![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraIn the first dream, I had a daughter, a little girl, maybe four years old.
And the little girl informed me she wanted to live with her father—who was Ben.
I was furious.
Fine, fine, live with Ben! I thought. I don’t care. I’ll never see you again, and that will be just fine with me!
But first, I was gonna have a word with Ben. Whom I marched up to and confronted: You have systematically connived to alienate the affections of my child! How dare you, motherfucker?? No, no, don’t look over there—because he was doing that shifty thing with his eyes—look at me when I’m talking to you—
And reluctantly, he raised his eyes to mine—
And I could see he was afraid of me!
###
In the second dream, I was out adventuring with a female friend, and we came across this… ruin? something. There was no way around it, and only two ways through it—one was by climbing up this impossible height and the other was by somehow circumnavigating this moat…
My friend just scampered up over the impossible height, easy-peasy, but I knew I’d never be able to scale it—I am deathly afraid of impossible heights.
So I just sighed, grit my teeth, and girded my loins for a plunge into the icy water.
###
So, back from California.
For the most part, I had a fabulous trip though aspects of it were—shall we say—challenging.
Even through the challenging parts, though, I felt as though I was surrounded by love, by people who supported me unambivalently, who cheered me on, who buoyed me up.
Amazing how quickly that changed the minute I finally hit the Poughkeepsie train station last night:
It was 11 o’clock, and there wasn’t a single cab. I mean like none.
There are usually three or four lined up.
The Poughkeepsie train station is not a place you want to be alone at night.
A couple of cops were walking their beat, and I ran up to them, dragging my incongruously pink suitcase—pink!—and asked them, “What happened to the taxis?”
They looked at me as though I was communicating in Venusian. “Taxis? Well. They come right there.”
“Yes, but there aren’t any! How am I supposed to get home?”
The male cop shrugged. The female cop said, “Well. They’re supposed to be there.”
And then they moved on.
And I thought, You fucking assholes! I am giving you the opportunity to preemptively prevent a crime! The mugging of a defenseless old lady!
But they didn’t give a shit.
Like Jack Nicholson sez: It’s Chinatown.
In the end, I desperately texted Neighbor Ed whom I know occasionally reads late into the night because my bedroom window looks across to his house, and I play Rear Window.
He was still awake and happy to pick me up.
But, still.
I couldn’t find a better actualization of the metaphor if I tried! The difference between Life Here and Life There.
There, there are people who actually cherish me.
Here, there is the Poughkeepsie train station.
And the little girl informed me she wanted to live with her father—who was Ben.
I was furious.
Fine, fine, live with Ben! I thought. I don’t care. I’ll never see you again, and that will be just fine with me!
But first, I was gonna have a word with Ben. Whom I marched up to and confronted: You have systematically connived to alienate the affections of my child! How dare you, motherfucker?? No, no, don’t look over there—because he was doing that shifty thing with his eyes—look at me when I’m talking to you—
And reluctantly, he raised his eyes to mine—
And I could see he was afraid of me!
###
In the second dream, I was out adventuring with a female friend, and we came across this… ruin? something. There was no way around it, and only two ways through it—one was by climbing up this impossible height and the other was by somehow circumnavigating this moat…
My friend just scampered up over the impossible height, easy-peasy, but I knew I’d never be able to scale it—I am deathly afraid of impossible heights.
So I just sighed, grit my teeth, and girded my loins for a plunge into the icy water.
###
So, back from California.
For the most part, I had a fabulous trip though aspects of it were—shall we say—challenging.
Even through the challenging parts, though, I felt as though I was surrounded by love, by people who supported me unambivalently, who cheered me on, who buoyed me up.
Amazing how quickly that changed the minute I finally hit the Poughkeepsie train station last night:
It was 11 o’clock, and there wasn’t a single cab. I mean like none.
There are usually three or four lined up.
The Poughkeepsie train station is not a place you want to be alone at night.
A couple of cops were walking their beat, and I ran up to them, dragging my incongruously pink suitcase—pink!—and asked them, “What happened to the taxis?”
They looked at me as though I was communicating in Venusian. “Taxis? Well. They come right there.”
“Yes, but there aren’t any! How am I supposed to get home?”
The male cop shrugged. The female cop said, “Well. They’re supposed to be there.”
And then they moved on.
And I thought, You fucking assholes! I am giving you the opportunity to preemptively prevent a crime! The mugging of a defenseless old lady!
But they didn’t give a shit.
Like Jack Nicholson sez: It’s Chinatown.
In the end, I desperately texted Neighbor Ed whom I know occasionally reads late into the night because my bedroom window looks across to his house, and I play Rear Window.
He was still awake and happy to pick me up.
But, still.
I couldn’t find a better actualization of the metaphor if I tried! The difference between Life Here and Life There.
There, there are people who actually cherish me.
Here, there is the Poughkeepsie train station.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 05:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 05:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 12:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 05:33 pm (UTC)