The Dating Game: I Wake Up

Friday, September 29th, 2006 | Dreams, The Dating Game

The dream began at a garden party. Richard was excited about his new book coming out, the garden was beautiful, shaded and lush, a nice breeze. On the drive home, I pulled over and a woman tried to get in and steal my wallet. I wrestled with her wordlessly, pushing her out and locking the doors, one at a time. I recognized her, but couldn’t remember if we knew each other… wasn’t she a performer of some sort? Alone in the car, I realized suddenly, again, that Manny hadn’t died, that his death had been staged. I scrambled to find my Palm Pilot to call Frank, the executor of Manny’s estate, and ask again if I could see him. Evidently I’d been trying unsuccessfully to see him for years. At this point I suppose I started to wake, and a taste of how dementia is going to be settled on me. I was very confused about whether or not Manny had actually died, not able to understand why he wouldn’t want to see me, why this elaborate hoax had been perpetrated. Then I remembered kissing his stone cold hard as stone body.

I’ve been crying the last half hour, unable to close my eyes tight enough to seal them from the darkness, which scares me. I’m alone, Manny won’t come back to take care of me, or protect me from the darkness. Outside there are robbers trying to get into the house, monsters under the bed. I’ll get things done, I’ll learn to be happy by myself, I’ll go to openings, I’ll take care of myself. Why don’t I go on a vacation–by myself?

I don’t want to. I don’t want to not have soft furry flesh pressed against mine when I wake up like this, a soft reassuring voice to let me know that I’m not alone, and alive. I won’t get used to this. I won’t I won’t I won’t.

It’s beautiful here now, so quiet at this time of morning. The heady scent of the last of the summer’s brugmansia florescence is wafting into my bedroom.

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