Cinnamon Zone: Diaries and personals

I Dreamed a Dream...

Tue, 02 Jun 2009 23:49:00 GMT

Dreams are a fascinating thing. Sometimes so beautiful that you feel like crying when you wake up and find out it was all in your head, and sometimes so bizarre that your sigh with relief as you wake up with your heart pounding like a sledgehammer. Between those two extremes however, the weirdest, funniest, most beautiful curious things can happen.

As a child, I used to have that recurring dream and that I can still vividly remember. The sky was pink, an Israeli soldier was running after me, then comes my salvation: a ladder that leads to a cloud on which was the Egyptian actor Sameer Ghanem. Yes, I admit it, I was a fan of Fattuta (in my defense I was 5 years old or so). Have I bothered to figure out what that means if it means anything at all? No. Why am I telling this? Because it’s the oldest dream I can remember and in retrospect I find it a bit weird, I mean come on, the sky was PINK!

As I grew up I can’t say my dreams got weirder but let’s say there were different new features. Once I heard that there are two things you can’t do in a dream: switching the light off and turn around. So, there you go, I decided I should try it. And I did, I went to sleep and the next thing I knew I was in my dream, knowing that I was dreaming, trying to turn around and switch the light off. I know you might be wondering it worked. Well, it didn’t, but we can never be sure because the subconscious could be so tricky.

One of my all time favorites was that dream where my cousin and I were in a store and somehow we find ourselves in a situation where we were allowed to take everything we want for free. As we, in the dream mind you, were so busy packing things my sister stopped by in a go-kart-like car and told us that we were dreaming (what a buzz kill!). My cousin, in the dream mind you, was bummed. She was like: “Nooooo! Pinch me so I make sure” and so I pinched her and she was like: IK don’t feel anything! We are in deed dreaming!

That was something!

In another dream that I can’t remember anything of except the last part, my cousin and I were running and all of a sudden we realized that the dream came to an end, so I told her to stop right where she was so we can continue the adventure in the next dream.

But my favorite series of dreams was the one following Tawjihi. You know how everyone dreams that they are having exams after they finish school or college. In my case, it was freaking me out, seriously! Creepy nightmares in which I didn’t know the answers or couldn’t do the tests for some reason or another. So finally I could take it no more. I said to myself: next time, I will remember that it’s a dream. And so there I was a sleep and seeing myself in a room where my teacher was giving me the test paper. And then, before I started doing the test I stopped and said: Wait! This is a dream, I know it! I finished school! And so he smiles like sheepishly and says that’s absolutely right!

But recently, I must admit the most amazing thing happened to me in my dreams. A dream I had told me what I wanted. It told me what I was thinking, something I wasn’t aware of. It opened my eyes to reality. And that’s in my opinion is the greatest thing about dreams; they tell you the things you’re afraid to admit. They expose you to your own self. Your own fears and feelings. Not always pretty, but unlike reality, you cannot escape it and you have very little control over it.

Just don’t stretch it or over think it, and relax, I believe Paulo Coelho was being symbolic! So, Don’t take the next plane to Malawi or start digging in your Grandma’s backyard. After all it’s a dream, enjoy it while it lasts…

Not Your Average Bully

Thu, 23 Apr 2009 00:40:43 GMT

“Go home, have lunch, go for a walk, go home again, do what you have to do, watch something on DVD, go to bed.” That was how I visualized my day at work, forgetting the fact that during any of these daily routines that I take for granted, something so small could happen that will touch your soul and change you in an instant.

I was taking my daily walk, something I usually do with my mom and our neighbor in a quiet area that’s relatively new so, for the most part, there are either beautiful houses around or plots of lands covered with the colorful blankets of spring. A great place to get lost in thought.

As I was wrapping it up and heading home, I passed by an orange-colored villa that I thought it hasn’t been inhabited yet. But this time I heard voices, a woman’s voice talking to someone who turned out to be a child going out through the main gate of the villa and who was also saying something back. He seemed in a rather bad mood and something about him and about the house made me feel that he’s one of those little brats who bully other kids at school and that he’s just come to Jordan with his family after years of living outside the country. He really seemed to me like one of those annoying spoiled kids you see in Hollywood movies and TV show. Maybe because he was a little too big for his age, maybe it was his tone of voice, but whatever it was I made the fatal mistake, again, of judging a book by its cover.

He kept going in the same direction I was going, and as I got closer to him ,still thinking of the next mischief he might cause just by walking down the street, he suddenly turned to me and said:

“Watch out for the tar, it might not be dry, you better walk here [pointing out to the rocky side of the road] I always walk here, it’s safer”

All the time he said that I was still thinking that he was up to something. I thought he was trying to pull a joke on me like the things a six-grader might do, but I tried to be nice for I thought he may prove wrong, and he actually did.

- Oh, I better watch out then. But you know I think it’s dry, I walk here everyday

- I know! I see you pass by when I’m studying

- Really? What grade are you?

- Fifth grade, what grade are you in?

- Well, actually I finished school, I work now. What’s your name?

- Taj

- I like your name! Well, I’m Ola. It was really nice to meet you

And just as I greeted him and was about to split up he said:

- I’m going this way too, to my aunt’s house

- Well, we can walk together then. Does your aunt have children your age?

- Yes

- I have a cousin who’s my age too, we’ve been friends since we were 4. But she’s now in the States.

The conversation went on and then my mother and our neighbor joined in. We found ourselves sharing stories with a 10-year-old boy we’ve just met, and all of us couldn’t help but smile at how friendly and social that young boy was. I can imagine him sitting beside his window with his book, looking at passers-by and wondering who they are and what stories they could have, and perhaps think of a way he could invite them to his own world and strike an unlikely friendship with them.

This young boy who at the first glance I thought to be a bully, was yet another reason why I smiled at the 2 little neighborhood girls and greeted them cheerfully, and why I goofed around with babies on the street and the supermarket. This young boy is one of those people who stand by waiting for us to invite them into our lives, only we’re blinded by prejudgment and paranoia. But once in a while one of those people will force their way in, and that’s when you learn how rusty the lock on your door has gotten, and it’s about time you cracked it open.

The Yellow Rose

Tue, 31 Mar 2009 21:27:51 GMT

We all receive gifts all the time, or from time to time, and sometimes it’s hard to keep track of which gift meant the most for us. Sometimes it’s something so glamorous as a diamond ring, other times it could be something as simple and tacky as a personalized mug. After all, it’s all about the sentimental value, and for me it’s not hard to decide which was the best gift I’ve ever received, because it’s the first that comes to my mind.

I think I made it clear that I don’t like flowers and roses as a gift. I think it’s becoming such a cliché and is losing the sentimental value since everyone who’s anyone can get you a bunch of flowers on any given occasion; it’s the easiest thing really. Yet, I still believe a single rose may be a gift that’s worth a million dollars.

I was in the 10^th grade, and there was a little girl at our school called “Senarite”. Senarite was around 6 years old and was the cutest most adorable little girl. I liked her so much, and who wouldn’t? With that innocent face and sweet demeanor.

One day at recess, I was hanging around with my friends when Senarite approached us with a yellow rose in her hand, she walked to me, reached out with her hand and gave me the flower without uttering a single word. And I can tell you that you might question the intention of anyone giving you a rose, you might even refuse it or throw it away, but when it’s a rose from a child, it’s one thing to make you feel good and to be cherished forever. That’s why Senarite’s yellow rose still lies inside my diary book until this day.

I haven’t seen Senarite for years, I can just imagine how much she’s probably grown up by now, she might even not remember any of this, but I know for a fact that she gave me one of the best gifts I have ever received in my life.

My First Rainbow

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 19:17:46 GMT

It’s the rainbow season in Amman. You know with the rain/shine weather people are starting to see rainbows more often here and there, I saw more than one post in the blogosphere about this, which made me think of the first time I saw a rainbow.

Rainbows are fascinating things, a colorful illustration of nature and a great symbol of how there’s always something good to look forward to after every adversity. Yet, most people I assume come to be familiar with rainbows as children through cartoons. Personally, I haven’t seen a real rainbow until I was probably 10.

It was a stormy day. My mother’s aunt had just passed away and my parents were at the wake, leaving my sister, brother and me at home. I can’t remember what year exactly was that but I’d say my eldest sister was around 13, I was 10 and my brother was 6, something in that vicinity.

The storm began raging outside, the rain was pouring and the wind was blowing against a small window in the laundry room. We started to panic, I don’t know why exactly but we were really scared and before we knew it we were crying like we’re in the middle of a nuclear war. We were utterly terrified, I remember that my sister was weeping and saying: “Our science teacher died this week, mom’s aunt died this week and it seems like we’re going to die too!” NOT HELPING!!

Well, looking back at this I think that either she was terrified of the concept of death due to the death of her teacher, or she was enjoying seeing us suffer. Well, I think that in this context the former explanation makes more sense, although we enjoyed seeing each other suffer as kids when we thought it would do no harm.

I can’t remember exactly whether the storm had subsided before my father came home or the other way around. All I know is that the weather calmed down just as we relaxed, had lunch and watched a movie we already recorded on tape, it was called “Buried Alive” or some such horrifying name, then we huddled over the window to see, for the first time as far as I’m concerned, the beautiful rainbow that was formed as the storm bid us farewell. It wasn’t like the one we used to see in “Sunbol” but it was truly a sight for the sore eyes, which makes me think now that it’s probably not the rainbow alone that puts a smile on your face, but the storm that preceded it, and the harsher the storm is, the more beautiful the rainbow is in the eye of the beholder.

I Think I Need Therapy

Mon, 02 Feb 2009 23:23:00 GMT

As some of you might know I have expressed how I feel about roses before, and about people trying to sell me roses, but today I realized how serious this could be, to the point that I’m willing to admit that I do need help…

Today as I was stopping at the traffic lights with a million things on my mind, I saw a boy selling some kind of a long flowers, I think they were carnations or something. As he stood by the window trying to talk/mime me into buying some I insisted that I didn’t want any, but he didn’t seem to take no for an answer, and since I was so stubborn he resorted to some subtle solution as if to force me to buy the flowers. He cut a snippet from the tip of the very very long flower and tuck it under the wiper blade on the windscreen, and told me that it only costs 1 JD. I was like FIIIIIIINE!! (Bearing in mind that I’m strongly against this style of sales that is pretty much like begging)

So, I opened the window to hand him the money and was just about to tell him what he did was salbata (can’t find the right word in English), but before I could say anything he handed me the flowers. Of course, seeing how big those flowers are and given the fact that I’m really not a big fan of buying flowers for no occasion I freaked out and told him I didn’t want them, but he didn’t seem to care because he just stormed off, leaving me dangling the flowers out of the window, shouting for him to come back and confused as to what I should do with them. But there wasn’t much time to think, I had to decide before the green light was on, and what do you know? I throw them on the ground. Yes, I did. I even looked at the flower tucked under the wiper and thought of grabbing it and throwing it on the ground too, but I thought that would be too sick and too callous. Sensing I did something wrong I looked around me to see if anyone was judging this environment unfriendly act, and in the rear view mirror I saw a man in a taxi looking fairly puzzled.

As I drove on, I looked at the flower under the wiper, thinking that this looks like something nice, a sweet gesture. But it wasn’t long before the gushing wind blew by, and tore it away.