DREAM: The ocean flows into a harbor—tall hotel buildings, beach city, collides on a shore—a tourist trap, but an exotic scene. Observing a guy ride the waves but not in a conventional surfing manner. He’s got a small board in hand, maybe a boogie board, and soars across the edge of the water—across the wave ripples—eventually reaching such a fast speed that he loops up into the sky and falls back down into the water. I am him. I perform this trick several times. As I’m high up in the air, shooting so high that I max the altitude of the surrounding buildings, I experience that excited nervous feeling you get similar to when you dip down on a rollercoaster. I reconvene back to a boat with two other guys, one of them is Anthony. There’s three white rope strands tied from three different points on the boat. We have to undo them if we want the boat to move. Each one of us takes responsibility for each rope. We hear people of authority back on shore yell out something about not using any form of light—Anthony holds a flashlight in hand and flickers it on and off.
I warn him, “We can’t even use a flashlight…”
After a few difficulties we finish untying the rope and we’re ready to move ☼☼☼ Switch to another scene………Cecily, my boss at China Wok, has gathered people into a circle encouraging us to pray… ☼☼☼ I receive a white envelope with a card in it, maybe from Hallmark, maybe it’s my birthday, or some special occasion. It says it’s from Michaela. I don’t open it. I don’t know why. But it’s understood it’s an extensive letter. I’m afraid of what it says…
Waking up at 11:30 a.m.
Breakfast: Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cereal.
All day shift at China Wok.
It’s a slow start at work—sitting there reading The Dream of a Ridiculous Man by Dostoevsky. This is good writing. Then, it hits me again amidst the flowing words of Fyodor…
That heat. That murderous feeling. That damn lava lake passing through my bloodstream……I don’t understand. But maybe I do. I know these sensational feelings all too well…It’s just so overwhelming at times—pushing me to do things I would normally be able to restrain myself from doing, not necessarily harmful or destructive things, but…ah, well, they’re just thoughts—just feelings—just a state of being, but an all consuming one at that. It will come and pass like it always does. Season after season…
“Dreams seem to be induced not by reason but by desire, not by the head but by the heart, and yet what clever tricks my reason has sometimes played on me in dreams!”
- Dostoevsky
Lunch: Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Pomegranate Cherry Ade.
In front of the line of cars waiting at the stoplight, intersection of First Colonial and Laskin. Every time I see a Kia Optima I think of you but this time it’s yours. There you are across the way. It’s undeniably yours via the MARGOAT license plate. The light turns green—we go. I have no choice but to cross your path. I can’t turn and look. I just can’t. I can’t even look at you. I don’t need to. I know what your face looks like and I know what expression it’ll have…pensive, sad, awkward. Why look. Mine will be the same. I miss you.
Chocolate-filled Cookies.
It starts raining like crazy…the Nostrum kids at Stephanie’s house place an order…
The restaurant is slammed…the phones ringing nonstop…the online orders pop out of the printer like hotcakes…and the walk-ins pile up inside. It’s mayhem and I end up having to call 6 or 7 customers to warn them their food will take longer than projected—offering them free 2-liters and free spring rolls with their orders. Most of them are understanding. I have to use my delivery guy super powers…
Dinner: Vegetable Lo Mein. Mission Street Blonde Ale.
Commotion and shenanigans at 1435…
With Skippy and Anthony—we take the Friend’s School shortcut to get to Kmart (Milk Adventures). Of course just as I predicted and expected, we run into complications. They can’t take the Oberweiss glass bottles after 10pm, meaning I can’t buy milk. I settle for some plums and mangoes. Mission failed…
Not doing much…except thinking…longing…missing…
Sleep sometime after 3:30 a.m.
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