Maybe it’s lack of sleep or the deviation from my normal routine of “work. yoga. write. sleep. repeat.”
My brother was a frequent sleepwalker when we were kids. This provided us with endless amusing stories to fill dull moments during family dinners for years to come. Even now, the awkward period between having our plates cleared and the arrival of the check at Applebee’s usually involves a comedic retelling of one of his misadventures. I have always wondered how he felt as he strolled around our house attempting to open doors and pee in sinks while muttering a conversation with Santa Claus. Did it seem real to him? How did the reality of objects and gravity mesh with the scenery of his dreams?
I feel like I’ve been in a perpetual state of hanging out…even when I’m actually asleep, I dream that I am just kicking it with Tomm. My dreams are plotless…more like a slow-moving streams of listening to music and being silly and talking about all varieties of subject matter. This morning I asked, “Did I dream this or did Simon magically appear in the bedroom last night?” (This being a possible act of magic because the door was barricaded with suitcases and a pair of riding boots). I was assured that Simon had in fact suddenly appeared on the bed (perhaps to bite Tomm in the face), but he had been most likely napping in the closet when we shut the bedroom door. It would have been just as plausible to me that my cat had become an incredibly laidback shape shifter.
Maybe all of this dreaminess is the result of my stubborn refusal to think beyond the current day, lest I am reminded that soon it will be time for Tomm to return to the desert. I will not acknowledge clocks and calendars. I don’t want to worry about next week or last week. Also on the list of topics I will not allow myself to consider: stupid stuff I’ve done/said in the past and stupid stuff I could say/do in the future. And anyway, there is so much to enjoy at this exact moment, including (but not limited to) having coffee made for me in the morning, someone listening to me talk about Henry Miller or stories starring my friends or my inarticulate descriptions of bands, games of Boggle with 3 instead of 2, and frequent laughing episodes that almost hurt my lungs.
But…to speak about the future for a mere second: I’m so excited that it’s fall and my friends are super fun and I’m moving to West Philly next month. And I’m going to LA at the end of next week for work.
P.S. Burning up my Ipod right now: Koushik, Out My Window. Very dreamy.