I came across your substack from the Office Hours thread. I run a literary zine in the form of a newsletter on substack called The Abandoned Dreams Collective. I'm currently looking for other writers who are looking to expand their reach through collaborations and cross posting.
I really enjoyed and connected with your writing voice, particularly the part of the essay where you're talking about being nostalgic for a life you never had. I think it would be a great fit for what I'm doing. Would love to collaborate if you're interested
I think the Better Call Saul ending was one of the better endings I've seen in a long time. I think that final episode wasn't just a resolution (though I felt resolution too), but I took it as the show wanted to say about the story of Saul Goodman was. Great storytelling, all in all.
Loved this essay. I am in my seventies now, which means I've done that spiral more times than I can count. But what resonated for me is the nostalgia for a particular time in my life. There are two particular kinds of dreams that have returned over and over, each set in a time in my life when I felt like you did on the roof top. The first dream brings me back to a student rooming house my husband and I ran for 2 years in a small college town (we had just graduated from that college and not moved on to the next stage in our life--that was 50 years ago and we are still together.) This town, this college, this house, my first years of marriage, the good friends we had made , was magical for me. But in the dream I have come back, and no one knows me. I point out that I was the one who had painted all the walls that light blue, I had been the one who restored the wooden floors, wainscoting, ceilings of the old Victorian house, made it a lovely home for everyone. But the students look at me blankly.
Then second dream is a variation on the first. Here I have returned to the graduate student office of the university where I got my doctorate. This is the place where I learned to be an activist, advocating for my often younger graduate student colleagues, and where I developed friendships that I thought would last forever - but didn't (although one of those friends is in fact still my best friend.) But when I return in the dream, again, the room is filled with students I don't know, the hallways filled with faculty members who don't remember me.
With both dreams there is this incredible sense of nostalgia for a sense of community I had, but seem to have lost. But I've also learned that when I have these dreams, I need to look at my current life, what I might be lacking, what I need to do to ensure I am creating the kind of community and sense of belonging that I had in those pasts. So, thanks for the essay. It's been some time since I've had one of those dreams and that pleases me. But I know with aging, and the inevitable losses of friends and family that I need to ensure I don't stop working on creating new community and finding things to do which give me satisfaction of being of service to some greater end.
Hi Tami
I came across your substack from the Office Hours thread. I run a literary zine in the form of a newsletter on substack called The Abandoned Dreams Collective. I'm currently looking for other writers who are looking to expand their reach through collaborations and cross posting.
I really enjoyed and connected with your writing voice, particularly the part of the essay where you're talking about being nostalgic for a life you never had. I think it would be a great fit for what I'm doing. Would love to collaborate if you're interested
I think the Better Call Saul ending was one of the better endings I've seen in a long time. I think that final episode wasn't just a resolution (though I felt resolution too), but I took it as the show wanted to say about the story of Saul Goodman was. Great storytelling, all in all.
Loved this essay. I am in my seventies now, which means I've done that spiral more times than I can count. But what resonated for me is the nostalgia for a particular time in my life. There are two particular kinds of dreams that have returned over and over, each set in a time in my life when I felt like you did on the roof top. The first dream brings me back to a student rooming house my husband and I ran for 2 years in a small college town (we had just graduated from that college and not moved on to the next stage in our life--that was 50 years ago and we are still together.) This town, this college, this house, my first years of marriage, the good friends we had made , was magical for me. But in the dream I have come back, and no one knows me. I point out that I was the one who had painted all the walls that light blue, I had been the one who restored the wooden floors, wainscoting, ceilings of the old Victorian house, made it a lovely home for everyone. But the students look at me blankly.
Then second dream is a variation on the first. Here I have returned to the graduate student office of the university where I got my doctorate. This is the place where I learned to be an activist, advocating for my often younger graduate student colleagues, and where I developed friendships that I thought would last forever - but didn't (although one of those friends is in fact still my best friend.) But when I return in the dream, again, the room is filled with students I don't know, the hallways filled with faculty members who don't remember me.
With both dreams there is this incredible sense of nostalgia for a sense of community I had, but seem to have lost. But I've also learned that when I have these dreams, I need to look at my current life, what I might be lacking, what I need to do to ensure I am creating the kind of community and sense of belonging that I had in those pasts. So, thanks for the essay. It's been some time since I've had one of those dreams and that pleases me. But I know with aging, and the inevitable losses of friends and family that I need to ensure I don't stop working on creating new community and finding things to do which give me satisfaction of being of service to some greater end.