How Superman Saved Me

Yeah, so I saw Superman Returns. It tugged me on a number of levels.
OK, having had a couple of martunis with my moviegoing buddies beforehand probably helped that alone.

Yeah, a number of levels.

In fact, one scene, near the end, almost destroyed me. In part, I was struck by its closing of the emotional circles from the first - two films. I thought it was a creative masterstroke.

But the scene also revived a bit of my childhood, memories of a strange period that hit me like a backdraft.

Oh man, y'all are gonna think I'm more of a freak then you already do, but, oh well...


It was back when I was still so young.

My gayness was just beginning to express itself but I didn't know what it was.

And it didn't matter anyway, cause I was an outcast.

I was overweight.

I was unloved.



In This Fortress of Solitude

For those early years, I had a rich inner world in my head, shaped in part by the rich outer world of the formative films of my generation.

In my mind, and only for brief and fleeting moments, I would make believe I was a person whom people would respect.

I was Vader, I was Fett, I was Luke, I was Indy.

I was often in the bad guy's uniform, but I was really good. It's just the bad guys had cooler outfits.

I would never, ever, ever actually dress up or act out these fantasies.
They were my own private universe and no one else would understand.

Interestingly, I never, not even for a second thought I could be a superhero, because that would be absurd.



Come With Me as We Break Through the Bonds

For so long, I had toyed with my having a secret life, some special ability – one that would prove to everyone else that I had worth and that I am worthy of love.

I sat an hour in my room, my eyes closed, with my hand outward stretched and cupped, reaching for a glass just a few feet from me.

I tried to feel the glass in my hand. Feel myself pulling it toward me.

For an hour, I concentrated.

For an hour, I tried to feel the force flowing through me: my hand, the air, the glass.

For an hour, I tried not to Try.

And I failed.

And felt a fool for trying.


I so wanted to be something that would prove my value.

And felt a fool for wanting.


I knew, in reality, that I could have no make-believe ability.

I was still a joke.


Then... there was this strange moment of my life where, having failed to find a fictional strength from within, I suddenly looked to a fictional strength from without.

I dreamt one night that Superman arrived to save me.

Yeah, I know.

But he didn't save me from a falling plane or anything.



A Light to Show the Way

(Remember, this is a dream, people. I'm not insane.)

He appears in my room when I am sleeping, looking so much like Christopher Reeve in his beautiful prime.

He just sits next to my bed, leans in close to me, and gently shakes me awake.
And we just talk, in that wordless way people talk in dreams.

He begins in the middle,

"You are not worthless."

"Look at me. Everyone knows I am a joke. I am alone."

"No. Look at me. Look into my eyes."

And I look at his strong face, into his deep blue eyes.

I feel so safe.

He says,

"I can see into your mind. I can see what's inside. I know."
"You know what?"

"You will not be alone. You will never be alone."
"Why can't I see it?"

"Because you're not me. But I see it. Believe me."
"I can't."

Looking at me with deep, unquestionable kindness, he holds my small, young, and pudgy face with a large and sturdy hand and says,

"You should."

A tear streams down my face. I blink to clear my eyes.

And he's gone.

And I am suddenly - now, really - awake, staring at the empty chair where he had been.



The next night, I waited for him to return. To visit another dream.

But he never came back.

And I learned to live without him.

All I had left, tucked back deep in my brain and almost forgotten, were his wordless words.

"You should believe me."