The Hectic Attic

For those curious about my NaNoWriMo’09 production, here it is…I hope you like it!
Aline Martins

Synopsis: Where do dreams go?

Jenny is still upset about loosing the best storyteller she ever met, her grandma.
To make things even more difficult, they are moving to her Grandma’s old house, at least -she thinks – she might find someone to tell her grandma’s stories.
But she has no idea what kind of friends are waiting for her in a house where the doors are as huge as giants and the rooms always lead to magical places.

And for my curious friends!

Excerpt

When she got the key, she looked around, and the only thing she thought about was picking inside the room once more. “One more time” she thought “just one more time”.
And she opened the door.

“Granny?” Jenny murmured, taking in shallow grasps of the cold air.

“Do you want to play with Granny?” A said a soft voice with glee.

Jenny stepped inside the room, closing the door slowly at her back. “I won’t take long, and nothing can happen” she thought.

Suddenly, other voices joined the first one, all of them whispering at the same time,
“Jenny, we know you are here, we know you are here”.

“Who are you?” asked Jenny choking, this couldn’t be a joke.

“Jenny, my darling” said a very familiar voice.

“Granny?” asked Jenny.

“Did you come to hear new stories Jenny?” the other voices joined what seemed to be her grandmother’s voice.

Terrified, she tried to run away, but she tripped over something and fell to her knees.
“You’ll never get out of here Jenny,” said one of the voices.

“This is where they send you when they don’t need you anymore” another voice said.

“You don’t want us anymore Jenny, you put us here to forget us, but we want you”, they said in unison.

Jenny thought she could feel cold hands around her wrists, holding her, while she could hear her granny’s voice behind all the others, and it said “be careful, my dear, you should not enter the fairyland without following the instructions”.

The other voices were still around her saying “We want to play, we want to play”.
“Granny?” Jenny shook all over trying to get rid of the cold and the fear that was making her choke as if all the objects in the room had their hands and fingers on her.

But, just when Jenny became convinced life was over, and there was nothing else she could do, a whirlwind escalated and suddenly disappeared.

Jenny was confused, she could not figure out where she was, or if she was standing, floating or lying on the floor, all she could feel were the cold and the weight of the silver key on her hand. She closed her eyes for a while, trying to forget, only listening to the sound of her heart.

When she opened her eyes and looked around, she was not in the attic anymore, but in her bedroom, lying on her bed, holding something so tightly in her hand,something that was hurting her. The key.

by Aline Martins

One day, I lived a divine life
I lived among Gods, all around and inside me,
but this life proved to be too easy to a complex mind,
So, I went down, to live a less real life, but,

Arriving there, I found an enchanted life,
not so visible, but enchanted,
I lived among unicorns and fairies, in the midst of forests and rivers.
But that life was too ethereal for a body as physical as mine.
So, I walked … to live a less magical life, but more palpable.

Arriving there, I found a house of great splendor,
a palace, but magical,
I lived among kings and princesses, inside great halls and festivals,
But this life, was too cold for a warm heart.
So, I danced … to live a less noble life, but more palpable.

Arriving there, I found a battle field,
where I could feel the cold war and the heat of the bodies,
I lived among heroes and traitors, in the midst of swords and spears,
But this life, was too gray for someone with hope.
So, I run… to live a less heroic life, but more palpable.

Then I found the “hut”
Simple, where the moon shone silver, and the smells were as the feelings within me,
I lived between the divine love and the cold war,
however, this life proved in its colours and pain that my love and difficulties were worth to be experienced.
So, I died … the arms of the one I love
to live more real, magical, noble, heroic and divine life.

And then I met you …

I have been thinking about some dreams lately. Dreams people had and also my dreams. My random, sometimes interesting reveries I’ve encountered in Dreamland.No, I am not only talking about dreams I have when sleeping

Today I concluded the 2nd out of 3 steps to my first BIG plan… and I am very happy. In a way I never thought I would. Better than this only having a True love, and having my Brazilian and English family in a single place- I miss them a lot, especially right now. (Guess my heart will always be partially broken).
After all:

“-What power would hell have if those imprisoned here would not be able to dream of heaven?”
Dream to Lucifer and the citizens of Hell, in Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman

I decided to keep dreaming, but this time, with my feet on the ground! And things seem to be working!

All this reminded me of a movie I watched a while ago… it talks about dreams, inspiration, Love, eternal life…

“-People think dreams aren’t real just because they aren’t made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.”
John Dee, in Preludes & Nocturnes. By Neil Gaiman

“Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.”
Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Act 5, Scene 1
by W. Shakespeare

but from today’s dream… I AM CELEBRATING, for this one is coming true!

Aline Titania Martins

Looking through the window… can you see there?

Ah! It´s a GARDEN!

Once, a poet wanted to write a poem made of a single word. He was looking for a word that could translate the whole world…we never knew if he could do it. But, I think, poetry is looking for the essential word. Maybe when God made the Universe he thought: GARDEN! (or not)

A garden is the image of beauty, harmony, love, happiness. A writer, friend of mine once said that if he could choose a word to translate the world, Garden would be this word. After a long time waiting, finally, I could have my own garden. I had to wait, because gardens need a land to plant. And I didn´t have it. From my garden, I only had a dream. But one thing I know.I know, that dreams are the places where gardens start to grow, before coming to exist in “real life”.

A garden is a dream that became reality, it’s a part of our soul, being shown to the world with no shame… but the dreams are beautiful things. On their own, they can’t create much…maybe only birds with no wings…like songs that are never played, like seeds in small packs, waiting for someone to put them where they belong.

The dreams lived inside me. They were my own possession. But the land… didn’t exist. But someday, the land came to be… I know, I know it´s virtual, and we can only see from the window of this Dusty Attic, but look friends, what can you see? oh, my dream made love with the land and a garden was born! I didn´t need a gardener. They are excellent, to make real gardens beautiful. In fact, all I wanted was my garden to speak. Oh, you didn´t know gardens can speak?

The poet Guimarães Rosa- Brazilian Poet once said:

“There are many, millions of gardens, and they all talk to each other. The Birds of wind in the sky – always bring messages (…) Even now, there is a big garden, full of girls. Where a little girl, is making fairies… someday you will miss it…then you will know…”

Only those who miss something can understand the messages from the gardens, and we are the only one able to hear the message from our own garden. A garden is like a body. The nature becomes the lover in it…and it´s so good!

All I wanted was the garden from my dreams, that one that only existed because of the things I missed. Then, I was not looking for a real garden; I was looking for the poetic beauty from myself. I wanted to revive the lost happiness; the lost time…

Some time ago a friend said to another “Poor Aline, is nostalgic”. But this person didn’t realize that nostalgia doesn´t mean we stay crying all the time.
To miss is the pain we feel when we realize the distance between the dream and reality. It is realizing that the happiness will only come back when reality can become a dream.

I dream of a garden. We all dream of it. In each body, there is a paradise!

We are nothing but a butterfly. Our world, our destiny, our garden. An utopia.

The Birth of a Butterfly

It´s weird to notice how light comes during the night
How a smile comes with tears.
It´s weird how a storm, can make the land fertile again
How simple steps, can make a dance
everything is change

and…then, amidst all this darkness…

It came slowly, passed by as a breeze
soft, evolving my hectic nights
and night after night, it came back, with agile fingers, and broad smiles
to plant in me, a hope that for a long time had been broken

I looked for memories that were forgotten,
feelings of past lives soaked in tears, but still, I threw my net, and got
that single drop of the sea, that was waiting for me.

I held it carefully, as a diamond… how could a diamond so fragile?
Then, it vibrated, and as a reverse tear, it went up through my face
entered the windows of my soul, and installed itself in my heart.
After a long sigh, the world became a rainbow. The pain was gone.

I could feel that breeze within me, as arms
was it spreading inside me? I can´t be that big…
So, I had to get rid of things I didn´t want anymore.
And In a frenetic whirl of colours and horrors, I tried to create space.

But there was nothing left. So, I entered my own cave.
Organized the mysteries of my soul.
Maybe, that thing that grew within me, could find its purpose.

The breeze became a storm of kisses and smiles
A storm that raised seas of tears
An earthquake of senses and touches
and there, as a metamorphosis, between earth, sea and sky
I could understand the alchemy that was happening inside me

A butterfly was born …
in my back, the most delicate wings … unique, as I had never seen.
And tonight, I´ll fly, high, in search of my spring of inspiration.
It can be anywhere, doesn´t matter its name.
I´ll recognize it when I see for it is mine and it´s is part me.

Now, dear guest and creatures from this Attic…
what can you see in this garden?
What are you missing and Nostalgic about?

Love,
Aline Butterfly Martins

PS: here is a very close friend of mine.
Every morning I cross a park when going to work, and there lives a very special being. My family calls her “grandma”. (It is an elder indeed). I have shared with her my best and worst moments… Yes, It´s a magnificent tree (From Celso Daniel´s Park- Santo André -São Paulo-Brazil)

PPS: I know this Attic is quite Hectic, but
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