I had the strangest dream last night. My first memories from it were of me wandering the halls of this huge, otherworldly, low-income housing project looking for a patient I’d been assigned to do a “wellness” check on.
Yes, you read that right. The old “urban hermit,” whose own borderline agoraphobia practically prevents him from ever leaving his apartment, who could probably benefit from a visit or two by someone checking on his own “wellness,” was dreaming of being a volunteer who roams around checking in on the sick and housebound! Crazy, right?
Well it got even crazier! After wandering around seemingly forever, lost, and having to repeatedly explain myself to curious, if not downright confrontational, people wondering about this stranger’s intrusion into their domain, I ended up spending what seems like days caring after a man who’d gone off his meds while awaiting transport because he really needed to return to the hospital.
And then it was on to my next patient, a woman who’d had to have her entire face rebuilt following a terrible accident who’d become so used to hiding her grotesqueness from others that even now, after a successful, if not downright miraculous, surgery that had left her almost too beautiful to believe, was still was unable to bear the thought of anyone looking at her.
In an effort to make her more comfortable, if not gain her complete trust, I started to tell her a little about my own life. About how being a blonde-haired and white-looking “pretty boy” as a child, who seemed to have everything while living in nearly all-black ghetto neighborhoods, had instilled within me such a deep-seated and overwhelming aversion to attention. And how, despite all my own years of self-imposed exile, there I was, beaming my damned near toothless grin out of a face straight off the cover of Jethro Tull’s Aqualung, attempting to cajole someone whose beauty I’d kill for into showing herself to the world.
And that’s when the sheer absurdity of the dream, along with a veritable tsunami of memories, forced me into a state of wakefulness with my mind reeling with billboard sized “WTF?!?!” questions! While the implications of the dream are fairly obvious of course, the question of “why now?” remains nonetheless.
I’m just guessing here, but the dream could well have sprouted from my falling asleep to CNN’s droning characterization of Gen. David Petraeus as “General Betray Us,” working in combination with the frustration I’ve been feeling lately due to my overly perfectionistic desire to “beautify” this blog (99% of which I’ve kept totally hidden from you)…
Hell, I think I’ll go with that… “Yea… that’s the ticket!”
And you people wonder why I spend so much time mocking myself…
And now my friends, another selection from my list of favorite songs that absolutely no one has ever heard of and yet whose lyrics play through my mind on an almost daily basis…
I want ice water.
More from the My Life volume