Monday, October 31, 2005
"Worry is like a rocking chair--it gives you something to do but it doesn't get you anywhere." *Anonymous*
"When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened."
"Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow."
Friday, October 28, 2005
We're cheering too. We're taking the good over the bad. We're learning that we have not appreciated the little things nearly as much as we have suffered the bad.
Of a long forgotten place.
High up on a hill
the cool wind in my face.
The air was clean and clear
and I could see for miles around...
And in my heart
I knew I had come home
In my soul
there was this peace I'd never know.
And so I laid my claim
to this sacred place I'd found.
AND I STAND THE MIDDLE GROUND!"
I got one e-mail from my sister. It said nothing more than this:
She's so young. All I want to do is put my arms around her and make her KNOW this is going to turn out fine. I wish I knew that.
She's lucky though. She was too young to remember all the other times we went through this.
I wish I could save us all from the pain.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Stick that in your I-pod and smoke it. :)
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
I am completely numb.
So many images are rushing up - and I am not seeing them. I am pushing them away. I will not accept them.
I have a million things to say....and nothing at all to say.
This morning the enemy had no name. I don't know which is worse.
What I came up with was:
Bird of Paradise - for Zen Kathy
(pretty close, huh?)
I'm taking that as a sign that peace is looking for us even though we cannot see it just now.
Dad has been in the hospital for one week. He has had this bizarre fever for 5 weeks.
He has been X-rayed, sonogrammed, CAT scanned, cultured, worked up and filled with antibiotics of varying types. Nothing has changed. Nothing!
Our family is torn between desperate humor and trepadacious terror. The doctors and nurses all freely exclaim that my father is an anomoly. No one has seen such a thing as this.
Aside from this, my father is a healthy man. He works hard and lives well and loves deeply. He wants more than anything to be home with his family. He wants to play with his grandsons and spend time outside and drive to the store on Saturdays to buy a lottery ticket.
He wants to be normal again. None of us can understand why he's not.
Yesterday they did a biopsy of the "thing" in his lung. The theory is that he has inhaled something and that his body is empathically fighting that thing. Maybe today we'll find out it was a piece of a pecan shell he inhaled while mowing the yard. We'd like very much for it to be something we can joke about.
In the interim we pray. What if it isn't something we can joke about? What if he won't ever get better?
So much fear.
These songs have been haunting my days:
"Goodbye, Michelle, my little one.
You gave me love and helped me find the sun.
And every time that I was down
you would always come around
and get my feet back on the ground.
Goodbye, Michelle, it's hard to die
when all the bird are singing in the sky,
Now that the spring is in the air.
With the flowers ev'rywhere.
I whish that we could both be there.
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.
But the stars we could reach
were just starfishs on the beach"
"Looking back over the years
And whatever else that appears
I remember I cried when my father died
Never wishing to hide the tears
And at sixty-five years old
My mother, God rest her soul
Couldn't understand why the only man
She had ever loved had been taken
Leaving her to start
With a heart so badly broken
Despite encouragement from me
No words were ever spoken
And when she passed away
I cried and cried all day
Alone again, naturally"
"And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
"When you coming home, dad?" "I don't know when,
But we'll get together then.
You know we'll have a good time then."
Dad would be ashamed. He'd want me to listen to Jimmy Buffett or something more amusing.
"These changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes,
Nothing remains quite the same.
Through all of the islands and all of the highlands,
If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane.
If we weren't crazy we'd all go insane.""
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Monday, October 24, 2005
-Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.
Photo by Rich Olivieri
Thanks for the trip back to God's country Rich.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
He's so very bored though. We are all so spoiled with out satellite dishes and Tivo and laptops and cd players. He won't even allow a laptop to be brought in. He's afraid it will grow legs and walk off.
I left him with a deck of playing cards and suggested he play some "low-tech" solitaire. I also left a puzzle book to while away the time.
ANYWAY - I'm home and the last four days were a month long. I thought I'd bring some pictures. What's a trip without bad piccies? Huh? (besides, we do need to lighten up a bit, huh?)
Christa, remember that I hate freeways? Well, here are a few photos I took while driving down them. That makes me the biggest hazzard on the road. LOL
South to Houston - the most boring drive in the whole state:
The speed limit is 70mph.
This is me NOT doing the speed limit. (lead foot)
This...is an oil well. We have many. It's part of the scenery.
(why don't they make oil wells look like trees?)
This is the high point of the drive (I couldn't get a photo of it at 80mph)
Isn't he hideous? 67 feet of white-marble-dead-guy smacked into the trees. Blech!
Across the highway from that is Huntsville state prison. It's actually more attactive.
Here's a not-quite-awake-yet happy face that makes every trip worthwhile:
And finally - four days later - the Dallas Skyline on the horizon. Ahhhh...that's about an hour from the house and it's a sigh of relief for a cramped back and a full bladder.
There - I've spared you from ever having to take that drive. I don't recommend it anyway. :)
Love to all.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
With that in mind, I am posting here for myself as much as I am to keep everyone in the loop. I need to log these days and moments. I need to release the anxieties. I may need somewhere to go to remember.
***Medical Science is not a science.
I am not a doctor. I have no knowledge of what it is like to be a doctor. It is not at all like television shows. Not even the reality ones. The difference between what we watch and what we live lies in the editing.
It is too easy for us to believe that going into the hospital means a number of strangers with medical degrees will congregate about discussing all of our symptoms and will magically come up with not only the answer but the potion to cure it.
This is a misconception.
What actually happens is this: You are admitted. A round-the-clock staff logs readings from various machines over a period of hours. Sometimes you have bloodtests, cultures and a variety of photos.
One doctor takes this information and makes a diagnosis based on past experience and relevant histories. He then treats you for this diagnosis. This is not the answer. It is actually just another question.
The doc says "We think it is pneumonia." So he treats you for pneumonia. If that doesn't work, then you've ruled out pneumonia.
The doc says "We think it is (insert relevant ailment here)." So he treats you for ailment. If that doesn't work, then you've ruled out ailment.
Later, rinse and repeat.
THIS is medical science.
I'm not offended. It's the best we can do.
Dad update 10-22-05:
We've ruled out pneumonia.
His fever goes down in the early hours of the morning. It stays just above normal most of the afternoon, then it inexplicably raises to 103 - 104 degrees just after 5:00p.m.
This is the pattern of the day.
He was receiving a daily dose of bacterial antibiotic. This made no change.
Yesterday, Dr. Bashra decided we need a different antibiotic. Dad got that some time in the night.
Also called in...Dr Carillo - Infectious Diseas Specialist.
I'm surfing the internet for symptoms of West Nile Virus (Which I've ruled out btw.) and we're joking about "Bird Flu".
At least it's not Mad Cow.
I joke...but we don't laugh. It seems like nothing is a joke anymore. We are frustrated and angry and tired.
My Dad wants to go home, but his sentence has been extended at least until Monday or even Tuesday. He wants to lash out at everyone. He wants to scream from boredom.
He makes harsh remarks because he is so very frustrated. My poor mother gets the brunt of this. She wants nothing more than for him to come home as well.
She wants to fix him and feels helpless. Her eyes brim with tears most of the time.
I tried to get her to come home - and she wants permission to do so. She needs rest. But she reminded me, "We have been together since I was 18yrs old. In 41 years we have slept apart maybe 9 times!"
She loves him so very much. They love each other. But they are so bathed in fear and uncertainty that they hang on every word....every inflection of hope or despair.
This is a brutal roller coaster.
We had a bad moment last night. It is my nature to demand. I am a control freak and I will speak my mind to anyone when things are out of control.
My mother is taking on far too much. She watches over my father all night. She wakes to give him Ibuprofin every four hours. She wakes if he has chills or sweats from fever. She changes his sheets over and over again and cleans him up and puts him back to bed.
She and he, keep making comments that "the nurses are so busy" or "they wouldn't know his fever had gone up if we didn't tell them". I heard this sort of thing for most of the day yesterday. By nighttime I had had my fill.
I tried to push Mom into telling the nurses they need to check on him every 2 - 4hrs all night. She just wouldn't do it.
So I did. I have nothing to lose. No one does. I am angry because she won't TELL them to help her.
I was chided very badly for "offending" the nurse. I didn't offend anyone. In truth, I didn't even say anything to the nurse. I said to my mother IN FRONT of the nurse "You need them to come in here. You need to know that she heard you and I don't think she heard you. You have to tell them what you need!"
I think Mom finally broke and started doing it last night. I hope so. She cannot continue to take on this much...and it's not her place...and she isn't qualified...and they're paying through the nose so it's OK to be demanding.
No one needs to be rude, but someone has to be demanding.
Enough for now. The days are running one into the other and I cannot tell them apart. I have to leave tomorrow and I will leave without knowing. I will be making trips back and fourth until this is resolved.
Dear God - Dad is not a test case. Give him back!
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Dad's doing better. He looks pale to me but his fever has subsided. Poor Mom. She takes care of everyone in spite of her own health. I wish she wouldn't. We all do. But...I am just like her in that respect so I wholly understand and will not fight her on it. I just want to give her an out and let her get some rest.
I hope my mother will let me relieve her tomorrow. I can entertain my father all day. She needs to sleep.
Tonight she will stay, again, at the hospital with Dad. She has been feeding him Ibuprofin every four hours on the dot. Tylenol didn't work so she got he docs consent to override that order.
Still he spent last night with chills and some fever. This morning his fever was down and it seems to be staying that way. We'll see what the morning holds.
Tomorrow will include another CAT scan of the lung. The "thing" is not yet wholly identified. It has been described as "an abcess" and "necrophatic tissue" and "a nodule" and "an aspirated aggrivation". Let's stick with "the thing" for now.
It is not cancerous. Maybe we should call it "the non-cancerous thing".
**Sidenote: Tonight will be the first night in my whole life that I will sleep alone in my childhood home. That is a very odd feeling. Fortunately, I'm tired so it should be ok.
Thanks again to all who are watching and keeping us in your thoughts. :)
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
The doctors went in and looked inside Dad's lungs with a camera. Eww! and Cool! at the same time. LOL
They determined that the spot is NOT cancerous. (Whew!!!)
However, he does have pneumonia. This is his fourth week of fever.
He will remain in the hospital for a few days on I.V. fluids and antibiotics and we will pray that the fever breaks.
The doctors said the thing in his lung is "something he aspirated in". So, Dad did inhale. Exactly what he inhaled, we do not know.
I am driving to Houston tomorrow (Thursday) morning. I'll be there all weekend and back on Monday if all goes well. (and it will!!!!)
I will post when and if I can. Until then, I will check your comments as often as possible.
Love to you all. Keep telling stories to brighten our lives. :)
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Then I got the phone call.
It's the phone call I've always dreaded. I've always known we'd get it one day, but a person goes through life hoping that day is always 20 yrs into the future.
My sister called at 5:30 p.m. yesterday. (because she is the talker of the family and has been designated "news giver") She called me at work. This isn't good. You know that right off the bat.
She said "Well you know what's been going on for the last three weeks, right?"
I said, quite stunned "Um...no."
This is the biggest drawback of not living in the same city as my family.
She dropped the bomb "Dad is in the hospital."
...and the words rang in my ears, chilled through my body and took my breath away....
Cautiously, I asked "Why?"
**And I digress: My father and I have a bond. It's different than the bond I have with the rest of my family. I love them all but my father is my hero. He's my sanity.
In all my life I cannot recall one time when I have questioned his judgement. I rebelled against it a few times, but I never questioned it.
He is my rock.
I KNOW this call will come someday. It is a fear in the back of my mind at all times. I cannot fathom life without him. I CANNOT.
There is history here. His mother had cancer...three times.
She had two mastectomies and died of lung cancer in her early 70s.
His father died of lung cancer (Camel unfiltered) at the young age of 60.
None of the men in my father's family lived past the age of 65 years.
This little grey cloud of knowledge has hung ominously over our heads for ages.
My father is 63.
My father smoked from his late teens until a few years ago when he finally was able to quit. (3 or 5 years - I can't recall now)
We hoped (he hoped too) that quitting would extend that....lift the curse...free us.
Sidenote: Everyone I know who has quit smoking has found cancer within the next few years. Who's doing the study on that?! Where's the prevention?
So I called him last night and his spirits are good. His voice sounds like my brother's when my brother was very young. It is higher pitched now. Dad says he doesn't know what has caused that.
He was very winded which he excused with "I just climbed up on this hospital bed." I wasn't buying that.
He told me, between breaths, the story of the past three weeks:
He had a cold with a fever. He went to the doctor (physician's assistant) and was told he had a virus. No antibiotics, because antibiotics won't cure a virus. "Give it a week. It will pass."
I spoke with him on the phone at th end of that week. He was feeling better. He thought it was going away.
That was the last I knew.
Since then his fever has come and gone. Sometimes it got as high as 104 degrees.
He got in to see the doctor again on Monday 10-17.
They took X-rays. They saw a cloud on his lung.
They suggested a cat scan.
The reading of the cat scan suggests there is a "5 centimeter tumor in the upper right quadrant that might have metasticized into a rib." The doctor referred him to another doctor. Dr. Bashra.
Dr. Bashra phoned my father at home on Monday night and asked him if he wanted to check into the hospital that night or wait until Tuesday.
My father replied "Um, I'm eating dinner right now."
My parents had a night of tears together. The call had come for them too.
He checked in on Tuesday afternoon.
He met Dr. Bashra at the hospital. Dr. Bashra said "I just don't think this is cancer. It doesn't look like cancer. It looks like pneumonia maybe. It's soft tissue. Not a tumor."
Dad says "I love Dr. Bashra!"
I love him too. I hope like all hell that he knows his stuff and that he's right.
They put in an I.V. last night and I got off the phone so they could rest. I'll call again in the morning.
Today they will go into his lung with a camera.
Dear Dad, I love you with every fiber of being that I am. Please, please be ok. Please don't leave me. Don't leave us.
We need you. And you are that little baby boy's best friend in the whole world. You just can't go now. You have to watch him grow up some more.
I love you,
Sigh. - OK...so....I was going to start a post on childhood memories and now seems like a perfect time. For all you bloggers, I hope you have at least one wonderful memory to share. Send me a happy thought.
Here is one of mine:
Back in the early 90s Houston built a tollroad. They built it at the end of my parent's street. When it was finished, and before it was opened, it sat empty...many miles and many lanes of virgin concrete with no traffic at all.
One clear, cool Saturday my father got a wild hair and gathered up myself and my sister. "Go get your bikes!" he encouraged. And we did.
Then we followed him to that tollroad.
I can't, for the life of me, remember how we got ON that elevated concrete, but we did. Together we rode. We rode full out, as fast as we could. We rode without hands. We did figure 8s around each other.
We felt the wind and the warm sun on our faces.
We laughed like we owned the world.
He was a teenager again. We were all kids together. We felt alive and it was written in our uncontrollable, full-face grins.
It was a good day.
It was a great day.
Please share your stories. Dad loves to laugh. I love the kid in him. I can't think of a better way to think of him right now.
Don't you just want to be in this moment?
I'm a kid, layin in the grass, looking up at the clouds. I don't have a worry in the world!
He's smiling behind that pacifier.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Here's a strange moment for you: I did one this morning that I wasn't really intending to post. I named it and saved it. It is named PURPLE IRIS.
I was stunned when I saw the title of yours. And I had a great laugh.
It is not at all the same Iris. LMAO.
Here is my inspiration for it:
Funny little world we live in, huh?
Saturday, October 15, 2005
So, here are my (very novice) fractals o' the moment. Let's see how I did:
Hmmm - wasn't that fuzzy before I rendered....
Raindance (work in progress)
LENNON (my crowning achievement)
In addition, I'm going to try to do one of those hour-long fractal renders. That should hog up all the CPUs but I'll be vacuuming so I won't notice. ;)
Friday, October 14, 2005
brought to you tonight by Chris Isaak
"I Like The Way You Move"
Linny, I'm hoping you have a "not needing to slam people's head into things" kind of day.
Trée, I will be providing the soundtrack to tonight's FNF - if you are up for it.
The tune will be Chris Isaak's "I Like The Way You Move".
Everyone have a splendid day.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
“I am breathing in and liberating my mind. I am breathing out and liberating my mind.” One practices like this.
-The Sutra on Full Awareness of Breathing, translated by Thich Nhat Hanh
PS - The shakuhachi sounds attracted my cat, who stared in wonderment at the speakers, as if remembering an ancient past life.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
DINAH IN HEAVEN
by Rudyard Kipling
She did not know that she was dead
But, when the pang was o'er,
Sat down to wait her Master's tread
Upon the Golden Floor,
With ears full-cock and anxious eyes,
But ignorant that Paradise
Did not admit her kind.
There was one step along the Stair
That led to Heaven's Gate;
And, till she heard it, her affair
Was -- she explained -- to wait.
And she explained with flattened ear,
Bared lip and milky tooth--
Storming against Ithuriel's Spear
That only proved her truth!
Sudden -- far down the Bridge of Ghosts
That anxious spirits clomb--
She caught that step in all the hosts,
And knew that he had come.
She left them wondering what to do,
But not a doubt had she.
Swifter than her own squeal she flew
Across the Glassy Sea;
Flushing the Cherubs everywhere,
And skidding as she ran,
She refuged under Peter's Chair
And waited for her man.
* * * * * *
There spoke a Spirit out of the press,
'Said: -- "Have you any here
That saved a fool from drunkenness,
And a coward from his fear?
"That turned a soul from dark to day
When other help was vain;
That snatched it from Wanhope and made
A cur a man again?"
"Enter and look," said Peter then,
And set the Gate ajar.
"If I know aught of women and men
I trow she is not far."
"Neither by virtue, speech nor art
Nor hope of grace to win;
But godless innocence of heart
That never heard of sin:
"Neither by beauty nor belief
Nor white example shown.
Something a wanton -- more a thief --
But -- most of all -- mine own."
"Enter and look," said Peter then,
"And send you well to speed;
But, for all that I know of women and men
Your riddle is hard to read."
Then flew Dinah from under the Chair,
Into his arms she flew --
And licked his face from chin to hair
And Peter passed them through!
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Vertigo is actually more like the fifth shot of tequila. It's that moment when you realize you've had too much liquor. It's knowing that the nausea would go away if you could just stop the room from spinning for a few minutes. It's also knowing that's not going to happen.
I'm not a hypochondriac. I am the opposite of a hypochondriac. I wonder if there's a word for that.
I will go ages without ever telling anyone what ails me. That's actually unfortunate for me.
I am reminded of the great, immortal words of singer Warren Zevon as he was interviewed by David Letterman just months before his death from cancer.
David Letterman: "So, knowing that the end is near, is there anything that you regret?"
Warren Zevon: "Yeah, I regret not going to the doctor."
Regardless, this marks the second occasion and I felt the need to write that down. Mostly because I didn't write it down the first time and I can no longer recall when that was. 6 months ago? 8? Ugh. I'm horrible at remembering dates and times.
So, let's talk about the beginnings of this silliness.
The VOICES told me to:
September of 2004 (or so) I had an odd lump on the right side of my head. It wasn't visible from the outside but I could feel it. It turned out to be a lymph node and I had it removed in January. (Nasty surgery - I don't recommend it.)
The location of the lump was directly over my right eardrum and, I later learned, the main facial nerve went THROUGH this lymph node. Anomolies like this cause strange side effects. Prior to the surgeries, I heard voices. The disembodied kind. Eeeeeep.
I would be sitting in a restaurant and hear my name spoken directly and clearly into my right ear. I would turn, and even answer, assuming someone had recognized me and come up behind me. Nope. I was alone. No one there.
It happened 3 times that I can remember. The time I realized what was happening was in my home. The voice I heard on that occasion was female. I was alone in the house.
I suddenly had a full and clear understandin of what psychotics mean when they say they hear voices. That was freaking ODD.
I haven't heard the voices since ther surgery. More odd; I miss them.
And then there's Tennitus:
All was well and I'm healing up. I had hoped the removal of the lymph node would also offer some relief from the sinus/allergy issues that have been gaining momentum over the past two years or so. I guess not.
I can remember when I didn't have tennitus. That would be around 2000 or so. A friend mentioned that he had it. I remember thinking "That's gotta suck." I had no idea.
Tennitus is a ringing in the ears. For those of you who can hear this frequency, it is the sound a television makes in an empty room with the mute on. It is a high-pitched whine.
This whine NEVER goes away. There are no moments without it. It is much worse at night when other things are quiet. Regardless, it is not generally louder than the things around you.
But...in the past year, and since the surgery, the tennitus changes with the weather. There are days I feel as if I am at the bottom of a 10ft swimming pool. I feel as though both ears are full of water and I cannot get that water out. I even tried for a while before I realiezed the water isn't reachable.
Then the ringing changed into a hum. The hum is a problem. The hum is louder than things around me. It actually rises and falls with the noise level, in order to remain louder than things around me. This makes all noise unbearable. Television is the worst. Wrestling is enough to put me over the top. I loathe wrestling. My husband does not.
I don't tell him he's driving me crazy with the noise. It's not his fault and he can't fix it. Why should he suffer too?
Here's the kicker about the humming. Sharp noises cause vertigo. Last Sunday my husband clapped a mosquito. Right there in the livingroom. "SMACK" and the world began to spin.
So what's it like now: Minnear's Syndrome
I'll have to find the link to Minnear's Syndrome. I'm probably not even spelling it right. Basicaly it is the sudden onset of overwhelming dizziness which causes nausea and a nifty host of other side effects. I've had it twice. The fist time it started from the turn of my head. It lasted about four hours.
This past Sunday, I have no idea what set it off and it stayed mild but consistent most of the day.
My biggest concern: What happens if I'm driving when this coms on? It would be exactly equal to driving and shooting tequila.
Medical notes: Sinus "drying" meds make the condition worse and actually cause the humming.
Caffiene exacerbates the issue. These are the things I know about this so far.
Another 3-4 years and some research and I should be able to appropriately self-diagnose a cure.
I'm crazy like that.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Wow! That's just hard on the eyes, isn't it? But I LOVE my Lava Lamps.
Ok, wrong background again. I'll keep working on it.
Linny, remember saying people don't blog on the weekends? I took Sunday off (that's a story to fill you in on later) and I got 58 e-mails. Egad you kids have been busy!
Looks like I missed out on Cowboy's and Indians again. An indian with vertigo isn't an indian! It's a captive. I didn't have a chance. LOL
Monday hugs to all - even across oceans. Hope today is a good one.
Christa and Tomeh, I should ask you that since you have 7hrs on us. Hey, is it a good day yet?
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Friday, October 07, 2005
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Did you ever have "our song" with a past love - or even a current one?
High School Love - Our Song was Phil Collins "One More Night"
Post high school love - Meatloaf's "Anything for Love", Bryan Adams "Please Forgive Me" and at the end, Harry Nillson's "I Can't Live (if living is without you).
My husband and I don't really have a song, but we've joked that if we do it's Charles Manson's "Garbage Dump". That's not nearly as sad as it sounds. LOL
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Not family love. Not pet love.
This all started because of a preview for the movie Elizabethtown.
The line that caught me was "Rembember when you could spend all night on the phone just listening to each other breathe?"
I wonder why we lose that? I wonder if we can get that back?
I wonder if it never should have been lost at all.
I have much to say on the matter and intend to collect my thoughts before posting.
In the meantime, I thought maybe I'd throw it out to the wind and see what whisperings came back.
Monday, October 03, 2005
**I woke this morning from a dream. It was a good dream. That will sound odd as I go on.
I dreamt that I was moving into a smaller place. Throwing out all the clutter and only filling the space with necessity. I was leaving so much behind to do it. It was sad and cleansing at the same time.
I was very uncomfortable about it when I awoke.
**I have a recurring dream. It is in third person. I see myself from the back. I am standing at the edge of a lake. The wind is lightly blowing the tall grass around me. My long hair and long skirt are blowing as well.
A man passes behind me. He glances my way and stops. He recognizes me even from behind and even though we've not seen each other in many years.
He walks up slowly and puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turn slowly to face him. He looks for a moment and his eyes fill with tears of joy. He says "I knew it was you."
There is a long pause. I slowly reach up and stroke his cheek with my hand. My eyes brim with tears as well.
And as the first tear falls down my cheek, I say "No. No it's not." I turn and walk away, leaving him in the past forever.
(I am completely aware of the cause of this dream because I know the very first time I had it and what it means.)
**The first dream I can remember having, I had when I was 2 years old. The dream involved me being in a dangerous situation and someone saving me at the last moment. I've told my mother about that dream and she told me the person I remember was the boy next door. He was 20 then. She said he adored me. Apparently, I adored him as well. His name was Michael. Wouldn't it be interesting if I could speak to him now?
Regardless, this theme returns over and over. It has all of my life. At times they repeat so often that I begin to believe they are a memory instead of a dream.
Odd though. I don't recall ever being in a perilous situation or being saved from one.
Something about someone coming to my rescue seems to be comforting to me. It's probably horribly Freudian.
Insomnia comes when the longing in my soul cannot be quieted. It comes when I cannot locate, in my mind, that savior.
Hear me calling.
Come catch me, I think I'm falling.
I know I'm running out of time.
Wide eyed - Full of wonder
I can't hold out much longer.
Come save me
from this heart of mine.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Here's my last word on the subject until tonight: