Morning Paragraph

I have been having weird dreams that are just past the tip of my mind’s mental fingertips in the “remembering” department. I have some fragments. The skin on my face started to peel in one dream and then I ended up peeling large sections of my entire face off.  Cali Cat had a baby that I wanted to bring into the house only to realize she gave birth to a kitten that had fleas on it. Dark figures haunt me and I do not know why, no real faces, just dark clothes wearing derby hats.

Lately my brain wakes me up at 330AM with an already in progress thought. Today was the: I wish I would have gone to the tomb of General Grant while I lived in NYC.  Why that thought? No fucking clue. Not a one.  But from that, I then thought of every single thing that, in retrospect, I have wished I had seen before moving away.  The unicorn painting. The Imagine stones that represent John Lennon.  The Little Lighthouse in the river.  Why did I not check for my family names at Ellis Island?  I’ve never been to Governor’s Island.

Then for the next couple of hours my brain meticulously sorted and searched the things that I shoulda coulda woulda done had I not been distracted by other things. And then my brain is mad at me and sad for me and happy to have had the experience at all.

And on the other side of my brain’s hemisphere is the active (now awake) thoughts of: If I try meditation… If I try conscious relaxation of each part of my body…  If I try to break that train of thought into something more relaxing and less taxing…

And somewhere about two hours later I doze off again.  And I wake tired.

Did I have coffee late in the day this time?


Maybe I should write about it in a continual thread which I can update the “themes” and maybe figure out a pattern?

I will forget…

When I still had my ovaries, the thought pattern was always the regret of “not enough time” at the end with Ma.  It is the single largest regret (I have few regrets, very few) that I have in my life.  It haunts me.  Like the drip of a faucet in the next room.  Irritating my senses.  Not allowing me to concentrate elsewhere.

Ma’s theme still happens on occasion but there is no rhyme or reason to the patterns.  Only the overwhelming feeling of being tired when I wake up.


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