What's the difference between having a vivid imagination and a long memory? I'd like to think that I have both. I remember before I was born Trameka La'Shaé Harris. I remember existing among the stars in a purple and black galaxy. I remember choosing my mother. I remember seeing my whole life on a film reel. Déjà vu in French means "already seen," and that the perfect explanation of someone who's been here before. Growing up in my great-grandmother's house, I remember seeing clocks and hourglasses full of sand. Maybe I remember her watching Days of Our Lives; however, when I look at Salvador Dali's Persistence of Memory, something seems oddly familiar. I grew up knowing who would rob me before it happened over and over. Now, I have no ties to these worldly things. The older I got, the more everything started making sense. I went back and looked up Dali's work, and wouldn't you know that he also painted Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War) in 1936, 6 months before the Spanish Civil War began. He believed in the "prophetic power of his subconscious mind." Even Albert Einstein thought the concept of time was an illusion.
Many believe that God gives us dreams or premonitions to prepare us, always keeping us one step ahead of trouble. The same message over and over and over until we think we are insane. For years, I've hidden my love of philosophy. I was stashing away poems and research because these things were too vulnerable. Too close to who I was. It was easier to tell my mom and family that I wanted to be a Fashion Designer than I wanted to be a writer/poet/philosopher. I never saw anyone who looked like me do it growing up. Donna Karan is cool, but Socrates! Plato! Aristotle!
An alarm rang in my heart, finally! My mom is an engineer and would see all of my grades and accolades and say, " You could be an engineer just like me! Your math and science scores are high! You could code. Why be a starving artist?!" Well, there's not much difference to me. Both careers have supply chain management and digital systems. I just got to take figure drawing, CAD, philosophy, and Women's studies as well. I make patterns and count words. I'm a mathematician and a philomath. My passion for arts was stronger if not equal to physics and mathematics. I am an "entitled" Millennial, after all, and that's what I wanted to do at the time.
Now, I run fast from my day job as a stylist into my journals where I can be the real me. Runnin' fast from the way it was before. Jump quick to a paycheck. Runnin' back to the "CLUB." This year 2020, I've paid enough of petty dues. I've had enough of shitty news. Well, today was a better day than yesterday. I just take it day by day. Never hearing what they say. I just do it my way. All I got is these broken clocks. I ain't got no time. Just burning daylight. At this point, I'm like gimme my check. Put some respect on my
check or pay me in equity. Watch me reverse out of debt. I like expensive fabrics. I got expensive habits.
I'm not the only one anymore. I'm seeing people all over my timeline putting Emmett Till next to Tamir Rice, seeing patterns. People researching History and understanding that not much has changed. The Moors taught Europeans how to bathe, and I was telling people that you indeed have to wash your legs in the shower, telling people how to season. I'm looking at people's birth charts and uncovering secret illnesses similar to the African Conquest of Spain circa 789 CE.
Staying sane is practice. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. The same people who protested in high school most likely protested this year too. Guess we were practicing. What a time to be alive! I can sign and post petitions in minutes! I can talk to powerful women of color who sound and think like me when they go live on IG! I've always wanted a mentor, and now I have hundreds. Hopefully, when they see my name, they'll see a resemblance too.
The ancestors never left you. You are the ancestors.
Bass. High Hat. 808. Let's go get 'em. MLK Format.
I recently read this work to my mom, and she smirked at me as she did on Christmas mornings when I had everything I asked for and never thought I would get. Me.