SOME SORT OF A DREAM

SOME SORT OF DREAM?

This is a story about Amy. A story only Amy, can tell. So right off the bat she will tell you that she has issues. Yes. I said it, and I know it. Issues. I-S-S U-E-S

Issues…

Fuck. That word.

The issues. The reasons. The be-causes. Be-cause…

Of Amy.

Because of what she normally does.

She causes a lot of effect.

Amy is a creature of habit. I think that this is what defines her. Along with a lot of other things, too. Other things being mixed in between and around some major issues. Issues that lead her back to the old beginning. Lol. So today, she is starting anew. Again. She doesn’t know how far this is going to take her, or how long it’s going to take her to get there, but she is getting ready for it.

Only some of her words are legible. Words like blood sugar and heart rate. Thyroid. Thyroid, hair. Or lack thereof. Crazy eyes. Spin-spin drop. It’s all there.

Focus…

Focus...

How long does it take poison to seep out of your muscles and your bones? And what happens, or what is going to happen, after it is gone?

This...

Another fucking road-block.

That’s what will happen. It will come back to the accident. The answer for everything. But this is kind of what she is looking for. Just not in those words.

Why she's doing this is still somewhat unclear. On a good note, it’s not as fuzzy as before.

Maybe.

She does know that she is still lost.

Closer.

But, still lost.

Lost…

All be-cause, she found something today.

Actually, she found it a long time ago, and then she lost it. Then she found it again.

Circles.

She’s always searching for something.

Lost, and found.

And quite possibly, an answer. But only if she keeps finding the pieces. The pieces to her puzzle.

***ONE PROBLEM***

She doesn’t know where to put them.

Yet.

Right now as we speak, they are all over the place(s). She tries to keep those things, together. Some drawer. Some, box. Somewhere. And then she moves them again because she thinks she will remember.

It never works.

Probably because of her issue.

Amy, Amy, Amy.

Yep.

Amy. That is her issue.

Lol.

A never-ending issue.

This is that story.

Hello.

Today she can see it. A new beginning, to an old pattern. In different shapes, sizes, and sounds. With drama-drama-drama. Maybe a comedy? Exciting and sad? Boring, too.

Mainly, it’s typical. Because Amy is a, fickle person.

A puzzled, person.

She has so many pieces. So, many clues.

Yet she is lost.

Maybe too many pieces. Too, many clues.

That’s probably why she gets lost.

Lost…

Ye-ah.

That’s, why.

It’s because her head’s not on straight. Or right.

Or, left.

Literally.

But her shoulders are more straight across than they’ve, ever been.

Amy is a creature-of-habit. I think this is what defines her. In fact, I know it is. Anyway, this is a story with a beginning. But she is still in the middle. Because there is no end to something that is never-ending. And there are a million issues, that always take her back to the beginning. So this is what she did…

She started anew.

Again.

But she is so far ahead of her old beginning.

It will never end if I don’t start.

In The Beginning…

Round and round she goes. The reason for her beginning in the middle.

The reason…

Is her.

Yep.

Amy, Amy, Amy.

How is she going to manipulate this situation? How will she use this to her advantage?

Manipulate…the situation.

How is she going to watch and listen?

Without vomiting.

Because she felt ok.

This morning...

This morning she had a neck-tug and an Xray. Again. What is this thing inside of me? Maybe a, stroke? Am I going to, stroke-out?

Am I stroking out?

As Aaron would put it.

This is all I care about.

It’s almost over.

(There are some things that will never be over)

LIAR.

What do I believe???

You have no, idea.

I don’t even know.

Right now anyway.

Right now?

All my hair is falling out.

What is happening to me??

Will I ever know?

Probably, not.

Accept it.

And my face is fucking ugly.

I’m okay here.

This is my spot. Blahblahblah.

Tomorrow, I’ll be outside.

ALL…DAY.

Tonight she is going to stay sitting by the fire waiting for her daily crossword.

A day early.

Thinking…

It’s not about what you do. Or even what you say you say you said you did or didn’t do. It’s all about how you are.

Example:

I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life.

-Georgia O’ Keefe

Please, wake me up.

Please….

Wake, me, up!!!

She remembers her mother’s voice speaking so quietly…

No honey…you’re not…dreaming.

This is my dream. I’ll decide where it goes from here.

-Alice

Epiphany.

She can’t think of the meaning, but she does know that it sounds like an Amy word.

Kind of.

Epiphamy.

She knows what it means, but she can’t put it into words well enough for her to be able to explain it. And then be able to understand it herself. She does know what a part of it is though. It is the part, that is a feeling. An unmistakable, feeling. That, she knows for sure.

She has them all of the time.

She’s had them ever since she can remember. She has never known how to understand these feelings. Or how to get a handle on them. It’s a terrifying feeling. A Déjà vu, kind of feeling. An unavoidable occurrence that is happening right now at this or that very moment.

Everybody’s had them.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Is she awake?

Or is she, asleep?

She didn't know.

She still doesn't know.

Wonderful.

It’s confusing to her. Quite scary, too. It creeps her out every time it happens. Is this, good?

Is this bad?

Should I be happy?

Should I be…sad?

Is this positive?

Is this…negative?

What are you supposed to feel, Amy?

How do you want to feel Amy?

Tell me now Amy.

What’s the right way, and what’s the wrong way?

Amy??

AMY!!!

Pick-a-side-Amy.

HURRY!!!

She wonders if this is her sign. A spiritual awakening, so to speak. She gets head to toe nervous and then she's frozen...

She thinks these little episodes are coming way, too often. She also knows that she is not too particularly, fond of them.

Amy is scared today.

Again.

Amy is scared every day. Every time she wakes up, she is scared. Sometimes it’s a good fear. But it is still, a fear. And that is scary to her.

Example:

Amy’s memory and information overload is turning into a huge sense of fear. She can't explain it to anybody. This has turned into an emotional fallout for her. (The boys love that game) But this is not a game. This is not a game, no. Maybe.

During the holidays Amy had some sort breakdown. It was dark, and it was dreary.

Every day.

Was this a seasonal thing? Or was she having a, medical issue? She was sick. The holidays are over so she shouldn’t be sick anymore.

Because almost a year ago, Amy received a letter from the Social Security office. It was short and to the point. After thirty-some-odd years they have decided to change most of what has Amy has ever known. She is being told what she is, how she is, and who she is. Once again. Playing phone-tag can be very frustrating. And irritating, at the same time. But there is also a flip side to this situation. When you have called my number and I see it on my recent calls list, you are probably thinking that this Amy girl is quite crazy. And quite probably a waste of your time.’

Well…

Just wait. Give yourself a chance. This perhaps, may be something that you find both comical, beautiful, and ugly, fucking ugly, at the same time. It’s growing and it keeps on growing. With a little imagination…

This one thing...

WOW.

But Amy was sick. And tired. And bored, lonely, angry, sad, mad, and completely lost.

Lost…

She didn’t know how to feel, or if she even wanted to feel. She was stale. No emotion, nothing. Zero.

Zilch.

This may be her way of networking. Throwing herself out there. Testing out the waters with tip of her longest toe. What she has done. What she has never done. Honesty is ALWAYS the best way to go. You don’t know her though.

Youuu don’t know...

Amy is in a good spot tonight. She is not outside. Nor is she at her desk. She is at the dining table doing her stuff. She cleaned off the built-in hutch to make room for some more of her things. She found the bowl for her wax burner, so she took the light out of the elephant to use instead. Change is good.

And I miss my owl.

Anyway…

I’m forgetting.

And I’m letting things go. Only because I’m sick of it.

Change is good.

Ex.

Do I want friends?

No.

Not, really. She thinks that maybe she needs them more than she wants them. She needs a connection from somewhere. She is missing something.

She only thinks like that from time to time. Mainly, every day. But different hours, during the day. It’s not a bad feeling. It doesn’t make her hurt. It makes her want to cry. A feeling of emptiness. A hole in the chest. A pit, in the stomach.

A thorn in my side.

I want to feel alive. But I am tired. I wasn’t two minutes ago. And I probably won’t be two minutes from now.

She needs the music on.

I’ve been doing me.

Yep.

I’m just doing me.

I do not wait for ideal circumstances or favorable conditions. I find myself, here, in this present, whatever may happen or not happen. -David Dillard-Wright, PhD

What are you supposed to feel, Amy?

How do you want to feel Amy?

Tell me now Amy.

What’s the right way, and what’s the wrong way? Amy??

Amy???

AMY!!!

Pick-a-side-Amy.

HURRY!!!

ANYONEWHOISNTCONFUSEDDOESNTUNDERSTANDTHESITUATIONEDWARDRMURROW

It happened almost a year ago. It was when Amy received a letter from the Social Security office.

It was short and to the point. After thirty-some-odd years, they have decided to change most of what Amy has known. She is being told what she is, how she is, and who she is.

Once again.

Playing phone-tag can be very frustrating and irritating at the same time. When you have called my number and I see it on my recent calls list, you are probably thinking that this Amy girl is quite crazy.

But...

Just wait...

This perhaps may be something that you find comical, beautiful, and ugly, fucking ugly, at the same time. It is growing, and it keeps on, growing. She missed your call again, today. Your missed calls have stayed in her phone for years. She has been thinking of all the things that she would like to explain to you. Just think about it.

With a little imagination this one thing...

WOW.

Amy doesn't talk to people much since the world of texting. If she doesn't know the number on her phone, she will never answer. You sparked her interest by learning that there is somebody out there who may be interested in what she has to share. This is the only way she can do this. This may be her way of networking. Throwing herself out there.

Testing out the waters with tip of her longest toe.

Seeing the where, when and the how mixed with the what and the why of it all.

Honesty is ALWAYS the best way to go. You don’t know her though.

Youuu don’t know...

Amy is on the outside looking in, to the inside. She is a totally different person than she has ever been. Probably because after forty-something years, she has learned that she is a pretty neat person.

She does like to try and keep a healthy balance.

So...

She sometimes loathes herself. On a good note, she loves to laugh. And she says dumb things, in a real kind of way.

Her real.

Amy likes to think that she is pretty good at reading body expressions. She always watches the eyes and listens to the voice. That way, she can hear the tone. I will express the best that I have within me with everything that I do.

And say.

Hello.

My name is Amy.

Okay…

This is the first, but this is also the last.

Let’s say this is the ending to the middle of the old beginning.

Lol.

As not to get lost.

Is this a part of the plan?

It’s a game.

It’s a puzzle.

It’s a plan...

She has a messed-up head, and she walks with a crook.

A million different…

A million different ways to be me.

Ching-ching. Bang-bang.

Say it! Say it!

Boxes of memories. A chaotic mind riding on the edge. It just doesn’t matter anymore.

Hello?

Say it! Say it!

She remembers parts so clearly. Staring out over the ocean. Her muffled screams before she lost her mind. Focus.

Focus.

Focus.

Open doors with locks and keys. A yellow house once filled with dreams. Falling into a world of defeat. There is always a different way.

So close…

So close, she could hear them breathe.

I am not deaf.

I am not blind.

I am.

I feel pain. I feel fear. How do I be? I want to hide. I feel pounding. I feel hurt. I feel worry. I don’t want to remember. I thought that I was dreaming. Expecting a different conclusion. How do I forget my confusion? Being reminded.

I’m not deaf.

I’m not blind.

I am.

A million different ways.

A million different ways to be me.

Smile…

Hello?

Her terrified screaming that no one could hear. Her eyes that are open and filled with fear. Knowledge is barren as the deserts are dry. She’s alone with her fear and she doesn’t know why. Is the pain good? Or is this pain bad? Shouldn’t I be happy? Clang, clang, clang. Ching- ching. Bang-bang.

Say it!

The words, tears, touch, and tone. It’s been so long. How did we get here? Somebody, hear me. Why am I so alone? Listen to me and tell me…what do you hear? The lies or the truth? Say it! Are we honest or untrue? Say it! There is nothing you can do. The answer is unreal. Something is there. You want to see, and I want to feel. Without feeling wrong.

An unmistakable feeling…

Clang, clang, clang.

Was this a part of the plan?

It’s a game.

It’s a puzzle. Say it! It is all that she knows. It is what she remembers. An unmistakable feeling…

Clang, clang, clang.

Hello.

Left side right side, which way does she go? Please wake her. It’s all random thoughts. Clang, clang, clang. Ching-ching.

Bang-bang.

A million different ways.

Tomorrow is another day. FYI…

Her garden. It’s full of red. Red, bushes. Red Dahlia’s. Red thorns. A red wagon. And an amazing, red-bud bush. Red-red-red. With green. And the yellow four headed queen. It’s the patterns. The bold colors of fall.

A million different ways to be me.

Lol.

A double-edged sword.

She’s falling into a world of defeat. There is always a different way. A refusal at first, walking into the maze. So close, she could hear them breathe. I am not deaf. I am not blind. I am.

There is no voice. I can’t escape myself. The lightning is crashing, and her confusion is real. She is lost in a box of time yearning for the truth. Be honest.

Lie, lie, lie.

I feel pain. I feel fear. How do I be? I want to hide. I feel pounding hurting me. I feel worry.

Wonder… Wonder, wonder.

A one-way ticket. I need to go home. I want to go home. I am not deaf. I am not blind. I am.

Pick a side.

What do I do…

Where do I go??

I am always going to wonder. You did something. There is something there.

It’s here.

It will not go away.

Most of the time I don’t want this. It’s not time yet. I am changing my behavior towards it.

It’s there.

So many different ways to lie.

I want to fly. I want to soar.

I don’t want to be alone at night.

Any, more.

I see bigger and newer things, all around.

I see what is happening, all around also.

Did they get lost?

There was no end. It is not over.

It is just…

Beginning.

I wish that life would leave me a pause. Let this all pass me by for a moment. You deserve to be alone. I was.

This will surround me. It always has.

I don’t know much difference between loss and life.

Today anyway.

I DON’T WANT TO GO!

To change my life, I have to change myself.

How to be.

How to be.

How do I want you to see me?

I really don’t care at this moment.

How do I want to be?

Unforgiving...

But proud.

Relentless.

And loud.

But then there is me. Letting things go, and letting things be.

Go...

Trust, thyself. Move forward.

LOL.

Be sure…

Of something.

I remember some. I remember dreaming.

Lol.

Dreaming that I was dreaming.

Omg.

And I couldn’t wake up.

I was dizzy.

Did I expect a different conclusion?

How do I forget my confusion?

Hey-hey.

Being reminded, not reminiscing.

Good morning.

Hello, Saturday.

The mystery of this moment…

I begin anew this moment. I awaken to the possibility that this moment holds. I live into this unknown present. I do not reduce the present to my preconceived notions.

-unknown