Crushed

Twilight, or more specifically New Moon, is everywhere you look these days. I keep hearing how hunky these actors are and how so many teens (and probably their moms too) are screaming in the theaters whenever one of them takes off his shirt. It’s got me thinking about teen crushes. How powerful they can be: all consuming and passionate.

We tend to feel this way about people that we don’t know very well—or don’t know at all in the case of celebrities. Familiarity truly does breed contempt? In any case, by not knowing someone well, we are able to create a blank slate on which we can spin our fantasies and illusions. We allow our imaginations to shape the world just the way we want it. We envision best friends, lovers even; perfect in every way.

It brings me back to one of my own crushes (which, I confess, lingers to this day). I have long had a thing for David Bowie. It is not his physical attributes that interest me. Rather it’s a core fascination that encompasses his music and, from what I’ve gleaned in interviews, the way he interprets the world. And even though he is who he is, and I am who I am, with worlds of difference between us, I can’t help but feel that we are bound in some odd way.

I’m listening to David Bowie right now. The album is “Aladdin Sane”, and particularly the song “Time”. It reminds me of a dream I once had about Bowie when I was 14 years old.

I look at my watch; it says 9:25,
And I think, ‘Oh God, I’m still alive’.
We should be on by now.


In this dream, Bowie contacted me and we agreed to meet on a certain bridge in Hackensack, on a certain date in August, at 9:25 am. The dream was incredibly vivid. It was so striking that it just had to be a real message. David Bowie was somehow reaching out, and what I thought to be a one-sided crush, was possibly something deeper, crossing the bounds of time and space. I knew I had to go. How could I not?

You—are not a victim.
You—just scream with boredom.
You—are not evicting time.

I thought about the dream all summer. I knew I was probably feeding into my own fantasies; creating something out of nothing. But what was the harm? It made me happy—that ought to count for something. And what if it truly was real? As the designated date approached, I mulled my own sanity vs. my teenage desperation for something greater and more magnificent than what I had.

Ultimately, I did not go to the bridge that day. Perhaps David Bowie did. Perhaps he waited awhile, hardly knowing himself why he was there, before shrugging his shoulders and moving on. I might have missed the opportunity of a lifetime. But in the end, I decided that some things are best left to the imagination.

Perhaps you’re smiling now,
Smiling through this darkness,
When all I have to give
Is guilt for dreaming.
We should be on by now.




2 comments:

Bob said...

I was just up in Twilight country. Every monkey's uncle of a businessperson was trying to make some sort of commercial connection to the movies. Didn't notice anyone trolling for David Bowie fans, though.

Jenny Wren said...

Yes, I heard Twilight's been a real boon for the area. Despite all evidence to the contrary, teens may not think Bowie fans are as cool as glimmering, mind-reading vampires. But now that I think about it, Bowie played a vampire in "The Hunger"...maybe there's more going on here than we realize.