Category Archives: dreams

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Will you dance?

For the Daily Prompt: filthy.

I am with my EX. He has that wicked trickster expression, which can mean fun or trouble or both.

“Let’s go.” he says, “Dancing. I have something new to show you.”

I go, warily, choosing boots rather than high heels. I love to dance, but I know that expression. There is a twist here. He is messing with me and I need to be careful.

He leads me into a park. We go through various sections and into a part with a rectangular green. The rectangle is broken by a hole in the corner, shaped like a billiard pocket. It is not very big and about 15 feet deep.

“Wait,” he says and goes down the steep muddy slope covered with leaves… and right into the mud covered wall, completely in. The earth struggles and then he pulls back out, covered with dirt and filth, frankly. It stinks. He taps a grayish structure beside him, and it lights up with soft light and starts playing a Charleston. It also moves a little, parts moving against each other, more awkward blobs than humanoid. And around me, three other statues also light up and move.

And my EX is climbing back up the muddy wall towards me and sinking in up to his waist with each step. He will be at the top soon. The Charleston is a cheap tinny version.

I am trying to decide: Will I dance?

I wake up.

Will you dance?

I took the photograph in 2014. My daughter was on the Killer Whale Mountain Bike Team. This is her coach, annoyed because he had to drop out of the race. He was riding with a belt chain, but the mud was so deep that it packed the chain and he couldn’t ride. My daughter finished the race but said that there were many sections that they just picked up their bikes and tried to run through thick sticky mud six or more inches deep.

 

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Emergency preparedness

In Venezuela now
some people get water once a week
and sicken from it

First, withdrawal
When we have our eathquake
Tsumani and roads and bridges are gone

If one in three adults in Utah
Got an opioid prescription in 2014
What are the numbers here?
Opioids
Alcohol
Benzos
Caffeine
After the first wave of death
and grief, withdrawal begins
Not just addictive drugs
from insulin
from blood pressure meds
anticoagulants
seizure medicine
chemo ground to a halt
I read that alcohol is best to trade in disaster
and chaos and loss
Guarded by guns in small gangs
We are told to store water
Where?
If the house falls down
and I can get out, where would I put water?
A bunker in the ground?
I stock straws for water
I wish I could buy 9000
for my town
I stock books for when the computers
go silent
I stock songs in my head
memorized all
I fight for all my patients
Who would I not fight for?
Maybe it would be better to die
or be captured early
I stock love not guns.

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2016/05/26/world/americas/desperate-times-in-venezuela/s/27VENEZUELA-SS-slide-3ZIT.html?_r=0

http://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2016/may/26/utah-mormons-prescription-painkiller-addiction

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/07/20/the-really-big-one

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Dream: home surgery

Yesterday I ask a friend to drive me to pick up my son, on his way home from college for spring break, an hour to a nearby pick up point and back. I can’t walk without limping horribly: apparently the recent stress in clinic has made my muscles mad.

F. drives. He has just finished reading Reinventing Collapse: The Soviet Experience and American Prospects, by Dmitri Orlov. Mr. Orlov says that I, as a physician, should start moonlighting as a midwife for barter to have a back up plan for when the economy collapses.

I laugh. “Not very helpful where the median age is 55.”

“Not to mention people want to use their pathetic health insurance.”

Home and I go to sleep. Dream: I am at F.’s house. There are two other men, one of whom needs abdominal surgery. We argue for a long time but he has no money and finally I agree to do surgery with F. assisting. The other man is to help hold the young man down. We do not, of course have anesthesia. I go over what I am going to do, force them to pay attention, discuss sterile technique, boil everything. Not ideal….

We don’t have a cautery or suction either. But there is almost no bleeding and the two things that need to be removed come out easily, I am very very  gentle, so I don’t cause other things to bleed. Never mess with the spleen.

Now I need to close the abdomen and I don’t have absorbablesutures. I am going to do a figure 8 from the surface, in skin, out the abdominal fat, across into the fat, down through the fascia, crossing very delicately up into the fascia on the other side, out the fat, in the fat on the other side and out the skin. Then slowly pull it tight, tight, and tie it off. It’s thick nylon. Nonabsorbable. Usually you would take the nylon out in 7-10 days but I am wondering how long I would need it for the fascia….I thought that would take 6 weeks to heal. I am worrying.

But now F. and the other man are not holding my patient, they are backing off and congratulating each other. My patient gets up off the table. “Lie back down!” I say, “Your guts could fall out the opening! We haven’t closed! F!” Surprisingly his guts are not falling out, but it’s because I have done such a beautiful low abdominal incision, bikini style. “Get back on the table or I will make you go to the hospital to have it closed!”

He reluctantly gets back on the table. F. and the other guy are still being morons but are calming down….

….I wake up.

 

The photo is in my yard during sunrise last summer: spring forward today….

music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEi_4Cyx4Uw

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at the end of the massage

at the end of the massage
I was dreamy and he put a warm towel over me
and said that I was not to get up until
my body had absorbed all of the heat from the towel
and he left the room

and I thought dreamily that it was so nice
to have my armor removed and muscles unlocked
and to just be assigned to let warmth seep in to me
until I held it all

and I thought dreamily that if all of the archetypes
are in each of us and I am learning to love all of mine
and even and especially the most horrific ones the ones
we all want to reject, not mine, the monsters, oh, poor monsters
that howl in the wilderness that howl in the dark that howl
to be loved

and I thought dreamily that if I love all of the archetypes
inside me then they aren’t a group that is around a table
in my mind, when they are all loved they come together and I
am one and everything is one

and I thought dreamily that how surprising that I felt one
quite suddenly and with no warning and with warming and oh
Beloved all connected

and I thought dreamily that was I really feeling healed as if
all of the splits and breaks and damaged are healed just by
love and I can add to the love in the world loving the inside
terrible parts of myself oh and the monsters long to be loved so
their weeping is terrible

and I thought dreamily blessings monsters blessings Beloved and
love to all and I lay there until I had absorbed all of the warmth
from the towel

and I got up slowly

and returned to the world

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Through storm and fear

This is for photrablogger’s Mundane Monday #34.

I was downtown in the early morning for coffee and a walk. I walked out to Port Hudson. The wind was blowing very hard and the rigging was singing that eerie whistle wail. There are giant cleats out as both seats and advertising. I put one of my earrings on the cleat and took the picture. The earrings were my mother’s. After she died I looked at her jewelry. She loved little boxes and I was trying to understand the organization of the earrings. It was not by value, since plastic and gold were all mixed together. She was an artist and organized the earrings by color. These little plastic eiffel towers were in the box with red and pink earrings of all sorts. They are probably at least 30 years old. The tower looks so small against the black cleat with the rainwater. I hope that we can all care for each other through storms and fear.

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Full lunar eclipse

Long long ago, when the universe was forming, the Moon fell in love with the Sun.

The Moon was afraid that the Sun wouldn’t see her, because the Sun was so bright. Slowly she pulled herself together. After careful thought, she chose to orbit the Earth.

Now it is another full lunar eclipse. Her face reflects the Sun’s glory back to him. She slides behind the Earth in a three hour version of her usual cycle, from full to only her own light back to full.

“Where are you, Moon?” bellows the Sun. He hates these quick disappearances. He yells and bellows and tantrums. But the Moon knows that he will forget quickly and that he has not bothered to learn and predict her cycles. He doesn’t like to be reminded of loss and endings and death.

The Sun likes it best when he has her full glory, face reflected back to him. He doesn’t see her light. Each month she moves from reflecting his light towards her quiet time when it is only her light that is visible from Earth. She needs this time to remember that she has her own light, even if it is a shadow compared with the sun.

“You should orbit me!” says the Sun, but the Moon knows that if she orbited him she would be burned and barren and dead, no rest and no light of her own. One night a month the Moon remembers who she is and is alone. She lets her quiet darkness shine. The Earth whispers, “Why do you love the Sun so? Don’t cry, Sister.” The Earth’s salt water tides move like tears.

Sometimes the Moon longs for ending, but she remembers: all love, returned or not, is longing and praise for the Beloved. Maybe she will not be loved or seen as she longs to be in this life, but she too will return to the Beloved and be One. And after her time in the dark she slowly returns to reflecting the Sun.

And the Sun loves her in his way. He loves to watch his reflection grow on her face each month, preens in it, until she is full. He is more irritable in the second half, as she turns her face away again. She wishes that he would look past his own light and see her.

Now the little eclipse is ending and she is rapidly becoming full again. The Sun is cheering up.

“It’s silly of you to hide your face.” says the Sun, fondly.

The moon does not smile. The Sun sees his own smile reflected in her face.

 

I took the photo in 2009 at Joshua Tree.

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Under covers

U is for under covers in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

Under covers I had this dream:

I am in a large space, no walls. No grass or sky or sun either. There are boxes everywhere.

A male voice is telling me to get in a box.

“Which one?” I say.

“You may pick.” says the voice.

I look at the boxes. They are all next to each other, all different shapes. Square, octagonal, pentagon. They are made of wood and carved or inlaid. There are many beautiful designs, all different. I step from box to box.

“They are too small.” I say.

“If you sit down and tilt your head to the side, you fit.”

“That isn’t comfortable.” I say, after trying to sit. “It’s too small.”

“Pick a box.” the voice insists.

No, I think. I won’t. They are too small.

“Why do I need to be in a box?” I ask.

I wake up.