July 27, 2004

10:26 a.m.

Bicycle Dreams, Living Spaces, and Chicago

I jotted this a few days ago and forgot to upload it:

I dreamed I was dancing. Maybe it was because of olive4ever�s note, but we were playing a gig and I was dancing. My costume, and my hair (which seemed to be bouncing around in shoulder-length pigtails) was completely covered with ribbony things that danced as I did. I figured out the steps as I went along, and wasn�t doing too badly � even got in a little breakdancing, as I recall.

The other dream was that I was on what I thought was my bicycle pedaling home in the night, only the rear brakes weren�t catching; I examined them but there was nothing to adjust. Then I noticed the handlebars were very high, because the seat was too low. My odometer was missing � hey, these handlebars weren�t even mine � I had inadvertently taken someone else�s bike. I was so far from the point of departure that I just couldn�t go back to return it; I was tempted to lay it on the grass and leave it there, but I felt very guilty about not doing the right thing and returning it. I asked someone passing what they thought, but I don�t remember their answer.

Then it was more like I had gotten the thing at a tag sale, so it was okay to keep riding it; it was just temporary transport. It was so hard to pedal, though, everything was uphill and there were vehicles and people in the way. I couldn�t lean forward to get more leverage. It seemed to be the next morning by then. I�d ridden all night and still wasn�t home.

So this morning I slept in some, and when I awoke about 45 minutes ago, it was already blazing hot outside. No bike riding today.

Since then I've had two successive dreams of John Malkovich, after each of which I woke up slightly and vowed total recall, and in the morning awoke having completely forgotten the dreams. Last night there was one about some kind of surgery where I had to go under, and my sister was having some other kind of surgery, and after the first stage I was somewhat revived in order to have a short interview before the rest of the operation. I couldn't open my mouth, though; it all had something to do with my jaw. (I'm sure I was clenching in my sleep.) Even though I had my eyes closed and was barely awake, I was still very witty and had people laughing.

Yesterday I thought to call my ex-landlady, Joliette, from when I lived in Willimantic in the '90s. She was delighted to hear from me and we had such a nice conversation. I told her I was looking and if that third floor apartment was vacated in the next few months I'd love to come back. She said she'd been heartbroken when I left in 1998. It was only for a job, as I was broke and still recovering from Ex's suicide. In the end it was a really good move for a lot of reasons, but I always remembered the apartment with fondness. I was there 5 years; longer than I've lived in any one space in my life.

Anyway I also spoke with her daughter Sunny who lives on the first floor of the house. She and I were friendly. She painted and designed each room of her apartment around a different Van Gogh painting. She also had a vast video collection of British comedy -- every AbFab, every Fawlty Towers, every Black Adder, she'd taped each one from tv. She worked, at that time, at the Mashantucket Pequot reservation, at the museum gift shop as I recall. She loved all things Native American. When the little gray cat started hanging around our parking lot, we both loved it, but she was the one who took it in -- which was fine with me. She named him Slim Jim, and he still lives with her.

It was great to talk to her -- I hadn't since I'd moved out, that'd be over six years ago. She said she missed me terribly, not least because she doesn't get along with the woman who now lives on the third floor. Sounds like an OCD case with severe anxiety. Sunny's mom had said the woman is an older student who has no money, and she'd become very anxious when the rent went up to $350 recently (it was $325 for many years, including the five I lived there -- can you imagine?), and I suggested she raise it again to $375 so the woman would move out, har. "Oh, I don't think she has enough money to go anywhere else!" Joliette replied. When I told this to Sunny, she scoffed and said, "That's such crap. She just bought a new car." Sunny said the woman was spending a lot of time overnight at her boyfriend's place, who is finishing building a house, so perhaps there's hope that she'll move in with him when it's done. Sunny said she'd do a little subtle investigating.

I got such satisfaction out of reconnecting with the two of them, and with a part of my past in which I was contented. Odd that I pretty clearly remember the two years I spent in that apartment alone -- one year before Ex moved in with me, and the almost-year after he left -- and I've successfully blocked out most of the nasty part of him being there. Of course I remember it, but it doesn't haunt me. It's like the apartment was immune to him, in the end. It was always mine. He was an interloper. He was a bull in the china shop. He was a big, black cloud that passed over for three years, spat down some foul oily stuff, ruined the carpet and blew away screaming.

Whenever I think, say or write anything like that about him, I know it's not really fair because there's so much more to it than that; but I let myself do it because I didn't have a voice for so long, and now I'm the one who gets to talk.

********

This looks like a good day to do some preliminary packing. I've targeted things like the bookcase, linen closet, and kitchen miscellany that I can live without for the next two months. We go to Maine tomorrow for a couple of days, and then Saturday I fly to Chicago with my sib. We thought it was Friday for a while (my dear brother in law is getting really scatterbrained), which would mean I'd have to book it halfway home from Maine after our Thursday gig, stay at a hotel in Massachusetts, and then get up very sleep deprived and drive a couple more hours to Rose's house so we could leave by 9 for the airport. This way is much easier; I'll have time to repack and transition. Chicago! It'll be very cool.