Traveling

I dreamt last night an epic of a dream.


In the midst of the daily grind, I woke up one day and decided I was going to take off. Take a vacation. Get the hell out of dodge. I wasn't going to ask anybody. I was going to take my bike (or car, or something) and cross the country to Los Angeles. I started out on this trek on a bicycle - I would ride cross country. I came to a stop in the road very soon. There was some emergency drill (we thought?) of all the responders, including a boat, a helicopter and a huge tractor-trailer that was blocking traffic. (It was blocking a wedding in progress as well... the bride and father-of-the-bride looked on, frustrated. They were negotiating with the driver about getting out of the traffic).

I got out of my car (off the bike?) and walked in to explore the cluster. I walked into a huge container, like container ships carry but bigger, to discover a whole crew of folks - they apparently traveled with the cargo to transport it, but now their container was empty. I pleasantly informed them I was coming with. I left the bike/car behind and started making friends.

During the trek, I developed a relationship with one of the guys... he was sweet, lovely, and as soon as I got to Los Angeles he pretty much evaporated from the dream. Originally he was part of my plans for visiting, but he got lost somewhere along the way.

I bought a scooter as soon as we got to LA, but I only used it once. I met up with my brother, and my mom was there, and one more friend... and spent a good part of the end of the dream walking through confusing streets and finding my way back to them. I felt lost the whole time - the streets made no sense to me, they had no apparent layout (think San Francisco meets Boston), and I was disoriented time and time again. And I knew that it was a huge city, so I was afraid everything would be very far apart.

When I called my brother, he met us within 5 minutes, so I knew he lived close. I separated from the group to run an errand or something of that nature, and had rely on my own sense of direction to get back. I had no phone, no way to get in touch with them, no plan for when and where to meet. I walked through neighborhoods, including a park with a performance space (theater or opera house?), but realized that was the wrong direction... and ended up going through this huge entertainment center - like Dave and Busters but outside. It was almost like a Disney Theme park, and so crowded. Once I made it through that, suddenly around the corner the landscape flattened and it was almost swampy - I swear I remember seeing Spanish moss covered cypress. I turned a corner in what was now a quiet neighborhood - and a straight street! - and there was Judson, Mom and friend.

Needless to say, I was very proud of my sense of direction.

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The dreams of travel are significant. I am going through some kind of trek lately, but the route and destination are hugely unknown.

I can't figure out why I still miss him.

He's been gone nearly a month. Perhaps a month this weekend.

And yet, tonight, driving home, I started reminiscing with myself about the first time I met him. It's been so long, now, that I don't really remember all the details - not all the silly things I first romanticized. But I do remember going home with him and its almost impossible for me to fathom doing that again with anyone else.

I'm sure it will happen again - I'm sure I will be attracted to other men again. I don't feel particularly attractive myself now, so that's part of it, perhaps.

I just want him to figure out whatever he's got to figure out and then figure out that he left one of the best things behind and come Do something about it. And he won't because he's not The One but if he was, that's what he'd do.

Next

Why is life a series? Why is there a first, next, and then, finally... We are taught from children about beginning-middle-end, and then here we are, in lives, waiting for the next step. The big conflict. The denoument.

I am sitting in my kitchen, eating chocolate cake, wondering what I will do next. This is an idea I have been batting around ever since Gatsby left. I need something new to focus on, some next Big Project.

1. I am fat. It would be good to be the next Ms. Universe. I am considering it. Although I don't enjoy every workout nearly as much as I should for a hobby to which I would consider devoting a significant percentage of waking hours.

2. I could revisit the plan to watch every Academy Award Best Picture-winning film. Hrm. It would require renewing my blockbuster subscription and replacing my DVD player.

3. Finishing the house. Which will never be done and will forever be an ongoing hobby, really. The joy of homeownership.

4. I have been invited to sit on the board of a local theatre company, which it seems I will end up doing. I don't want to commit to them before I really have the faith that I believe in what they are doing. Maybe that just means I should go see their show this weekend and figure out if they deserve my energy.

5. There is always My theatrical sidebar. The production of one-woman shows. The preparation of audition pieces. Taking of headshots. I'm not so good without deadlines.

6. Honestly, I have seriously considered taking up golf. I might enjoy it.

For christ's sake - here I am, desperately searching for something to do that has two major qualities: (A) it is new (and therefore, I can learn something, which I find very fulfilling) and (B) it is fun.

Why is this such a hard target?

I Slit His Throat With a Bread Knife

So that was disturbing.

Just had a flashback of last night's dream. I remember sleeping fitfully, as I've been sick. But the most striking part of the dream was about killing a man. Who it was, I don't remember. I don't think he was anyone, and yet he could have been anyone.

First, it was a nick. Then I slice a C-shape into his abdomen. It was totally effortless. Finally, I reach over and slit his throat. With a serrated bread knife. I watched as I made contact, but close my eyes when I hit the adam's apple - I couldn't watch that much.

What had he done?

Another Academic Dream

How many dreams do we all have of being back in school and realizing we are unprepared for an exam? Last night:

Not only am I unprepared, but I am behind in all my schoolwork. I have reenrolled in a university, getting a Master's, but still undecided in what. I am much more conscious of the Return on Investment, and am constantly aware of the ticking tab that I am running up. I am taking history and literature classes, and ones I don't really have much drive or interest in - but there I am, again, way behind, overwhelmed.

Add to that unsure what I'm doing or what I want to do. I think perhaps I should switch schools and do Psych services as I once considered years ago.

And then I was going to the coffeeshop, on the corner of my street, and got inside and there was a "green" fast food store that charged me $8.50 for a sweet potato glazed in white icing, and then got to the coffeeshop only for it to be a McDonald's. Ugh. And as I was leaving, there was a man in the parking lot who really intrigued me and did something and I tried to give him my card... but in an instant, he was gone.


As I was studying for, or preparing for, one of the many classes in which I was behind, I was laying in bed with a gay male friend of mine. There was some history there - because he was gay he was "safe," I had kissed him on occasion after being drunk or some such. But there we were laying in bed watching something or reading, and he asked if he could "hug me" and before I knew it he was putting the moves on me and in a more-than-pushy way and...

He was supposed to be safe. I trusted him, and even he took advantage of me.
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This dream has me so disturbed. I was sad and weepy all day today, which is linked to being sick and tired and not having the energy to do all the things I wanted. Or rather, all the things I Intended.

My life has grown very practical, very efficient. Didn't I learn from Gatsby how important Fun is? Even my Fun is weighed down by cooking for 20 people and working for days to clean the house. When will I allow myself something to do that is simply joyful.

I'm not sure I know what that is.

My Neighbors: the Grandfolks I Didn't Know

or, Why I love New Orleans.

My boss asked me to drop off a present at her fiance's cousin's house. It happens to be about 2 blocks from my house, so being kindly and respectful of said boss's hesitance to waste gas, I agreed to drop off said present.

After a long day of meetings and frustrations and Anger at Things Beyond My Control, I went to the gym, to discover my Pilates class was canceled (Grrr! I mean, Get well soon Pilates teacher!) and I had to go to spinning instead. There are worse things, actually, since the cardio was probably good for my mood. When I got home and returned bestfriend J-'s call, he reminded me to Eat Something. "Hey! When was the last time you ate, Low Blood Sugar? Go have dinner."

And then I walked down to My Neighbor's house. They live two blocks down the Avenue, and from the front porch it didn't even seem like anybody was there. I hung it on the door and rang the bell and considered leaving, but I was pretty sure that would be rude. And they'd wonder why Boss & Fiance didn't stop to say hi. So a woman came to the door, I explained who I was and what I was doing there, and she insisted I come inside.

No, really, I resisted. I just got back from the gym, I don't even have a bra on. Well, I omitted the last part, but you don't really want that to be the first time you meet anybody, right? You want to at least be confident you smell vaguely appealing.

Yes, really, she insisted. She leads me through two parlors, two kitchens, until we emerge into the hidden back dining room, where I come upon GrandPo and GrandMo and the woman's partner and they are just finishing dinner. This makes me feel much worse, but instantly GrandMo welcomes me, insists that if they had more wine they would make me drink it. They reminisce about how wonderful Boss's Fiance is (his gifts, fwiw, were terrifically thoughtful and kind considering GrandPo is having surgery tomorrow) - and GrandMo brings me to the kitchen to show me the mugs he gave her, and gets teary eyed thinking about Jazz Fest. She is slightly embarrassed, but not so much that she stops crying, and we both know its because her GrandHusband-Po of many many years is having surgery and we are all getting old and dying and why does that have to happen and yet people still love us and bring us incredibly thoughtful gifts.

She walks me out to the door, and thanks me again for coming, invites me back anytime, and tell me to thank Boss for choosing me to send as the messenger.

My two blocks home were totally different than my two blocks there. Maybe it was my blood sugar evening out, but I felt so grateful to live here and sorry for the folks who were gone or who weren't from here originally and didn't have our disease. Because I would have invited me in and offered me wine and told me a story. I will, in 50 years, when I am GrandMo's age.

I still think about him. I mean, on the one hand: Duh. He left a week ago. Of Course I still think about it. On the other hand: Hello! He left! He hasn't called! If he wanted to be with you he would be!

Now is the time to cut the ties, to let this one go, time to move on and make a life with yourself and without Him. And yet... I still keep coming back to it. I guess when I know for sure I'm not pregnant, I'll move right on. Except I'll still spend notes and expect to get one back or to hear from him or something.

I think it was the last time we had sex, he said aftwards "That was wonderful." It was. It was every time. I am much more prepared to let go of him than nearly any other man I've dated, and yet... he was the closest to best for me, right? But again, watch the movie til its over!

And it ain't over yet, and that's the weird thing.


In other news: I have cleaned the bedroom, kitchen, and much of the living room. Actually, the living room is probably less clean, but that's hard because there still so much Work to be done. I still haven't been inspired by the next Project. Joining a charter school board, or learning to play golf. I need to find a Project that's Fun. That might be harder than I think.

This morning I took a pregnancy test.

I'm not scheduled to start for at least 5 more days, but I feel fat and the girls are painfully swollen and I thought, Ha! Wouldn't that be ironic?

It was negative.



So that's good news, I guess. Even though, of course, I have made up the conversation with Gatsby at least three times. "Are you sitting down..?" or "Ha, so are you ready for the funny part? Right? I'm pregnant. No, really. That's hilarious, right?"

And it's not very likely that I'm pregnant at all. I've just put on 5-10# from the stupid concert series and the end of the stupid concert series and stupid Gatsby leaving and throwing stupid parties and generally not caring about myself at all. I guess throwing my back out didn't help, but I did finally see the Chiropractor yesterday and he put everything back in order and it's amazing because today my back is Completely Normal. One might argue it was on its way back to completely normal anyway, as the pain was subsiding day by day - but I like to thank my chiropractor.



And this morning I made a deal with myself that I would make my bed every morning. And I would dedicate one day to cleaning each room of my house. That way, when I got overwhelmed or distracted from one room to the next... well, I could say, "No, the living room isn't until Tuesday." I think the living room will be Sunday, actually.

Although it feels very hard to clean a room that's still not finished. And the living room isn't, with its half-installed crown moulding and weird closets with amateur mudding. It all begins to get very overwhelming, and then some days I decide I want a dishwasher so I take all the doors off the cabinets and measure and...

At least I put the doors back on the same day. There have definitely been periods of my life where I would have just stacked the cabinet doors against each other away from the refrigerator and the sink and the trash can and I wouldn't have done anything about it for weeks.


So this is all to say I have been very tired lately. Very tired. Sleeping 12 hours a night and having a hard time getting up. Last night I dreamt I drank from an antique champagne bowl my brother bought only to discover the glass was breaking out of the decorative pattern, and then it was too late when I realized it had finishing nails in it and I now had finishing nails stuck in my throat. And then I got furious at him for leaving the antique flatware (that was glass, maybe?) in the dishwasher with dishcloths over it because clearly it would mold or rust or something, and then I realized halfway through yelling at him that he had set the dishwasher to "soak" them and I was yelling for no reason. And then I just started bawling inconsolably.

Maybe I shouldn't mix gin with chocolate martinis and four-cheese fries.

Afternoon Entertainment

1. Send winks to really hideously ugly Match.com guys, to brighten their day. I can't decide if this is cruel or not.

2. Call 911 and make my coworker look for the cute Cop she just met.

Bye Bye Baby

I miss you.

That's it, mostly. I'm sad you could leave me, but I understand why.

I wonder how you really feel about me. I wonder if I made as much of an impact on you as vice versa. I wonder if there are real emotions under that nonchalant Gatsby exterior.

Because it would help me to see them now, and it would make it much harder. I don't know why I expect people to change after I've known them for a period of time.