Saturday, January 29, 2005
I will feel nothing when I die
Nothing stretched all around me
And all through me
Nothing is hard to imagine
While I am alive,
I want to avoid nothing.
Anyway, so then I was thinking. Well this creature just wants to live. And it’s so gangly and clumsy. I felt sorry for it. Poor thing. So later I went upstairs and was talking with my roommate, and I asked him what he would do. I mean, do you kill it because it’s a spider and will reproduce prolifically, or have pity and let it live because it only wants to live and its so clumsy and ugly and pathetic?
Well I was leaning towards let it live and we were debating the pros and cons, when he told me the kicker: daddy long legs are blind!!!!
So I couldn’t. I couldn’t kill it. I told him if he wanted it dead he would have to kill it himself. And he couldn’t do it either. So the daddy long legs lived.
And then, I saw a spider today. It fell out of my work hat and I couldn’t kill it.
I hate spiders.
You and I were in a light white room
It had a grand open window
With sheer billowing curtains
And a big white claw foot bathtub
The wind was blowing the curtains
But we felt no breeze
The sunlight poured in through the window
Reflecting on my red-gold hair while
I lay sprawled on the floor
You in the sheer curtained shower
And me on the floor
You - drenched in water,
Me - drenched with sunlight
Both of us naked
I only remember the end
I was in an apartment and he had just left
The apartment was empty except for a fridge and on top of the fridge, an amplifier. There were no visible speakers but the music was loud and all the lights were on. So I turned off the lights and turned down the stereo, then shut off the amp. I left the keys on the table by the sliding glass door and locked the door behind me because I wasn’t planning on coming back.
The apartment was familiar
I have been in similar apartments in past dreams
It had two rooms.
Two large rooms about twice as long as wide.
In the first room with the entry door was the kitchen and a dining room with a sliding glass door at the opposite end. The kitchen had cheap 1970's dark wood cupboards and ugly linoleum. The table that my grandfather gave me (it is round and art deco style) sat in front of the sliding door and had newspapers and mail piled on it.
The other room, to the right, had dirty, yellowed walls (or maybe it was just the lighting), and an ugly light brown dirty old carpet.
The only light other than the harsh overheads came from the sliding glass door. It was cloudy outside, so the light that leaked in was gloomy.
That is what I remember of this dream
I just had a flashback of a dream
Being in a hotel room with my cat
I’m not sure
It was just a flash
There was no roof on the hotel
No ceiling over my head
Only sky above,
And a dirty kitty litter box
My grandmother was so important to me. She had an immense influence on the person I am. She introduced me to classical music, and ballet, she gave me my first music lessons on my great grandmother's piano when I was a small child. She taught me how to sew and how to make applesauce, and she instilled in me a love and appreciation of beauty.
Almost exactly one year ago she was in
I wrote her a letter and included this memory (archived). I hadn’t written her a letter in years; we mostly just kept in contact through the phone lines while she was out of town. I had this eerie feeling, like something would happen. Time is running out.
So I mailed her this letter, and 2 weeks later a package arrived for me in the mail. It was some abalone earrings (my birthday gift) and a letter from my grandmother in which she said how happy she was to get the letter from me and she loved reading about my memory of staying at her house. She told me that I am a wonderful writer and that she is so proud of me.
Then, when she came home, she started talking about pain in her abdomen.
She went to doctors and they could find nothing wrong with her so they gave her painkillers. When the painkillers didn’t take away her pain they gave her more. And then they gave her more tests and more painkillers.
In April, I read about a rhododendron garden in
It hurts a lot to write this.
I miss my grandma.
Then, three weeks later, my mother was in the hospital having her back surgery and my grandma was there of course. We went into the bathroom alone together and she told me that her pain was getting worse and the doctors want to do an endoscopy, and had scheduled for the next week. I had no idea what would happen. I was thinking everything would be ok because my grandmother has always been so healthy.
The day came and she had her endoscopy.
My mother called me that night to tell me that my grandmother was dying.
I got my car from my moms house, had it insured, and commenced to drive out to the hospital every day to visit my grandmother. They kept her there for a week due to complications from the endoscopy. I will never forget about when my mother climbed onto the bed with her and they held each other and reminisced about grandmother's life. My mom told her that she would see my great uncle Ken and my great grandpa and great grandma and all of the people that she loved who had gone before.
In seven days, my grandmother got to go home. I started visiting twice weekly instead of daily because it was so far to my grandmas house (about 70 miles one way). The first week when I pulled up and came in the house, my grandfather was crying. The second week, my grandmother was lying on the couch and we just talked about her life. The third week she was asleep in the bedroom and I didn’t want to wake her up so I did not get to see her. The fourth week, she was also in bed and my aunt said that I do not want to see her because she is so thin she does not look like grandma anymore. She’d had to take off her rings because they were sliding off her fingers. She had lost so much weight. I had that dream two nights later, you know, the one about the gymnasium funeral where my grandmother disappears around the side of the house (archived). The next day my mother called me to say that she was gone.
Four days later was her funeral. We had the option of looking in the casket but I decided not to because I didn’t want to see her dead. I wanted to remember her as so vibrant, and alive, as she was in all of our happy moments together.
I remember when I was young and I would stay at her house, I would wake up in the morning to the smell of bacon or sausage and grandmas blueberry pancakes. She made the best pancakes. It was served with warm applesauce and lots of love. Then I would go with grandpa to ride on the tractor and feed the cows.
One last thing
I should tell you what she had.
She was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer, and by the time they found it, it had spread to her liver and stomach. The weird thing is, her brother died exactly 2 years and one week before she did of the exact same thing.
She was a wonderful person.
So that’s the story of what happened to my grandmother.