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I just woke up from the most incredible dream I’ve ever had. I mean, it was my “Xanadu” dream*, I’ve never dreamed anything like it. And while I tried to write down as much as I could, it was already fading by then and you can’t capture that stuff. Not really.
So, now I tell myself this: it doesn’t matter what I remember. What matters is that stuff is in my head. Ready to be made into other things. I need to make them.
(*poem or movie, it doesn’t matter)
So, due to medical factors (not overly serious) my trip to Peru has been cancelled at the last second. It’s been a rough few days of trying to readjust to that reality. There will be more rough days to come. But that’s the update for now. Things proceed the way they should proceed. Or that is, at least, how I will do my best to get by.
28 days off meds, 19 days until I leave for Peru. I feel displaced and uncomfortable in my skin. There are moments that I’m excited to go, and other moments of terror. On the whole, the excitement moments are losing. But I know this makes a difference, I know there’s an “other side” to this terrible process. So I try to wait it out. I try to ignore the sense of decay and collapse. Little bits of me flaking off, like Joe Chip.
My inclination is not to post this. My inclination, frankly, is to not say anything until this is over. I don’t fake things well, but I fake them anyway out of a desire to not have to talk about it at length. But I also remember how dark things got for me after I got back from Peru the last time and couldn’t reconnect to all of the good. Because I had shut down and hadn’t forced myself to talk about it as it was happening. So it took me almost a year to even begin rekindling that feeling and putting it into words.
So, here I am typing. This is for me. Please remember to read it later.