While You Were Sleeping
(I was not.)
It's almost 1am. Hot. My skin is sticky in a non-sexy way. The thought of sex makes me feel like I'm going to suffocate. What is wrong with me? Isn't hot humid air supposed to get us all sexed up and ready for fun in the sack? I can't stand the feeling of hot sticky skin on mine. Warm skin is like an airless blanket. When I sleep I prefer to be somewhat cold. Does this mean I'm an awful bloodless woman? I like windows open, cold air flowing in, my skin brushed with sleet.
This was day four in the triple digits. We were all cranky and ready to implode. Others explode, I implode. Suddenly I'm remembering dangerous forays to the park across the street from Grace Cathedral in San Francisco in the middle of the AM, when the night crawlers are out. I would go to be alone. To think. To get air. I wish I could do that right now. San Francisco may have the very most ideal temperature of all cities for me. Which wouldn't be all that strange since I was born there. In a hospital that no longer exists.
I wonder who's awake and who's asleep, dreaming of hunky firemen? Another hemisphere is opening their eyes now. There are so many people on this planet already I'm wondering where we'll keep all the new ones getting born? I can feel everyone crowding right now. Yes, I know, I'm crazy. I have a medical file to prove it.
It's too hot to sleep. Sometimes when I can't sleep I worry that I will never sleep again. Not sleeping is one of my greatest fears. It's part of why I stay awake drinking into the wee hours. If I prolong the effort I will be so tired and full of soporific alcohol that I will not be able to help myself but to sleep. I will crash down into unconsciousness like I have a concussion.
Cold showers in the heat are awesome. I might have to take one in a little while. Normally I'm not all that fond of cold wet water on my skin. Amanda suggested it a couple of posts ago and I tried it and DAMN! Feels so good.
I am a winter flower. Calling myself a flower is my personal little joke. I'm so large that describing myself as anything delicate is ridiculous. No, I'm not dissing myself. Just being honest. If you could see my soul I think you'd see that no matter what shell I wear my spirit is robed in gossamer fabric and my love is complete. Love for this damned planet, its damned people, and all the damned animals on it.
Rarely has a body and a spirit been so mismatched. I have constantly blamed it on breaking my hip since that's when I metamorphosed from a stout but normal sized person to a very large person. The past two weeks my hip has been hurting me again. It's an easy excuse. It never really leaves me. I long to stretch my legs in a jog. To make my body burn with the effort of motion- but the consequent pain in my hip keeps me still. I'm not allowed to jog. Doctor's orders. Ever again. I long to take off in lengthy sinuous strides. Put some miles between myself and the present.
But that's all just excuse. It's harder to pretend at this time in the morning.
I don't like being up right now. In the quiet of night I can hear everything. I can hear you breathing right now. You think I can't, you think I'm speaking metaphorically, or poetically.
Have you read my poetry?
Then erase such thoughts from your brain. I hear you right now. I am almost a guest in your dreams. That's how loud your spirit exhales.
Thunder is here. I've seen the lightening. Heard the rumbling. I thought at first it was some kind of late night mud monster truck demolition derby. We have things like that around here. But it lit up the sky and made me think of the apocalypse. The one I don't believe in.
I think you're dreaming of Tom Selleck right now and you don't want anyone to know it.
Lightening again.
There was a time when I felt completely connected with the forces that be. When I could close my eyes and almost know what was coming. I could feel it out there. Not like a moving Ouija board but like opaque messages from the stars. Years ago a quiet fell down on me and clouded my vision, my hearing.
I was listening to music but now I'm listening to the thunder and lightening. There's no rain. Yet.
Ah. Here it is. I sat outside to watch the sky light up and thunder. I actually saw lightning. My thought was "Oh god, why didn't I take out life insurance on myself so that if it takes me Philip and Max can keep on going?"
I'm drinking the very last drops of my Santa Rosa plum liqueur, made three years ago. It is so rich and full of plum flavor. Incredible!
Am I ready for bed?
I don't know. I want to know what's coming. I want to know, before I go to sleep if we will lose everything or find a way to keep it. Can someone please tell me that? I love my life here in this house. I love the raised beds I've built, the roses I've planted, my funky cool kitchen, my chickens, my kittens, my dog, my family, my town, my part time job, my marriage, and I really like breathing.
Can I please stay here forever? Can I please not lose anything else for a long time? Can I please keep us from going under? I'm so tired of worry. I'm so tired of anxiety. I'm so tired of depression and loss. I'm tired of my own devices, tired of heat, tired of hanging by a thread at the neck.
I used to cast runes. I used to believe. I used to feel it. The churning of the earth and the answers hidden in the rubble.
I know, you'd like to know if I'm certifiable. Yes, and no.
Remember, I can hear you. Right now.
The wonderful thing is this cooler weather the thunder brings. Brushes of air not brought to us by the furnaces of hell. I'm going to sleep. I'm going to dream. I wonder if you'll be able to hear me too?
Listen.
Like a mockingbird I will sound an awfully lot like you. Like a reflection. Like a mirror turned light in the dark.
Listen.
Is your sky in thunder too?
Sleep.
This was day four in the triple digits. We were all cranky and ready to implode. Others explode, I implode. Suddenly I'm remembering dangerous forays to the park across the street from Grace Cathedral in San Francisco in the middle of the AM, when the night crawlers are out. I would go to be alone. To think. To get air. I wish I could do that right now. San Francisco may have the very most ideal temperature of all cities for me. Which wouldn't be all that strange since I was born there. In a hospital that no longer exists.
I wonder who's awake and who's asleep, dreaming of hunky firemen? Another hemisphere is opening their eyes now. There are so many people on this planet already I'm wondering where we'll keep all the new ones getting born? I can feel everyone crowding right now. Yes, I know, I'm crazy. I have a medical file to prove it.
It's too hot to sleep. Sometimes when I can't sleep I worry that I will never sleep again. Not sleeping is one of my greatest fears. It's part of why I stay awake drinking into the wee hours. If I prolong the effort I will be so tired and full of soporific alcohol that I will not be able to help myself but to sleep. I will crash down into unconsciousness like I have a concussion.
Cold showers in the heat are awesome. I might have to take one in a little while. Normally I'm not all that fond of cold wet water on my skin. Amanda suggested it a couple of posts ago and I tried it and DAMN! Feels so good.
I am a winter flower. Calling myself a flower is my personal little joke. I'm so large that describing myself as anything delicate is ridiculous. No, I'm not dissing myself. Just being honest. If you could see my soul I think you'd see that no matter what shell I wear my spirit is robed in gossamer fabric and my love is complete. Love for this damned planet, its damned people, and all the damned animals on it.
Rarely has a body and a spirit been so mismatched. I have constantly blamed it on breaking my hip since that's when I metamorphosed from a stout but normal sized person to a very large person. The past two weeks my hip has been hurting me again. It's an easy excuse. It never really leaves me. I long to stretch my legs in a jog. To make my body burn with the effort of motion- but the consequent pain in my hip keeps me still. I'm not allowed to jog. Doctor's orders. Ever again. I long to take off in lengthy sinuous strides. Put some miles between myself and the present.
But that's all just excuse. It's harder to pretend at this time in the morning.
I don't like being up right now. In the quiet of night I can hear everything. I can hear you breathing right now. You think I can't, you think I'm speaking metaphorically, or poetically.
Have you read my poetry?
Then erase such thoughts from your brain. I hear you right now. I am almost a guest in your dreams. That's how loud your spirit exhales.
Thunder is here. I've seen the lightening. Heard the rumbling. I thought at first it was some kind of late night mud monster truck demolition derby. We have things like that around here. But it lit up the sky and made me think of the apocalypse. The one I don't believe in.
I think you're dreaming of Tom Selleck right now and you don't want anyone to know it.
Lightening again.
There was a time when I felt completely connected with the forces that be. When I could close my eyes and almost know what was coming. I could feel it out there. Not like a moving Ouija board but like opaque messages from the stars. Years ago a quiet fell down on me and clouded my vision, my hearing.
I was listening to music but now I'm listening to the thunder and lightening. There's no rain. Yet.
Ah. Here it is. I sat outside to watch the sky light up and thunder. I actually saw lightning. My thought was "Oh god, why didn't I take out life insurance on myself so that if it takes me Philip and Max can keep on going?"
I'm drinking the very last drops of my Santa Rosa plum liqueur, made three years ago. It is so rich and full of plum flavor. Incredible!
Am I ready for bed?
I don't know. I want to know what's coming. I want to know, before I go to sleep if we will lose everything or find a way to keep it. Can someone please tell me that? I love my life here in this house. I love the raised beds I've built, the roses I've planted, my funky cool kitchen, my chickens, my kittens, my dog, my family, my town, my part time job, my marriage, and I really like breathing.
Can I please stay here forever? Can I please not lose anything else for a long time? Can I please keep us from going under? I'm so tired of worry. I'm so tired of anxiety. I'm so tired of depression and loss. I'm tired of my own devices, tired of heat, tired of hanging by a thread at the neck.
I used to cast runes. I used to believe. I used to feel it. The churning of the earth and the answers hidden in the rubble.
I know, you'd like to know if I'm certifiable. Yes, and no.
Remember, I can hear you. Right now.
The wonderful thing is this cooler weather the thunder brings. Brushes of air not brought to us by the furnaces of hell. I'm going to sleep. I'm going to dream. I wonder if you'll be able to hear me too?
Listen.
Like a mockingbird I will sound an awfully lot like you. Like a reflection. Like a mirror turned light in the dark.
Listen.
Is your sky in thunder too?
Sleep.
