Dear Memory: The Song in my Dream

Good morning, Eoin. At least, morning here. It is a quarter to seven in my local time. In my dream, I sang part of the melody of a song familiar to me, by Enya, and it stayed with me as I woke, with the strange, eerie weight of some dreams that drives people sometimes to interpret them.

Such was the weight and the strange calm, and my appreciation for thinking again of someone whose music I have loved and not listened to in quite some while, and the strange dream-sense of importance, and also as well some of my desire not to forget the melody, that I sang out the verse-melody again as I remembered it. But I have never known the words. They are not in English. I did a bit of Googling to see if I could find it. Enya > Watermark (for I know that's one of only a couple of albums I know). On the track list I saw it, one track titled in Irish. Undeniably Irish; I know some of the patterns now, and I remember the word "geal" from that one song by Maria Dunn. Na Laetha Geal M'òige, which according to translators means "The bright days of my youth" and is a song that mourns time lost, and whatever vague things; opportunity, experience, that were lost with it.

So here comes again this sense of both devotion and frustration. As soon as I saw it was writ in Irish, the song had meanings linked to you, although I won't consign you to a thing lost in the past just yet. If anything, I shall take this as a precautionary tale not to live with regrets, to seek out those things that delight me and live my life fully as I can.

However, even so, my dreams evoke yet more little poignant reminders of how much I miss you, as well, I suppose, as my desire for physical affection, and the conflictedness of trying to figure out whether I would, at this time, be comfortable falling into some physical intimacy with someone who were not you. Since that seemed to be expressed in my recurring dreams about getting close with and kissing an acquaintance or stranger. I think I had those dreams three times in one week, which is remarkably recurring for me.

Having seemed to have clawed back out of my slump for now, I fetched out the application forms yesterday for the six Irish colleges I have been considering, and intend to make it my task over the next short while to start filling them out. I stopped by the business office yesterday to ask where I could find the closest thing my college has got to a program syllabus, since that's been requested alongside my application if I were to return to Athlone. If I were to return to Athlone, indeed. And something inside me thrums and shudders like a guitar string that's just been plucked at a little harshly.