Our shadows follow us. Even when we can’t see them.

That’s analogy I’m using as I go forward – I mean, after I finish this project.

This blog is a record of my shadows: the things that follow me, sometimes haunt me, but are also the most important.

I have a reoccurring dream about an apartment building in an area of town my mom’s mom supposedly used to live in, but neither the apartment building, nor the area of town actually exist – they only exist in my dreams. Sometimes I like being there – it’s homey; it reminds me of my grandmother and it kind of resembles the area my mom grew up in, but only kind of. Other times, like when it’s night time in a dream, I don’t want to be there.

So this place is both comforting and scary.

Sometimes I meet people there – people I want to meet and people I’d rather avoid. A couple nights ago, Gaetan was there – in this apartment building that I don’t live in, near a place my grandmother used to live, in a neighbourhood that looks both like a part of the market I used to visit when I lived in western Ghana and a romanticized version of the neighbourhood my mom grew up in in the city I currently live in.

But we were there and Gaetan was just leaving, but he was coming back. So I kissed him. I kissed him as I kept talking: my lips were both telling him an important part of my life story and kissing his lips at the same time.

I wrote a song for Gaetan, a while ago now (I can’t quite remember how long ago), called “The Moments between my broken hearts” (it’s a country song, in case you were wondering) and now I think there might be something to that. Isn’t it strange that nearing the end of this project, in this rare instance where I don’t find myself in some complicated romantic relationship, I dream about someone that I did when I first started this project – kind of like a shadow.

Ok, so let’s be clear – this was a dream. But it wasn’t a bad dream – and if you remember the dreams I was having about a year ago, I would say that’s progress.

The Moments between my broken hearts

It was sunset when I passed through cowboy country,

But I could never find my cowboy.

Lord knows I’d been to enough cabarets and drank enough whisky shots

But in the end, who am I kidding?

I am not a cowgirl

And for a moment I had to ask myself what I was even crying about

 

You were there when I took off to find myself

And you were there when I was over-analyzing

You are the only one that I don’t try to pick apart

Your face crowds my memories of the moments between my broken hearts

 

It was sunset when my train pulled in late

And I was always scared of robbers

Lord knows I’d never hitch-hiked and didn’t expect this to be my first time

But then again, you always take chances

When in foreign place

And for a moment, I have to admit, you kind of crossed my mind

 

You were there when I took off to find myself

And you were there when I was over-analyzing

You are the only one that I don’t try to pick apart

Your face crowds my memories of the moments between my broken hearts

 

Before I put the last nail in the coffin of all these loveless relationships

Before I walk away from something that was not superficial

You were there through all my provocations

 

You were there when I took off to find myself

And you were there when I was over-analyzing

You are the only one that I don’t try to pick apart

Your face crowds my memories of the moments between my broken hearts