Stale Popcorn

Last night I had the most horrible nightmares. All night long. I'd wake up from one dream, toss and turn for a bit, then go back to sleep and end up in another bad one. Seriously. There were six or seven nightmares in a row! I suppose, from a psychological standpoint, this can be attributed to stress (both good and bad) & my mind's desire to work things out: landing the new adjunct English Comp. position at AIP; wondering how Aaron's doing as he prepares to move to Scotland on Saturday; hoping my mom's doing okay, and wanting her to come back to Portland from NYC all refreshed, reinvigorated; dealing with my writing concerns and questions. At this point--hours after waking--I'm left with mostly psychic impressions, a few straggling images. The water slide at an amusement park, something murky in the waters and in the shadows of the building. Breathing underwater as two men, wearing scuba gear, try to break into the pool/amusement complex from a grate below, and I approach them, and we get into an argument and battle. Icky emotions remembered, being hunted, stalked by demonic presences, a feeling of claustrophobia.

I talked to Aaron this morning. I'm sure going to miss you, bro. Hopefully, in addition to talking, emailing, etc., you can read this blog and feel connected to me over here in PDX. Not only will you have Kristin, but my good friend Marieke lives "just down the road," and you two can hang out and discuss my fabulousness, 'kay?

Lately the muse has been using me wisely. It's almost like I can't keep up with all the images and stories and sentences that cut through me like delicious blades. In a way, it's crippling, because I can't get everything down, but crippling is surely the wrong word: crippling implies a negative thing. I love being flooded by the muse. I just need to breathe deeply and let instinct take over, one step at a time.

Yesterday was the six-year anniversary of 9/11. I honored the day with some deep meditations, and I thought back to the peace vigil Mom and I attended a couple weeks ago. It felt powerful and gentle, soft and illuminating, all at the same time. About a hundred of us gathered on the Hawthorne bridge, holding candles and flashlights and signs, waving and shouting and hugging. I am so proud of Jan for asking me to go with her, for her ability to always stay true to herself. She truly is my favorite role model.

Hugs and love to you all. I hope that tonight I slip into a different personal cinema, where the popcorn is fresh and has just the right amount of butter and garlic salt. Maybe I'll end up with some chocolate covered raisins, too, and a yummy Coke to wash everything down.