I felt sick as a dog on the night of September 11th. I was waking up hourly to empty my liquid bowels. Standing up made me nauseous and I was afraid I was going to shit down my own legs. I figured maybe it was one of the eggs I put into my dinner omelet.
The cats weren’t helping. They wanted to lay on my stomach, causing me more discomfort. I just wanted to sleep it off.
The 11th rolled into the 12, and I tried to go about my normal routine, but I wasn’t feeling normal at all. My uncle came over to help out my grandma and I tried to sleep the day away, but was reawakened every hour or two by demanding felines.
I slipped in and out of dream space.
The woman accuses me of being an escort because I have a stack of cash. I tell her I just sold my truck. She also accuses me of having fake “air inflated” breasts. I tell her that “that isn’t at all true. I got fat and lost some weight and now I have stretch marks.”
Other strange thoughts invade my mind as I toss and turn.
I just don’t want to feel this way anymore. I just want to sleep for 24 hours straight. I just want to be taken care of because I don’t have the energy right now to care at all.
I wake up early on September 13th. I go to my Facebook feed. There she is in my memories. My fur buddy’s 10th Doggaversary. Today would have been our 11th.
See just when I was settling into the idea that I no longer have to fill her water and food bowls, I am reminded of how far we went, and how close we came to 11. I think about how, we would celebrate together since my birthday is so close to the day we found each other.
I realize, it wasn’t the eggs that made me sick; it was knowing that I would have to wake up on the 13th and deal with a new slew of emotions. And that settling into emotions is much like the settling of sand which can be moved by a breeze, or a wash of water, dried out by the sun and stepped on, only to be encrusted into the indentations of some passerby’s shoes and transported to places unseen.
I’d like to not have to do anything for a while, so that I can just sleep if I want to sleep and dream these weird dreams, hoping we eventually reunite in that dreamspace for a little bit. And, see I know I can’t tarry there long, but I would still like the opportunity, nonetheless.
One thought on “My Best Friend: Just When I Was Getting Comfortable”
This made me cry.
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