During my waking hours, I’ve been getting phone calls from private or unknown numbers and those calls feed into a dream series, as has Dan’s death.
I’ve had these recurring dreams about Dan. When you miss someone, that’s not unusual, but this is what’s been happening:
I dream Dan is alive and has been in hiding somewhere. Life got to be too much and he walked away. Somehow he faked his death. How doesn’t matter and I never ask.
Dan decides to get in touch. It’s Dan who’s been calling and he’s more than just a bit annoyed that I’ve been blocking the unidentified callers. How does he finally get through? I don’t know; it’s a dream, not a logical, daytime occurrence!
2017 sucked … and not well. Let’s forget the whole politics/Republican jackasses in Congress/racism/tax cut for the wealthy/Trump vs. women, immigrants, Constitution, etc., etc., but pro-Russia/ad nauseum disaster portions of the year.
Every year that passes, I feel like I lose more of you. This year I lost two major pieces of you, but in an odd way, I gained a piece, too.
First, what I lost: three of my rock gods.
My mom spanked a squirrel.
This memory re-emerged several days ago and then reasserted itself again this morning.
Mom takes a nice little handful of pills in the morning. Most mornings, one pill will miss her mouth. I tell her not to take them all at once, but ignoring me has become her favorite pastime. Whatever.
This morning, she used both hands to push the pills into her mouth and I laughed. So as not to seem rude, I told her about her past with squirrels.
Sometimes it seems like a minute; sometimes it seems like 100 years. I miss you as much as ever. I look back over the past ten years and wonder: how different would life be if you were still in it?
Mom would still have dementia, but probably not quite as far along as she is. The stress of your death accelerated the process. I probably would not be living with her yet, so more of my sanity would be intact. I would have more freedom to travel, even overnight.
I have battled depression all my life. For a while I feel I have a handle on it. Maybe even conquered the feeling of desolation. Wrong. Wrong-o. Even with Zoloft.