Dora Clad.

Dora Clad.

Dora Clad. this is the most powerful name i have ever encountered, dear reader. that name and all the attachments clings to me lately. i met her in circumstances similar to my encounter with Julie.
in a dream.

the most powerful dreams i have aren't about what happens, they're about what's evoked. in my case, they are heavy emotions that ride the waves from dreaming to conciousness. they are grave in their surreal density.

while this dream is not the weightiest of them, it assuredly is the most provocative. it is, in fact, the most inaccessable of its kind. the most purely speculative.
her physical form is almost identical to the character Penny Lane from Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous. upon waking, i thought that was who i had been dreaming about, until her name echoed in my head for an undetermined length of time as i was trying to pull myself into the awake. Dora Clad. Dora Clad. Dora Clad.
(i think you should know that i have never dreamed of a person's last name before this, dear reader.)
i realized with a sudden fury, that Dora Clad was not Penny Lane. that's when i began to try and back pedal, began to sift through the fog and the fuzzy to retrieve the suddenly critical-to-me dream of Dora Clad. i can't stop thinking her name, and when i say it, i only want to say it more.
in the dream, i believe Dora was saving me from something. a guardian of some kind. i think she may even have been there to save me from myself. from something i was maybe doing to myself. something fatal. but beyond this was the promise of something more or something deeper. like she would visit me again later in another capacity after she had thwarted me from my danger. the only visual thing i remember is her face, angelic, eminating this sort of glow, or mayber highlighted from a different glow originating from behind her. like looking at her as if i were on my back and far away, looking from far away through some liquid that magnified her face to approximate how she'd look up close. wavering. reassuring me.
i found myself not exactly reassured at all. i found myself lonely. (but how else could i be, yes?) i found myself repeating over and over Dora Clad Dora Clad. floored by the intensity of the name. how could i have possibly thought of a name like that? i couldn't have could i? it must have been planted right? somehow, by someone?
well, i don't know about all that. i don't really claim to know anything, dear reader, save for the fact that her name is perfect. perfectly sounding, perfectly memorable, perfectly symmetrical. perfect.
it makes me want to be foolish. makes me fantasize about madly searching for her. a search that eats me alive, taking the fat off my body, devouring the muscles, pulling my skin. painting rings around my eyes and bestowing my hands with shakings. robs me of sleep and outcasts me from life. just to get her. to her. it has a sick appeal to it, a lofty dedication i have to admire to some extent. i've read too many goddamned books.

i googled Dora later that afternoon. i searched a little bit in a few ways. nothing immediately advertised itself as a lead. a lot of the children's charcter Dora the Explorer. there's some salt for the wounds in that coincidence.

i don't know, dear reader. i guess Dora Clad may fade into my mind with all the others. i feel blessed to have been inspired by her at all.