I still dream, sometimes, that I’m back in Okinawa. I’m forever lost on the narrow, winding streets that seem to have no names and unable to ask for directions. There’s a sense of wrongness that goes beyond driving on the “wrong” side of the street. I’m trying to find places I remember, but can’t seem to get there. When I wake, I am left with a longing to return just to orient myself and sort out the dreamland from the real land.
Maybe Spirited Away was too similar to a nightmare to be enjoyable. (I was certainly horrified when the parents turned into pigs. That is just the sort of thing that happens in a messed up dream.) One of my anime-loving friends has Kiki’s Delivery service for us to watch together and she thinks I’ll like that better.
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Sweater, Gibson (thrifted). Leggings, Express. Boots, Blondo. Earrings, Cuffs. Scarf, Canvas boutique. Bag, Steve Madden.
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I was a little sleep deprived today after getting home at 2 am and being awoken before 7 am by Jackson. I’m not even sure if I was awake through the entire movie.
1 comment:
I agree that was a strange movie. Miyazaki's movies sometimes seem to have no plot, but they are so beautiful that I don't care. I didn't particularly understand what the heck was going on, but I agree with you on the dreamlike quality.
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