Jellyfish

Someone once asked me what I thought jellyfish dreamt about.  He told me that some jellyfish have 8 brains and when they sleep, 7 shut down while one brain kept them moving.  He wanted to know if I thought each brain dreamt the same thing or if they had their own dreams.

I told him I wanted to believe that jellyfish are actually the center for old people’s thoughts. Kind of like satellites for life to be processed and sent back to us in new codes. Each brain taking on different memories—playing around with them, trying to paste things together. Dreaming of people’s memories. Working like an assembly line. Basically I imagine jellyfish as creating the film The Tree of Life for old people to find some peace about their exsistence.

Every time I see pictures of jellyfish I think of them piecing together the good of my life.  The love, the laughter, the intimate.  I imagine the lust turned affection of a different boy who shared with me the numbness he felt after a father lost.  A tumultuous relationship I could never pretend to understand.  In passing, he told me he grew up thinking he was a mistake.  I knew more about that subject.  After cradling him in my thighs I told him that I hoped he didn’t still see himself as a mistake.  ”You may have come here unplanned like I did.  But I see purpose in your smile.”   He kissed me thank you and embraced me.  We slept on and off that night never letting go just mangled in sheets.  I think of jellyfish piecing this for me now.  And I hope they peace him something great.