A week or so after mum died, I was meditating and a series of images arrived. I was quite afraid. They unnerved me.
That’s the thing people don’t tell you about Transcendental Meditation – and my teacher says to detach from any image or sound. RATGIRL’S images were very very sticky, like flytrap trappy. One view and I was a fly.
So much so, the images returned again in a dream the same night. This time RATGIRL was speaking too. I woke, deeply upset.
I’d unearthed a short film. Now all I needed to do was decide whether to tell it or not. And if I decided to dedicate, how would I tell it? Then inevitable doubt waved hello, saying what if you waste your life on something so small? The question sealed the deal. Small matters. Quiet matters. And RATGIRL matters.
RATGIRL is persistent. Like me she’s bullheaded and resilient. She wants to be born, even if her life is quiet, ignored, ghost-like. Her very stubborn conviction to be is reason enough for me to dedicate to her, love her into being, bit by bit.
These little RATGIRL posts will chart my journey, so I don’t forget the bits that mattered while I create ie: the full process. The timeline.
Today, I storyboard her.
Don’t get me wrong, she is not as surreal as she sounds. There will be constructed free fall and obvious narrative structure. She will be scripted from her dream words.
All I know so far is tiny: RATGIRL is the little nightmare I carry behind my bellybutton. I’m both frightened to proceed and anxious I’ll fall short of sharing her sad wonderfulness with you. I’m straddling impatience while willing myself to stay crafting, crafting, crafting, until all her DNA, cells, and veins are in place to support her next stage of life.
Bring on the storyboard…!