by Dina Pugliesi
The sky didn’t seem to agree with any particular season that day. It was blue on the horizon, a hazy crystalline blue giving off the appearance of one of those cool-looking heat waves. But there was a nip in the air. Above the blue hint of summer, thick heavy clouds were stacked on top of one another, weighing down the sky. And above that, circling over my head and back down to meet the wooly clouds on the other end of this personal snow globe, color and shape disappeared altogether. Everything was white: solid and dull and white. Maybe it would rain, I thought, or maybe the mass of floating cotton balls would open up to reveal some sort of happiness.
I snapped out of it then, and hoisted myself down from the hand rail I’d been teetering of top of, taking just about 7 minutes to eat my toasted everything bagel and sip my morning coffee. I threw out the wrapper and empty Styrofoam cup and rejoined the herd of Manhattanites as they weaved about the city streets, fast-paced and too busy to stop and enjoy what the sky was telling them. But what was it telling me?
I got to work just before 8 a.m. and clocked in. I plopped down at my desk and said hello to Helga and Sarah, the two girls who sat nearest to me at their own small, cramped desks. Well Helga couldn’t be called a girl, but a woman rather, as she was probably close to 60. She had short, graying hair and kept it in a low ponytail that never quite contained the curly wisps at the base of her neck. She was a sweet, unobservant woman, with no husband or children, who seemed perfectly content with her life, sharing stories with Sarah and me about her weekend shopping trips and knitting escapades with her 19-year-old cat, Mittens. Sarah was 23 and working here until she finished Graduate School; she planned on becoming a speech pathologist. Her blue-green eyes had never seen true heartache, and I smiled subtly when I thought of the ease her life had been blessed with. She would succeed, and her simple desires would be fulfilled, carrying her blissfully into old age.
Each day I tried to forget that I was not like my coworkers. I was 21 and still had no idea what I hoped to achieve. College had left me with a degree in a field I was almost positive no longer interested me, and I was sick of society telling me I should be figured out already. I felt like there was so much more to be seen and done before I picked a stable career and settled down. I wanted adventure. I was in no way content, but I had no clue as to what I could do about it.
So I sat at my desk and typed my reports. When Sarah asked me my plans for the night, Friday night, I said I would probably go out with my friends, see a movie, or go to a bar. Really I planned on turning in early, as I did almost every night, in the hopes that my mind would finally produce a vision during my unconsciousness of the future I longed to attain.
I almost made it to the end of the day, I did, because it was no different than every other day I had worked there, except for that was it: it was exactly the same. By lunchtime I was so bored, I had to get out. I could not take one more minute of this mundane routine and this uneventful life. I ran, I just ran.
I ran out of my cubicle and past the elevators and down 15 flights of stairs, practically flying. At ground level I flung open the beige, paint-chipped door that offered an escape, and heard the old slow-close door hinge creak loudly before the heavy door thudded shut and locked me out. I had frantically exited into the side alley beside the office skyscraper in which I spent too much of my time. Quickly I fled from the alley and took off toward my small uptown apartment that I shared with my brother. He, too, it seemed had his shit sorted, and was, like the rest, content. He was completing his last year as a business major at Baruch College, and planned on marrying his girlfriend of 6 years after graduation. He would move to Brooklyn and no doubt start a family within the next few years. I just didn’t understand what was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I be happy with a regular life? Why couldn’t I pursue a career that would surely support me, find a “mate” and fit in? What was it that I sought instead??
As I raced through the streets all I could think was Not This.
I hadn’t slowed down by the time I reached home, and finally stopped at the elevator in my building’s lobby to catch my breathe. I rode it up to the 7th floor and felt more lost than ever as I turned the key and walked into my apartment. I flopped down onto the couch, with my elbows resting on my knees and my head in my hands. I cried: I cried for happiness and I cried for an answer and I cried because I didn’t know what else to cry for. I cried in loud, heaves and shuddered until my ribs ached. I cried until I couldn’t think anymore and I couldn’t feel my body. Numb, tired, sad, and confused, I decided to take a bath. Maybe I’d feel better, or maybe I’d melt into the sudsy water, only to evaporate into the clouds, and eventually rain down in fat, glowing droplets destined to hydrate the growing green plants of this Earth, before seeping into the soil and disappearing forever.
The white porcelain tub sat in a small rectangular enclave in the tiled wall of the bathroom. There was a single window a few feet above the tub that I had left cracked open, and the wind was gently lifting my lace curtain up and down. I stripped and stepped into the hot bath water that was slowly rising in the tub, not bothering to pull the shower curtain shut, and submerged myself in the cloudy oasis, swirling with translucent clusters of bubbles. My bare, wet and shiny thighs poked out of the water’s surface, as did my shoulders and collar bone, and I closed my eyes to focus on the faucet’s waterfall imitation. I let the sound and sensation comfort me, and took in a long, deep breath to clear my head.
I awoke in a boat. It was a brown, wooden rowboat with a white pinstripe along the rim. I looked out along the lapping, indigo surface of ocean water and could not see land on any sides. Where was I? How did I get here? I couldn’t remember anything after I’d bathed, and put myself to bed. I didn’t want to panic, and so I assessed my surroundings again to try to make sense of what was going on. As I turned my head to peer behind the boat, I saw a dark shape under the water that was heading straight towards me. Before I could think of my next move, a giant koi fish, the size of a large dolphin, jumped up out of the water and over my head, and over the entire length of my rowboat! I couldn’t move, not because I was scared, but because it was so beautiful. The fish was black and white; it’s body sleek and wide, resembling both an orca and yin-yang design. Its tail was almost as long as its body, and was rainbow colored, flowing back like ribbons in the air before the creature dove back underwater. And as I was distracted by this astounding event, I did not notice the seemingly insignificant banana cluster sitting beside my feet until it started wriggling and then began to sprout vines! These plant limbs soon grew long enough to pour over the sides of the boat and two of them wrapped around my ankles! I couldn’t process what I was experiencing and just watched as the smooth, green vines tightened their hold on me. Suddenly, the majestic koi fish jumped back over my boat and me but this time, I kid you not, a BLUE WHALE followed suit! His leap was so enormous that it created a tidal wave that capsized my tiny rowboat. I was underwater then, flailing about, amidst the darkness of the ocean, struggling to orient myself toward the surface and swim up to find air. The vines were still clenching my ankles and began making their way up my legs to wrap around my torso. I can only describe the way they fashioned themselves around my back and shoulders as a makeshift backpack of bananas and possessed plant. A single vine had drifted toward my face and I could feel the water movement as it wiggled in front of my mouth. As if none of that was enough, a brilliant blue light exploded in front of me and the vine forced itself in between my lips. Shocked, my jaw locked and I instinctively took a breath in: The vine was hollow! And there was oxygen inside, being fed to me from my insane, and impossible banana knapsack. It was like I had my very own air tank! Thus, finally able to breath, and no longer questioning the absurdity of these recent occurrences, I focused my attention on the shining, blue light ahead of me. I swam toward it, and as I grew closer I could make out a cave entrance dense with seaweed. I swam inside heading toward the brightness. Within, I turned a corner and discovered the source: a pool of blue, glowing something. It sat on the cave floor and whatever it was made of was slowly swirling in a continuous circle. I swam, tentatively, just a bit closer, so as to get a better look and still could not comprehend what I was seeing.
And then I heard it, from my own subconscious, a faint but firm message to the lost soul I was sick of being. Take the Plunge.
So I dove into the blue abyss, and after the initial submersion I opened my eyes to find the tiled wall of my plain bathroom, surrounding my porcelain tub. What a dream. What a vision. I stood up to grab a towel and caught glimpse of the sky from outside my singular, curtained window. The clouds had opened up to reveal a blue as clear and promising as the lagoon I’d just plunged through. I smiled then, and heard the voice, louder this time, repeat what I knew was my only option. Take the Plunge, Dina.
That’s what the sky had been telling me all along.
