Easter Dream

I wonder if now that I can drink again, now that I allow myself to drink again, if I will stop waking up at 6 or 6:30. I used to think I did this in my old apartment because the sun came in the window. Well, that is why, but was a drinking then? I don't think I was.

This morning I was awoken by a nightmare of sorts.



I was traveling, and in New York. Vincent (left) lived there [I use his name only because we are not friends now, and this is a dream afterall], and we made plans to get together. I drove downtown, and came to the party where I was supposed to meet him and X [his real-life ex-], only to discover a huge building like an old department store, lit up like a rave but with everyone streaming out of it. I assumed the rave had been busted.

I park my car out front, find Vincent, and he tries to convince me to come to his house - except he lives across town, and I don't have enough time. So he drives around the block, and drops me off again so I can get my car. I may follow him to his house, or I may just go home. I wanted to be home by midnight, because I had an early flight the next morning, and it was about 10:15 by that point. Enough time to kill, but not enough time to do something.

So I get out of the car, and I can't find my car. Anywhere. I suddenly feel drunk, as if I had parked my car at the beginning of the night and am now unable to find it. First, I feel stupid. Then I see a taxi and a van pushed together, and elevated to height of about 25 feet. As if they had been raised on one of those magical parking lifts, except the lift was imaginary. I recognize the cars as being where I had parked my car, and I suddenly realize my car is stolen - with everything in it. Including my purse, with my phone and my wallet.

I see my bag in a box crushed between the two cars, and I think perhaps my things are there. These two black ladies arrive, and I think they are behind the whole scam. I start explaining to them, and they deny that they know anything. So I break out; I'm sobbing, hysterical. I tell them I'll claim the car and everything on my insurance, only all I need is my driver's license so I can get on the plane tomorrow: "All I want is to go home". I'm screaming, crying, begging - and I think as it begins to work, I wake up.



So what is THAT about? "I don't care about my stuff I just want to go home" - that's Katrina, through and through. I will never forget driving from Lafayette to Baton Rouge, and seeing the 610/I10 split, and realizing I couldn't go home. I cried and cried, for the first time since I got to Houston.

What concerns me: my car and identity stolen, missing. It was my fault, I felt, for leaving it in a bad neighborhood - without realizing it was a bad neighborhood. But also, I knew it could all be replaced. I could simply claim it in insurance - I wasn't going to try to get it back. Or maybe I would start over: but in the end, I didn't care. I just wanted my ID back to get on that plane and go home. Home Home Home. All's I cared about.