So, I recently saw this movie The Time Traveler’s Wife and it’d pretty much be an understatement if I told ya I didn’t cry like a baby who hadn’t had a morsel in ages.
As the movie began, I pinned it as a sci-fi movie, and sat down, popcorn in hand, waiting for the ridonkulous scientific never-possible-other-than-in-hollywood stuff to begin. I like to believe I was tickled even for the movie to start.
But, as the movie progressed further, it hit me that it was a feel-good, cry-your-balls-out movie.
Too late to exchange the popcorn with the box of Kleenex.
Now, the trick with these feel-good movies is that if you see 30 seconds or more of the movie, you are hooked. You can kiss sleep bye-bye for the night. All you CAN do is curl up into a ball, and slowly let it all go as the blanket begs for a respite from all those salty tear stains.
Be quick, and make sure the movie isn’t a feel-good sucker in LESS THAN 30 SECONDS. Legit.
This movie, in a nutshell, is about a guy who has some chronic disorder that causes his DNA to alter, thereby, allowing him to travel in time, visit places of his memory.
The highlight is, of course, when he travels back to a time, at some meadow, and meets a little girl, who happens to be his future wife, the great love of his life. He returns to the little girl in the meadow often after that.
I thought the movie was so beautiful, it made my eyes cryyyyyyyyy a riveeeeeeeeer. *cue michael buble voice*
But, I later realized I was reminded of so many things at once.
When I was in school, I was one of those nerds who was always reading. Yes, I was in the basketball team. But, I was still THAT girl. The one who leaves the library with four books that she somehow convinced the librarian to release. (those were the one-book-at-a-time days)
I was in 6th I suppose, when I had read this book; the name, very regrettably, I do not remember.
It was a similar story. Except that this guy, the main protagonist in the book, met a girl in the meadows of his aunt’s big house. A girl about 7 years old, his age. He met her in his dreams.
Every night, he would dream that he walked out the back door of his aunt’s humongous house, and instead of being greeted with the waste baskets and the dingy smell of something burning on the concrete floor, he’d see green meadows.. A stream of clear water flowing nearby.. And a girl in pigtails.. He met her every night, until he realized that she grew with every visit. She grew from the girl in the pigtails who’d just lost her mum, to the young girl blossoming into a woman, to the woman romanticizing about her prince charming, to the woman engaged to be married.
And with every visit, he himself would go thinner. Thinner as in, more transparent. She could see right through him. And finally, when he stopped seeing her in his dreams, and the concrete floors with the dingy smell remained the concrete floors with the dingy smell, he was devastated.
I wouldn’t like to ruin the suspense of the book. But, the book left a deep impact on me.
And then, I remembered the phase of my life, where I had the weirdest dreams ever. I still do. But, then, it was every night.
Every night, I’d have a weird dream about going somewhere, or acquiring some super power or something. And every night there would be this one guy in my dreams. His face is blurred in my memory, but all I remember about him was the way he held my hands, if and when I was too scared. Dreams run mute, I have noticed. So, I never heard his face.
I remember feeling absolutely frustrated when his lips would move, I would squint my sight just to make out what he was saying, but in vain.
The Time Traveler’s Wife had me thinking about these two things, the book and the dreams. I realized I shed all those tears because this concept of meeting someone in a different realm altogether as opposed to the walk-into-the-nearest-bar method adored me so much, it refused to get its roots out of my brain.
I guess sci-fi’s deeper in me than I realized.
Oh god, I’m inviting a life of pain..