Small Dream Saturday: A Brief History of Vampires

September 23, 2023September 23, 2023 MabelLeave a comment

Hello Strangers,

I am nothing if not (in)consistent. Today (eleven o’clock at night,) I am going to do things a bit differently; I am going to reveal to you the surprising and potentially very inaccurate history of the folkloric tradition of vampires as I have learned it.

Beginning in the Slavic region of Europe, ‘wampyrs’ or ‘vampyrs’ were not blood sucking demons but were actually mythic creatures that sucked the rain from the storm clouds and causing the droughts that starved communities. Similar to the gods of other communities, they served as explanations for weather patterns and as causes of human suffering.

After this, it came to mean a race of creatures that devoured celestial bodies including the sun, and also the moon. They were thought to be the cause of eclipses and blood moons, when they would bite the moon, turning it red. Now, interestingly, this is also where the werewolf myth begins. Part of the vampyr myth was that they could shapeshift into creatures like crows, cats, rabbits, and, you guessed it, wolves. Because of this, and because of the new lore surrounding the moon and stars, historians have a difficult time deciding which myths belong to which creatures, and the meanings of the name that they shared for a long time. To this day, there is conflict between vampires and werewolves not only in the interpretation of their stories, but also as characters in the stories themsleves.

After all of this, we arrive at the familiar tale of the blood sucking demon. There wasn’t much to tell here, it was simply a terrifying supernatural creature, feeding on the blood of humans. Until it became something else. Something closer to a human.

If a human were to turn into a vampire, (forgive my many spellings of the word, I know it’s distracting,) there was usually a reason for it. Parents might curse their child, and when that child died, they would return as a vampire, roaming restlessly in search of human blood. They might be a child born out of wedlock, a union not blessed by God. I take issue with that kind of assertion, because I believe that God is merciful and that every person will have a chance to repent of their sins and be saved. I take issues with stories that twist our perception of reality, but it was a cultural belief at the time The third way one could become a vampire was through sorcery. If a magician was already playing with dark forces, then when they died, their corpse might be overtaken by a demon and used to steal blood. Not just human either, a lot of sheep and cattle were killed for a very long time.

From this myth, we find the introduction of the vampire into mainstream media in England, and then America: Bram Stoker’s Dracula. (This statement ignores the many myths already present in distinctive stories held by various Native American tribes, and it is an interesting note that while the modern vampire can be traced back to Slavic origins, there are cultures all over the world from Africa, to Asia, to the Americas and beyond who have their own tales of blood-sucking creatures similar to the vampire.) But! Nonetheless, Dracula was a beginning of the vampire for the American people. A nearly human, but still greedy, conniving, lusting, blood thirsty monster. And yet even in the novel, there was some sympathy for him.

Dracula is modern, but Twilight, True Blood, and The Vampire Diaries, are contemporary examples of the vampire in literature, and they have undergone yet another shift. While they maintain their warnings of and brushes with female sexuality, lust, and demonology, these vampires are no longer demons, even if they maintain their offensive religious imagery. Religion is even touched on directly and from the vampire’s perspective in Twilight; Edward Cullen thinks that as a vampire, he is beyond saving, beyond the grace of God, and unwanted by God. In The Vampire Diaries, the two leading brothers struggle to find a sense of morality and love. Also undead politics and eating people. But the point is, vampires have changed in a fundamental way: they are no longer demons, they are representations of fallen man.

Within the realm of storytelling, vampires are at a place at last where they might seek redemption. Instead of representing fear, evil, and famine, they represent the human lost. The unwanted. The dangerous, and the people who think they are too far gone. It is time, in fiction, for the vampire’s redemption.

All stories are a product of their time and culture. We tell stories based on the state of reality, and of the thoughts in our heads that maybe we are not ready to think about in their realest forms. Our culture today is lost, listless, restless, and evil. But fully human. And in the stories of today, there is an ingrained belief that even a vampire can be redeemed.

I have a hero complex, but I will never save anybody, in any way. My small dream at the end of this Saturday is a prayer that the lost would come home.

All my love to you,

–Mabel

Small Dream Saturday: Forgotten Paintings

August 5, 2023August 5, 2023 MabelLeave a comment

Hello Strangers.

I was gone last week. Usually, dreams are a way of looking to the future. But last Saturday, I began the process of making one dream come true.

I have wanted a thrift store painting for years. One to paint over and alter, working with the original, not on my own. A collaboration spanning years. The problem is that I haven’t been willing to spend forty dollars on an ancient painting that might have bugs in it when all I want to do is paint on top of it. So I’ve looked for years. Some were too pretty for me to consider painting over. Some seemed ugly to me , and I had no vision for them and didn’t want to take the chance.

I went to an estate sale on Saturday. My grandmother’s actually, and although it’s been a sad process, it’s been wonderful in that her cherished things have been passed down to the next generations. And there was this painting from the hallway. My aunts begged me to take one. I remember walking past it and specifically thinking, ‘I wouldn’t even buy that to paint over.’ It was harsh. I really didn’t like it.

So I took it home.

I didn’t like the original color scheme. It was very orange and very brown, yet pale, and the color in the mountains and sky was a sickly green color. But I liked the framing of the trees and thought the water was well blended. After some thinking, I decided that I wanted to keep the painting very similar, but instead of a sunset, I would paint a dusk scene. I was heavily inspired by Robin Sealark’s landscapes and skyscapes, with impressionistic brushstrokes and whimsical colors. They look to me like dreams.

Using gouache, I went about doing a wash of dark blue across the sky, leaving the brightness of the orange center intact. I let it dry and continued to build it in increasingly more opaque layers.

I muted the red of the foreground and continued blocking in colors.

Here I started blending the colors, making sure to leave the streaks of brushstrokes. I added in a bolder yellow where the sun was setting, and of course, the sun. I then began muting the color of the mountain.

I continued blending, darkening edges, adding a red haze over the mountain, and rebuilding the form of the trees I covered up when I painted the sky. I added my first layer of stars.

In the final stages, I added more stars, fireflies, and outlined the tops of the trees. I reddened the sun, turned the yellow light a more peachy tone, added sunbeams, and tinted the highlights in the leaves and tree trunks red. I punched up the colors in the water’s reflections, and added new highlights to the rocks and marsh weeds so it would all feel cohesive. I wanted it to seem almost like there was a rainbow there, even though the sun was leaving.

This is the final piece!

The original frame had gold and copper colors like the sunset, but I felt that a blue layer of wood would tie things together. The final step was to add varnish, and here we are.

Working with the piece gave me a new respect for the artist. It was like I was sitting where she sat, looking in a way at what she saw. The original artist’s signature is still there, not completely covered. Her name was Rosina. I’m so thankful she made this piece of art, and that because of her I was allowed to paint something that reminds me of my childhood and mysteries and summer.

This piece is titled, ‘Rosina’s Fireflies.’

It was an encouraging reminder that the whole point of having small dreams is that they are achievable while still being beautiful in a way that doesn’t quite seem real. We are the ones who have to pursue goodness and beauty. Or at least be receptive when the opportunities we’ve been waiting for arrive.

Happy Saturday, Strangers.

–Mabel

Small Dream Saturday

Small Dream Saturday: The Van Roof

July 22, 2023 MabelLeave a comment

Hello Strangers.

It is a bright and glorious morning here, the air smells sweet, and I’ve got the apocalypse on my brain. Not the true apocalypse, just the different concepts people have come up with. Zombies, World War 3, alien invasion, the plague, different mythologies like the Norse Ragnarok, meteorites, the universe collapsing on itself; the list is endless. (I believe that it will be as it was written in the Book of Revelation, but I don’t have any specific thoughts on that.)

I’ve been writing a story about it, coming back to it when it suits me. It’s truly a hobby-piece. I’ll never be able to legally publish it because the characters are not my own, but simply the writing of it is enough to justify its creation.

Anyway. One of the characters is going to lay on the roof of a van and look up at the stars. I like to imagine that since the end of their world, there’s less lights and less smog, and people can finally see the stars again.

My own dream this Saturday is to one day star watch on the roof of my own van. As a child I always wanted to lay on the roof and be by myself. Unfortunately I was a rule follower. (Maybe not so unfortunate, I don’t have great balance.)

Finally! I’m moving into dreams that are actually achievable!

Much love,

–Mabel

P.S. If you’d like to see more pictures and videos, and hear smaller updates about the blog, I’m putting more effort into my Instagram page. I’d like to do daily/weekly writing and creativity prompts, more about cooking, et cetera. Right now I post cozy videos and point out accounts that make good artworks, pottery, poetry and the like.

Small Dream Saturday

Small Dream Saturday: entry 13

June 24, 2023 MabelLeave a comment

Good morning, Strangers.

Velma Dinkley: Chocolate Ice Cream at Night

When I was a child, I watched Scooby Doo obsessively. Didn’t matter the series or story, show or movie, it was guaranteed the tv was mine from 7:00 to 7:30 every single night. It was family ordained. I’d stand there eating a hotdog at the border between the kitchen and living room.

Scooby Doo was the seed that grew the desires to have a van and go on road-trips. It led me to consider becoming a private detective, and inspired my addiction to mysteries and fantasy alike. It was the first thing that made me feel clever and sparked an interest in cryptozoology.

I have three small dreams for this morning. They get smaller as they go along.

1. I would like to write a Scooby Doo television series. Scooby Doo is a franchise that acts like a comic book world. There are alternate universes with different sets of lore, different kinds of stories, different art styles, tones, and even character development. I think it’s likely that in twenty years, we’ll still be making Scooby Doo shows. And I’d like to write one.

2. A smaller dream, but still large, is that I would like to have insulated sheds on my very wild, natural property. These sheds would hold animation/digital art tech, so that I could make short videos, but also much longer and more detailed comic books and graphic novels that I would then self-publish. (Or maybe publish traditionally! Who knows?) They would be cool and dark, and they’d be an escape from their more primitive surroundings.

3. This is the littlest dream, and it’s the one that will prepare me for dreams 1 and 2. I’m going to write as much fan fiction as possible. I should have started when I was twelve like all the other writers, but I just wasn’t ready. So now, I’m going to be indulgent. I’m going to learn by doing, and even if it’s all hot garbage, I am going to have fun and grow as a person as I write incomprehensible cross overs, multiple-plot line series’s, and just fun, ridiculous one off stories. It’s going to be magnificent, and I know that because I’ve already started. My motto is quantity over quality. For that is the way to improve.

That’s all for now! Happy Saturday, my dears, and happy writing! All love,

—Mabel

Small Dream Saturday

Small Dream Saturday: Entry 12

April 29, 2023 MabelLeave a comment

Hello my Strangers.

Today was a rough day, more physically than emotionally. After saying goodbye to my foster puppy around three this morning (he’s fine, he’s on an animal transport, I literally had to say goodbye) I got up at seven-thirty to get ready to help with a pet microchipping event that lasted until about two. I got a pulsing headache that made my face droop on one side and made me nauseous. To top it off, I feel I was helpful but I was a bit overdressed, it was cold, and in the lulls when many other volunteers were also sitting, I nodded off for a bit. I didn’t do anything terribly wrong, but the optics probably weren’t great…That’s life, I guess. I’ll have to do better next time.

When I got home I took medication and had a nap, and when I woke it was early evening. Sun beams like those that filter through the trees across the stream every morning now entered my window through the curtains at the front of the house, and for a moment, I raised my hand up and touched sunlight. Light bounced off my fingertips and glowed through my skin and I stood there basking in what to me seems like an impossibility. Who are we that we should touch sunlight, or moonbeams, as I had the chance to do a few weeks ago in the still air of my kitchen?

I was thinking of my dream for this Saturday and was reminded of an idea for a house at the edge of the world. In my mind, this house is deep in the wilderness and simultaneously right on cusp of town. The world is ending and dark, but the old woman who lives inside is still full of life and opening up her home to any who come near.

That isn’t the case for me just yet, but I would like to have a budget for outdoor lights when I’m grown. Small lights that won’t cause much light pollution, and a house tucked so far away it won’t affect anyone else’s view of the stars. I’d like sconces for the porch, and a low hanging layer of twinkle lights, ground lights in the garden…Those kinds of things. I’d like to make all kinds of strange things that brighten my own home and world.

I’m thinking of the lights, and getting deja vu. I hope I haven’t already written this post and forgotten it.

All love to you,

–Mabel

Small Dream Saturday

Small Dream Saturday, Entry 11

April 22, 2023April 22, 2023 Mabel2 Comments

Hello Strangers,

In honor or earth day, my dream this week is to one day teach a community art class using unwanted things. As you may have noticed, many of my dreams involve the use of junk. When I was a teenager, I used to cut cardboard from cereal boxes to make book covers and canvases. Cardboard has a tendency to “drink” paint; it sucks the pigment and the liquid into its surface, but! It was far better to paint on than printer paper, or even low weight art paper. If it hadn’t been for those makeshift canvases, I never would have picked up acrylic painting, and if I’d never done that, I would never have found gouache.

In the future, I have all kinds of projects planned that I genuinely believe will be beautiful. New paper made from old phone books, handmade journals, faux stained glass, mixed media master’s studies, pendants with paintings inside pressed flower water bottles and lanterns…There’s a million things that have been made by more creative people than me, and they’re easy to find. Just type ‘plastic art’ into Pinterest, and you’ll find incredible things.

But the other thing I’d like to say about these second hand DIYs is that the power of children’s imagination cannot be understated. Little girls of seven years old have more complex weaving skills than many adults because they’ve been braiding hair and making friendship bracelets since they were in preschool. There are still some little boys who paint model cars with their fathers, and a significant amount of children I’ve found are fascinated by intricate geometric patterns.

My hope is that by the time I have the option to teach a community class, I will know how to incorporate the knowledge of that community into the curriculum. How beautiful would it be if entire towns of people returned to a system of creation? Everything from rebuilding engines and building tables from scratch, to making windchimes and decorative stepping stones, to making rugs and wallhangings? Think about the sense of pride in that place, knowing the craftsmanship involved in every little thing. I hope to one day have an art truck with a frog holding a paintbrush on it. I’d drive it around and give lessons to anyone who wanted one.

Happy Scrapping, Strangers.

–Mabel

Small Dream Saturday

Small Dream Saturday: Entry 10

April 8, 2023 MabelLeave a comment

Mornin’ Strangers!

I’ll be brief because this week’s dream will most likely never happen. (But maybe! Maybe.)

I came up with this idea for a shop that in the spring and summer was a regular ice cream parlor. It would have herbs and flowers in window boxes outside, soft pastel colors, and fun brightly colored art in unique frames. The ice cream would be made in house but would be in the classic flavors. I’d have cold sandwiches and baked goods like blondies and brownies.

But in the fall and winter?

In the vats that had held the ice cream, there would now be soup. Some vats would contain only broth; tonkatsu, fish, and chicken broth for ramen noodles, the special broth made for pho, etc., and some would contain whole soups like chicken and dumpling, chicken pot pie, beef stews like caldillo etc. The lighting and decor would change, the interiors would become more neutral, some small plants would come inside, and I would continue to serve sandwiches, hot and cold, and I would serve tea.

Honestly, I might find a way to do that with a food truck someday, instead of a full-scale restaurant. Food trucks have plenty of their own challenges, but that might be really lovely. Ramen noodles and rice noodles and their broths, then some broccoli cheese soup, some stew…. Coffee, tea, and some bread. It could be absolutely lovely. In the summer I could switch to icees, frozen treats, and lemonade. It’s dawning on me that I’m beginning to talk myself into this.

It’s like I always say, the more dreams you have…The more dreams you have. It keeps life bright.

I hope you have a bright day,

–Mabel

Small Dream Saturday

Small Dream Saturday: Entry 9, My Death

April 1, 2023 MabelLeave a comment

Hello Strangers,

For many years now, I have dreamed of my death.

Now, I know that sounds dark, but listen. My sister and I used to have a game we’d play. We’d talk about how we wanted our bodies to be processed when we die. She, I believe, wanted to be floated in a pool filled with Grape Fanta. I think I wanted to be coated in honey? I’m not entirely sure, but I do remember how I wanted to be buried; In a glass casket, inside a mausoleum with a skylight. I’m not sure death scared me at that point, but being buried terrified me.

Anyhow, it was a hilarious little game we played to amuse ourselves. We laughed because everything we suggested was utterly preposterous.

“Do you know what would happen if we submerged a body in Fanta?”

“How would we even get a whole swimming pool of Fanta?”

“Can you imagine how expensive that would be?”

“Let’s do it.”

But somewhere along the line, I began thinking of my actual death. Would I like to die doing something noble? Is it really best to die in one’s sleep? What would be the most pleasant?

I thought about dying as an old woman surrounded by people at a family picnic, but decided that those usually happen during the summer in the middle of the day and it would be too hot and uncomfortable. Not only that, but there are lots of children at those kinds of things, and I didn’t want to scare my tiny grandchildren and great nieces and nephews; that would just be mean. But still! I wanted to die outside. That much I was sure of. I wanted to die surrounded by people. That much I was sure of. I couldn’t die in the speckled light of the beautiful forest, because again, I could only imagine being alone there, and I didn’t want to be alone. And then who would find me? No, it simply wouldn’t do.

And that’s when I thought of it. My perfect death…

Picture this:

I am an old woman, and it’s midmorning in June. I am out garage sailing with my daughter and nieces—or great nieces—one or the other. We’ve had a lovely, productive morning. We’ve bought lemonade and donuts from a child’s stand. My companions have each bargained for something they wanted; a sweater, a china set, a book, and we’ve come to a nice house with a large oak tree in the yard. I remark that it must be a hundred years old, and I’ve also been looking for a recliner. Lo and behold, this house has one for sale. As everyone peruses, I shuffle over to rock in the chair. Those sun speckles hit my face through the shade of the oak tree. A cool breeze passes over me. I die.

I have effectively ruined the garage sale for everyone else. No one wants the haunted chair, (it’s not haunted, I’m in heaven, but I left that thought for them.) My family is forced to buy the chair, which they scowl at because they knew this was my design. An ambulance is called, there’s all this commotion…But not for me. I got to die surrounded by people I love, doing something I love, having one final bask in the sun. And you know what, it’s not even a bad memory in anyone’s mind. In the end, that death was a very beautiful thing.

I died laughing. Think about that.

–Mabel

Small Dream Saturday

Small Dream Saturday: Entry 8

March 25, 2023March 25, 2023 MabelLeave a comment

Hello Strangers.

I usually try to publish my Small Dream posts earlier in the day, but on this occasion, I’m happy I didn’t. These posts are always meant to be a happy little distraction, or something I’ve been rolling around in my mind that I don’t want to lose, but I don’t always feel them very deeply in the moment. That’s not the case tonight.

This evening I watched a happy little video about an old dog who was doing his after-bath zoomies. His back was stiff and his jumps were short, but there was so much joy in his little face. I couldn’t help but cry. I was immediately struck with grief, knowing that this beautiful animal didn’t have much longer to live, and I thought of my first good boy. Lewis was a wheaten-terrier mix with golden hair and coppery colored ears. He had the wisest brown eyes. He was my faithful friend for fifteen years.

(Not Lewis, but a painting inspired by what I was feeling tonight.)

My dream this week is like a wish. I hope that in heaven, all of the pets are there. In fact, I really hope that every animal, insect, and spider is there. I believe that in the end, the Lord will restore all things tainted or destroyed by evil. And I hope that that means every special animal, with their smiles, barks, jumps, flapping wings, and scurrying feet will be there. Any that were abused, alongside those treated well. Those beloved elephants, horses, and even alligators will be there. (I wanted to paint an alligator this evening. They’re terrifying, but so cute.) I don’t know if they will be. But they might be. They really, really might be. And that excites me. For now, let’s use the time we’ve been given to treat every living thing with love and dignity. Go snuggle with your pets, I am.

Thanks for stopping by,

–Mabel

Small Dream Saturday

Small Dream Saturday: Entry 7

March 11, 2023 MabelLeave a comment

Hello Strangers.

This week’s dream is to be able to pay for dinner.

There is something so human about cooking a meal. The feeling of the knife we use to chop vegetables, the searing meat, the way spices stain our hands and the aromas that bloom in the hot kitchen. An hour into the process, another person appears and sits at the kitchen counter. Maybe they help, maybe you talk. And then together, we sit, both tired, and we eat. To cook as an act of love, meditation, and habit, and then to eat with someone you love is an experience that enriches the inner lives of human beings. And I’ll write more about that, but this week’s dream is to be able to pay for dinner instead.

Last week we were sitting in church and the pastor preached on 1st Peter 3:8. Now, there was a specific message in both that verse and in the pastor’s heart that day, but for some reason, as he spoke it made me ask myself the question,

“What do I want to give?”

In my mind I saw someone crying, and another person putting their arm around them and leading them inside a shop. In case I haven’t mentioned it, I romanticize noodle shops like nothing else. So, on this dismal looking, imaginary day amidst rain and dark skies, there was a golden bright spot. As I watched the narrative continue, two bowls of soup were set in front of them, and the crying girl was still crying. Her body folded inward on itself, eyes wide and wet, her elbows pressed into her thighs under the table, her hair tangled by the rain. I realize now that she looked a lot like me. I was also the one who’d taken her to the shop, and from outside I could only see my back, but it was my trench coat. Both girls were me.

But I knew which one would pay for dinner.

Photo by Kris Mu00f8klebust on Pexels.com

I thought of what it’s like to be a child going out to lunch with their family. Growing up, my dad has always paid. There came a time when I realized that money was being spent and attempted to be conscientious of my part in that, but I never questioned who would pay. It was my dad. Because I knew who was taking responsibility for the bill, I could eat without worry, not having to think about how much it would cost me, if I could afford food for the whole group or just myself, or anything else. It was safe, I was safe, and I could relax.

Every single person I have ever met has had a pain that they carried. Food is just one of the ways we ease that. Sometimes making the food is the order of the day, but sometimes it’s best to simply pay for dinner and let someone else feel safe. Lord willing, there will come a time when I get to do that, and the time will come that I’ll need someone to do that for me as well. After all, I was both of the girls in the shop.

Here’s to the noodle shops,

–Mabel