I examine things in my dreams, turning objects this way and that, and even doing the same in my mind. It’s an exploratory time for me. And I have choices. I like that. Last night it was about a pair of my shoes. He had taken them to a charity shop and I wanted them, needed them to be able to walk. And yet, as I remembered, they were tap shoes, red ones with that little metal piece under the toe. It was a tricky thing trying to get them back, all sorts of red tape and high-level officials were involved. I didn’t succeed. At least not yet. Could it be about my legs? I also dreamt of DP. I often do. He is always leaving me, or rejecting me. I grow more sanguine about it dream by dream.
Students and kids dressed for Halloween created a bedlam out of town this morning as I walked. They shout instead of talking. Girls in summer dresses and shorts, some with blackened eyes and fishnets, running and chasing after each other, all so loud. I am in a different universe from them in my waterproofs and with my now broken umbrella (the wind was too much for it).
I must learn to handle disappoint. Turn it to your advantage, he says. Yes. But learning acceptance is a stronger thing. I yearn for that peace of letting be. Let it be. All of it.
And below us he is dying. Slowly.
