of her friends, promising me a wild night. We left the apartment to go to the restaurant and then I woke up.

I found myself on the Lonely Planet website reading about Japan and decided that I have to go. But until I have the excess reserves of cash to get myself to Na--ka, I contented myself with the "Floating World" exhibit of Japanese prints at the Palais Royal. It was stunning. I realized that, although I know practically nothing about Japan and Japanese culture, there seems to be a duality about it that is congruent with my own flux of emotions and needs--at once stimulating to the point of insanity and solitary. The prints often juxtaposed crazy, out-of-control bordelo scenes with these incredibly tranquil landscapes. With a different perspective, a window from a lonely hotel room looking out onto the craziness instead of a shot of the two side-by-side, Lost in Translation also captures this duality. Perhaps it is what drew me to the film. I don't think I will get to Japan anytime soon, and certainly my impressions once I do get their will be very different from my dreams. But until then, I will add Japan to my list of countries to visit (along with Ireland and Australia, which have also made it into my dreams) and learn as much as a can about this mysterious world. Oh, and I vow to eat a lot of sushi.