The Moon above the 309th day of this Pandemic. It's 309 days,...best I figure, since the NYC lockdown order. Speaking of comedy. I attempted to watch a parody of a 2020 year end roundup on Netflix.
No,...just no.
It's too soon by a decade to make fun of this past year. The fuck were they thinking? There was nothing funny at any point in this hellish experience. Murderous self-inflicted tragedies gross ironies vindictive irrational governmental behaviors.
However not much that was funny.
Speaking of dreams. I just had one. Many like this these days. As I've been messaged you're having them too. Here's my latest:
I'm a pallbearer,...great start. I'm with folks hauling a coffin about. Were wandering places I know,...this don't look good. The deceased is someone close. Perhaps closer than I'd want as we go to places from my life.
I morph as one does to an alcove in the deep of night. Cold rain sleet. I'm sitting homeless cold. Then walking. This place empty a deserted city. One of the sharp memories of my homeless year was being wet cold alone, and walking the nights.
All the while I'm composing.
Composing an opera. This while processing the streets with the dead, and while freezing in the rain. Memories the place where dreams come from. I don't remember notation, but in my dream state I did.
A mystery.
Years ago I helped to care give for an elder aunt that lived with dementia. All that she was had left. Those portions of her brain the held her soul had vanished. This is the cruelty of that condition.
However sometimes for moment minutes, and even parts of days she'd return to us. A mystery. If memories are not held in the brain,...then where? A mystery, and a wonderful one.
Another day. Face it with courage humor, and kindness.
No comments:
Post a Comment