Jeremiah's School of Levitation

My dreams are starting to scare me. Not in the nightmare sense of, say, the Joker coming to get me to show me that pencil disappearing act again. Except, he's going to use one of those fat pencils I used to use in 1st grade. No, not a dream like that. This set of dreams I'm having are disturbing on a different level. Last night, I dreamed of an old friend of mine, a girl, who we'll call Scarlet. Scarlet lived across the hall from me in the dorms way back in college and, though nothing incredibly significant passed between us, here I was dreaming about her (well, ok, there was one MINOR thing that passed between us: she was my girlfriend's roommate and, one night, my girlfriend and I decided it was business time and we went about our business with Scarlet asleep, or, so we thought--we later found out, from "friends", that Scarlet actually wasn't asleep and, didn't even have her eyes closed! Ha! Ha! Crap!).

Anyhow, Scarlet appeared in my dream not a day older than when we last spoke, roughly 18 years ago. But, in my dream, she now had a sister, who looked a lot like her, and who was, in the dream, extremely interested in me. She hugged me, gazed at me as I spoke to Scarlet, and grinned whenever I looked at her. Now, Scarlet didn't have a sister, as far as I knew, and I never had reason to wonder if she did. And, if I did, why, 18 years later, does my mind decide to ponder on it? And, married as I am, what's the deal with the imaginary sister of a marginal friend courting me in a dream? Didn't she check my marital status at the door of my imagination before she entered this dream? Do I need to hire someone else to guard my dreamgate because, apparently, some strange folks are getting in. Not that it hasn't happened before, but usually, even that three-faced ferret with the British accent that got in last week can be traced back to a couple of credible thoughts that got run together somewhere in my head. But, Scarlet's sister? From whence did she come and, even more importantly, what does she mean?

We got a bunch of snow here in the metropolitain area of the Pacific Great Northwest Region. At my place, about 8 inches total fell over a few days and that effectively crippled the entire city. Side streets in my hood never got plowed, many cars languished sideways in ditches and against rails, the trash collectors never came (two weeks and counting--the crows are having a party--this is the Great Garbage Event that has been written about in crow lore), and even mall parking lots never got fully plowed so that Christmas shoppers were constantly kept from Christmas shopping (all the while, retailers cry about a downturn in business--hey, I've got 100 bucks I'd love to spend if I can just get my car into your lot!).

Anyway, that's no excuse for me being gone for a year, but it does offer up a metaphor for my absence. I've been snowed in by life itself. Nothing tragic, thank (insert deity of your choice), but certainly weighty. And, I know there have been folks wanting to read, if I would only write, by golly, and I apologize. But, I'm struggling back awake here and I realize, somehow, that part of the therapy I need is actually not to stop writing, but to write more, dang it! There's plenty to say. So, let me brush off the slush and get back to it, albeit slowly. Yea, soon the cold drifts of my absence will be warmed away by the sunshine of my presence and soon, green patches of my words will sprout the flowers of brief, but levitating, coherence. Or, something like that.

Okay. Um. This place looks familiar. Like I've been here before. Like I've squatted here afore. Pretty comfortable! Who kept the bed warm? Nice! Okay, I'll stay a bit. I just need to know two things. Where's the fridge? Where's the bathroom? And, who's got the remote? Okay, I need to know three things.