Planes
It's inevitable if you watch enough old comedies, you'll see the scene: someone explodes something, jumps on something, or bounces something that sends someone else hurtling toward the ceiling where their head becomes promptly and securely lodged. Or maybe instead, it's the "elevator stuck between floors" scene where the doors open and all we see of the character inside is the head from the eyes up. Special effects were corny then, but the element which made the humour work was that it triggered in us a reminder of how bizarre it would feel to be in that character's place.
I know exactly how it would feel. I seem to spend a great deal of time with my head on a different plane from everything else that goes on within me and around me. Everything is disjointed. Nothing seems to quite fit. Time slips away and I have no idea where it's gone. I pick something up, put it down, then for the life of me, can't remember where I've put it. In the middle of a conversation, a sound or movement takes me off onto another plane and the topic, however important, is gone. Whether I'm doing dishes or making love, I'm at the same time intellectually processing a hundred things a minute...the problem being that I seem to be unaware of 98% of what I'm processing and scared to death of another 1%. In the movies, it's a funny scene. In reality, there's no humour to it at all; it's frustrating, it's draining, it makes my head and my heart ache...and it serves no purpose except to make me more aware of how self-alienated I am.
I'm a lucky person, though. I have people willing to travel through the planes with me...people willing to listen as I shout down from the ceiling...people calling back up to me reassuringly...people willing to crawl into the elevator with me. Different planes aren't quite so scary when someone's willing to be there with you...and I'm glad I'm not alone.
Copyright Dec. 2/95 - may not be re-printed or redistributed without express permission.Sage
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