Happenings

Michael and I sit across from one another in our bedroom. He taps on his keyboard. I tap on mine. He faces south. I face north. The curtains are open. Light spills in from the gray outside. It's cold in here. I sniff chilled snot back into my nostrils. March 3rd. The sun opens the sky up for five seconds. It settles into spouting trees and rooftops across the street. It melts away. My abdomen aches a bit from the grief residue that fills our house. Two parents gone in 9 days. His parents. And it wasn't because they loved each other. They divorced 40 years ago and lived in separate states. Coincidence?

“Synchronicity is an ever present reality for those who have eyes to see.”

— Carl Jung

Recent Dreams Remembered

1) Beckett is a year older. Her hair is short and curly. I notice her from behind and run to pick her up for a hug. When she turns to me she has sores all over her body. I'm horrified. 

2) I'm biking on a highway that appears to be a patterned illustration. Every few feet the pattern changes to something else. I'm in Seattle looking for a job doing set design. I'm terrified of being poor and count the change in my pockets. I keep coming across my friend Brian. Sometimes he's alive and other times he's dead and bloated. 

3) Two co-workers and a French version of my boss are sitting in the pumping room. The room is bigger with pillows and candles on the floor. One of my co-workers flirts with my boss. The other sits quietly, staring at the wall. I go over creative briefs but no one is listening. I'm slightly jealous of the flirting coworker and think about whether or not he would respond to my flirtations as well. For a second, I feel old and powerless, but quickly talk myself out of feeling this way. I change the tone of my talking into a more sultry one and watch as my boss's ears perk right up.