Not sure what’s going to come out of this, or why I’m doing it. I already had to refill a half cup of coffee into a full one – I had slept late and woke up just in time for a job interview. For a job that I’ve already had before. It’s like my life has come full circle to what it was exactly 10 years ago – Dating a white man, back at my old place, and working the same job.
I have a pile of money now though, I shouldn’t let that opportunity slip off.
I had a dream last night – a specific kind of dream, the tooth dream. And once again, my Father was not in it. Let me see what I can get down about it.
I was in an antique store, with all of the women in my Father’s family. Was my Mother there?
I was perusing the selection, trying to find something I liked. I believe we were in Chicago, incidentally where I saw them all last. There were a lot of art deco style chrome pieces, and I remember looking out of the high building windows – no building in Chicago is high enough to look out and not know where you are, as they are in New York – and seeing that we were on Magnificent Mile. Now I’m thinking of the landmarks, and I believe it was the hotel we last stayed in as a family. The shopping section was visible across the river.
I remember 3 of my female cousins being there specifically, maybe more, but there were more people that I didn’t know, that in my dream I felt like I knew.
I remember a tooth falling out. My front tooth, and I was worried about how to replace it. I looked in a mirror and couldn’t see where the tooth had come from, but the tooth itself appeared to be a front tooth. Then, a crack, and half of my front right tooth came out as well. I remember thinking how unsightly that was, how and when I should get it fixed, would they be able to?
I then looked at my beautiful, but in a different way from the rest of us, half Nigerian cousin, who was handling the whole thing in stride. She had something more important to say to me. I don’t remember exactly what it was but I remember that the gist of it was that there was something I needed to do, urgently. Something that I should have done before.I have to go get on the family group chat. And it occurs to me that she of all people would not think it weird to call and say that I had a dream about her.
I have one very specific talent – I know when people are going to die.Me to my boyfriend the other day, when I found out my landlord had died. And me to anyone who ever asks. Because it’s true.
I have way too many loose ends to tie up in my life. It’s scattered into a million pieces, and what will happen to me when I get to be like my Grandmother, and can’t remember which of the pieces fits where, and finally for the last time fall apart? It’s not dementia, it’s a life of dissociative disorder paired with the mild forgetfulness of old age. Ordinarily people could just make a few to-do lists to deal with it, but what happens when each of the people you’ve split yourself into has their own agenda? All those lists.
This, pouring another cup of coffee and sitting down to write here, feels like a good idea. Although this coffee is lukewarm and I want to heat it up, but I don’t want to break my train of thought.
If I get up, do I trust myself to come back?
I did – again, not sure if it’s a good or bad thing. but this is the last cup of coffee. And I texted my brother and realized who I should be talking to, besides everyone.
Why (I started a new paragraph just so I could make sure that I was moving past starting paragraphs with I) do I pick up a new white man, several white men, fuck with the internet and shake more white men out of it, when what I should be doing is dealing with the person I actually am and dealing with the people that actually matter to me.
It just doesn’t feel right. The only person here that actually matters to me is the one that I keep putting off, the one that I’m cancelling plans with. Those are the plans that I should actually be keeping. But once again, here I go. Something feels so wrong about that.My father, to me, as he canceled our plans last week. And me to my side dude, who actually took things surprisingly well until I royally fucked up. I can’t even go about figuring out how to fix things… I always fill my personal relationships with more than they can hold. It seems great, it seems like there’s enough room, but then as I’m putting stuff in I see that suddenly, the meniscus bursts open on the top and rivulets pour like tears down every side of the glass.
Of course, my Mother has decided to call now.
I love her.