The Wedding – Epilogue

The End

I always think about the idea of nostalgia. It’s probably because I have a terrible memory for my childhood. Just foggy snapshots, hazy impressions, and lingering feelings. But the feelings are real, no matter how strange and alien they are. Nostalgia is the longing for a time, not a place. And while my memory is only of images, my dreams are more vivid. My dreams have always been vivid, like being entirely transported to another reality. I have woken still sobbing from some heartbreak, I have woken with cuts in ny palms from clenching my fists, and I have had to stop myself from reminding people of an incident that never happened. My dreams are like experiencing another me.

And this was like a dream. A dream that felt strange and real. A dream of people dressed up and swirling on the dance floor. A dream of flowers and flowing creeks and beautiful stone walls. A dream of a prince and a princess kissing outside a castle. And I am there, standing by a warm fire, looking into the faces of people from my past. And they are so familiar, and yet such strangers to me. Do people change so much while you are not looking? Am I drunk on the sweet bubbles in my glass?

The clock chimes it’s bells, and the dancers begin to fade away. Sleep doesn’t come, but I must already be asleep, this is a dream.

Even days later, my body still feels like it is floating. I am not sure if I truly saw those ghosts from my past. Those warm feelings, personified from my childhood. Those strangers of my adulthood.

I can’t tell what is reality, and what is dream, but I know that soon my alarm will go off, and life will be as it was.

Respite – Day 1

You’ll know you’ve fallen in love when you no longer want to sleep, because reality is finally better than your dreams…

I slept. I slept. I slept til afternoon. And I dreamt. One tiny Trazodone to help me sleep, one tiny doorway into the world of dreams. And in my dreams, my heart was breaking. A love I’ve clung onto, was falling in love with someone else. By mistake, I was late, or took a wrong turn, or some other random chance, and saw her climb out his window. And with a blush, and a sigh, I knew she was falling in love with him too…

I claw my way out of slumber, like demons climbing out of hell. It is light out and the digital clock on the nightstand taunts my unseeing eyes. I hear the sounds of cooking from somewhere downstairs, and the deep rumble of my displeased cat. I put my glasses on and am surprised to find its noon. I’d slept for 12 hrs straight. The cats both emerge from their hiding places, and follow me into the bathroom..

The day is cold, wintery, and with the leisure beholden a Saturday, we drive down into town for coffee. We drive past the other coffee shops til we reach the end, a special coffee shop. The coffee shop with a How-To juggling book on its shelf. The coffee shop that is a cross between casual and serious. (Casual cat t-shirts and flannel. Serious weigh each shot of esspresso for perfection in a cup.) The coffee shop that drew a penis in my cappuccino foam years ago for a laugh. Nothing like a Cockoccino to start your day..

I sometimes forget how much I like this perfect little dream town. Coffee shops where you can make your baristas blush. Bookstores where clerks know the exact location of the book you want. Theaters that show real movies, not just the Hollywood stuff. And the sea..

I bite into a yellow apple and can’t recall the last time I’ve just eaten an apple. Each bite, juicy and dreamy. I meet a cat with two odd back legs. Living a difficult life, but living it none the less. He pulls his back legs behind him as he crosses the store to greet us. No less life in him, no less drive, despite his handicap. An old man tells me a story about spliced apple trees and magical bites. A distant time, a mystery apple. “Happy bedding…” he says, as we depart.

We return home, only hrs later. My head is foggy and I still feel the pull of sleep. I ascend the stairs, and let slumber take me..


I often toot the horn of my prescription sleep aide, and in truth it has helped immensely. I have a journal I kept of my sleep pattern for 2 years. Filled with what time I went to bed, what time and how many times I woke up, and what I ate or drank prior to sleeping. In short, for two years, I got pretty shitty sleep. 

For years now I have had no problems sleeping thru the night, 8 hrs or more. But lately my sleep has been troubled. Either I can’t seem to get to sleep at all, or my sleep is plagued by intense dreams. Movie quality. Completely immersing. And completely random. And it would seem a good thing, like I’m atleast getting sleep. But I wake up so endrenched with the dream. I’ve woken up sobbing. I’ve woken up terrified. I’ve woken up completely believing I’ve done things I haven’t. My dreams are so emotionally exhausting, I wake feeling like I haven’t slept at all. I’ve also woken up with sore muscles from being so tense in my sleep. 

Point is: I woke up this morning, and for a moment couldn’t move because somehow I’d pulled a muscle down the middle of my back! And it hurts like a bitch…

Thanks from the dreamer

I sometimes think myself to be alone. Just spouting my words into the ether, to float along for a time unknown. But on occasion, I am reminded that I am not unseen. That You, in fact, are there, reading this now. That, though you may not choose to Like a post, or leave a Comment, that my words do not go unnoticed. And it is You, who approach and Like me in person and Comment to my face, who I am Thanking now. Thank You. Thank You from the bottom of my silly heart. For without your recognition and encouragement, I might have forgotten the dream..