The sky is heavy and disconsolate. My mood is adapting the template of my western window. Isadora is recovering from illness, while I am proliferate with minutiae. Technically I should be in therapy but I have a stomach virus and thus am reluctant to travel. Which is just as well because I am not in the mood to talk. I just want to be alone with my unfinished thoughts. This morning Sam woke me up with a flurry of kisses. Apparently we both had dreams that the other had left and for equally stupid reasons. How I love that man!
Speaking of dreams I had one recently that is representative of a chronic theme. I was waiting at the bus stop with a group of strangers. The wait was a long one, 31 minutes, but there was no alternative because I didn’t know the way to my destination. As I was waiting I noticed an older man out of the corner of my eye. He was wearing sunglasses but I could tell from his body language that he was agitated. He began pacing and muttering under his breath. I couldn’t make out his words but their nature reflected a growing hostility. He took out a knife and I sank deeper into the glass cubicle, frightened for my life and the well-being of the faceless strangers that barricaded me unaware. I saw a tram barreling toward the station. This was a rural area so there were no tracks. Everything went black, I felt myself being jostled by the crowd. When I regained my vision I was inside of the tram tied to a seat but the cabin was empty save for a female driver, the old man, and another person. Although the other person was a prominent and active character I cannot remember anything about them including their gender. The female driver was manic. She was either on drugs or in the throws of a full blown psychotic episode.
The road ahead was serpentine. The hills would have been impossible for a vehicle to traverse. The tram didn’t stop for lights, for signs, for traffic, for pedestrians and nothing opposed or slowed its trajectory. I sensed my stop was approaching and I begged them to let me off but they kept going. I remember watching helplessly as miles and hours passed. I was growing increasingly panicked. I had no money, no cell phone, no recollection of addresses or phone numbers. I couldn’t remember the way back, the tram had taken so many inexplicable turns and detours. I couldn’t even remember the name of the city I wished to return to. I knew only that I desperately wanted to be with my family but that I had no way of reaching them.
In other dreams I sometimes manage to get a hold of Sam but he never seems concerned and never provides me with the information or the means to return. In still other incarnations of the dream I am traveling with Sam. I arrive at a logical destination, usually at the home of one of my parents, and then Sam leaves. I have no money to return home and no identification. I end up trapped. In the dreams where I am confined to my mother’s house it is less scary but the sadness is just as intense. At my father’s house I have to contend with abuse as he tries to reenact our childhood roles. I feel an overwhelming sense of betrayal. Often my father appears reformed when in Sam’s presence but degrades in his absence. Sometimes I do not even recognize the man as my father until after Sam leaves. Quite obviously I don’t feel in control of my life. Every now and then I make a breakthrough, I conquer the dragon, but always there are more dragons and bigger dragons with which I must contend. I worry that I might choose the wrong path or the wrong means. I worry that I might run out of time, that my loved ones will give up while I am in the process and I’ll end up trapped in a situation too horrible to contemplate. I daresay I am also a little afraid of myself.