Coming To A Short Stop

Dreamed last night that I was watching after two young children as they clung to little tubes in the middle of a lake. Swimming with them I see the image of an old, scary looking dog and comment that it’s “not Lacy (our house pet who passed away not too long ago)”. The next thing I know, water is turning shades of orange and yellow while the kids are slipping through their tubes, underwater. Constantly reaching down to retrieve them, I made my way to the side. A spotlight of yellow was traveling under the water like an evil entity searching for someone.

Of course when I reached down to grab the kidss, they had fallen under once more and I had to actually go back under the water and grab their limbs through a foggy orange view, driven and determined. I remember throwing them up over onto the grass, forcefully. It was a nightmare with a happy ending.

The last time I was home I had a few hours to myself and walked down into the den where the natural light was beginning to fade, replaced by the odd glow of Dr. Mario on my father’s television as he mindlessly piled colored blocks with the sound off. There was a new chair to replace the loveseat I took with me and I collapsed into the dark green mechanism, trying out the various vibration settings. The furnace always kicks on several degrees higher than any normal house does, that warm, intoxicating air made my eyelids heavy. Our back porch lights were strung around the awning, bright red and visible from the window beside me. Suddenly everything was quiet as though my life had been paused and I treasured every second under the radar – feeling again the relief from having nowhere to be and no one expecting a thing from you.

I knew instantly why I lived the way I did for so long and just what exactly that tempting, heavy mystery of paralysis was so thick over our acre of land in the middle of nowhere – it is summer vacation when you’re a kid. It is your cottage in Florida without the ocean or floral shirts – death without actually drowning. It is an uphill plunge into the air, drawn-out suspension with only a downhill view in sight.

The fringe is wicked, misleading. Irresistible. I could have rested there for another decade.

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3 responses to “Coming To A Short Stop

  1. Suddenly everything was quiet as though my life had been paused and I treasured every second under the radar – feeling again the relief from having nowhere to be and no one expecting a thing from you.

    I knew instantly why I lived the way I did for so long and just what exactly that tempting, heavy mystery of paralysis was so thick over our acre of land in the middle of nowhere… The fringe is wicked, misleading. Irresistible. I could have rested there for another decade.

    Wow.

    You communicate even your vulnerability with such strength.

  2. Wow.

    Suddenly everything was quiet as though my life had been paused and I treasured every second under the radar – feeling again the relief from having nowhere to be and no one expecting a thing from you.

    I knew instantly why I lived the way I did for so long and just what exactly that tempting, heavy mystery of paralysis was so thick over our acre of land in the middle of nowhere… The fringe is wicked, misleading. Irresistible. I could have rested there for another decade.

    You communicate even your vulnerability with such strength.

  3. :) that all sounds perfect. it will be a drag if he was miss diagnosed. but it would be good as bad things go. he is the demographic they would like. he has prospects for finding some normalcy.

    i get that feeling of hiding away from the bad things by locking the doors pulling the shades… in the winter when it snows and everything is stopped. thats the best. the bright sun on new snow and you know that nobody is going to intrude.

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