The Ghost in You.

Inside you the time moves

And she don't fade The ghost in you She don't fade Inside you the time moves And she don't fade

Where's Jake? There are three dogs in the picture.

Yes, I'm borrowing some Psychedelic Furs lyrics here. They were recently in a dream I had- one of many very realistic dreams I've been having of late. My therapist, who I visit on occasion when I feel the need to step back from the giant abyss encircling my life, said that they're most likely "stress-related". Well, yeah, I get that. But they're very unsettling, in very different ways. No matter what the outcome of the dream is, happy, sad, comical, trippy; the end result is that I wake up alone. Or mostly alone, as the dogs will often be staring at me with a quizzical expression, such as "What do humans think about when they dream, chasing squirrels, rabbits and wild mushroom pizzas"?

I wish that's all I've been dreaming about. Except they've been mostly about Abby. Sometimes it involves some fight maybe we had in the past, though they're not really about a specific fight- I think somehow the dream manifests itself into some generic fight based on a specific time period in our relationship, but now it just feels horrible and remorseful to think that we ever had a fight and that I'd still rather have her here with me and have a big 'ol fight than the reality that is today. And sometimes it's been a beautiful dream; again, an event that maybe never took place in real life, but has been created from multiple good times mashed together and served up on a silver platter. And when I awake, feeling enriched and glowing, then f*cking reality bites again, and she's still not there, and I just want to go back under the covers, into my dream state, and not wake up.

*******************

So spending alone time at home is always an adventure, I guess because most days are alone time now. Cooking for one, movies and shows (at home) for one, sex for one (I guess that was mostly a solitary act anyway). I know many of you have been doing these things, by yourself, for many years (but I won't tell your Priest or Rabbi). And I know some of you may may be married, or divorced or single. And I was always ok being alone for a period of time, whether for a night out or two, or if Abby had the rare occasion to be away for something. But I always knew she’d be back, whether later that night or whenever- point is I didn’t worry about it because I was secure in our relationship and we trusted each other. The thought of having to do that again, possibly one day, with someone else, is terrifying and exhausting. To have finally found someone to give your heart to is no rare feat. To do that successfully twice in one lifetime seems impossible. I know it can be done, and I’ve seen it happen to people. I’m just projecting down the road which is something I always promise myself not to do. But here I am doing it anyway, despite my best lack of judgement. I don't know why it hits me like a hunk of ice falling from a tall building, despite the signs that say “danger falling ice” which you usually see when it’s way too late to change your course or move out of the way. Thanks insurance companies for caring about us pedestrians because we really are just pedestrian to you. “Oops we warned him!” Thanks a bunch.

I just finished watching “Don’t worry, he won’t get far on foot.” The true story of John Callahan, the quadriplegic cartoonist who had a wicked dark sense of humor and became successful after overcoming a lot of shit in his life, much of it self-inflicted. He died at 59- same age I find myself at now, and though his situation has nothing in common with mine, except maybe the warped sense of humor, I’m still wondering what my next chapter is going to be. I want to rip open the pages of my life timeline, just a little, to honestly see what’s coming f*cking next. Some days the future seems years away, and then at times it’s counting hours. Or minutes. Tick tock. It’s just maddening at times. I’m trying really hard to stay positive and be positive and live positive and know things will be good again. But I guess that implies that things are bad now, which is not entirely true when I look in the truth-o-mirror. Despite losing their mom, my kids are doing great. Emotionally I can’t tell you exactly what they’re feeling- I just try to be here for them. But in their daily young lives, I’m so proud of them and what they’ve accomplished so far. I never had my shit together like they do at their age. So yes, I’m lucky. And I have great friends and family, so yes, I’m lucky. Plus 3 dogs and 2 cats to keep me company. Yes, I’m lucky to be running the Grant pet hotel even if they drive me crazy some days with their doggietude and catitude. Time heals they say, and time is taking it's fucking time. Sorry; no edit on "fucking" this sentence, it had to be said and read in all it's fucking glory.

Much of my frustration and depression now revolves around job hunting. When I had to leave my job a couple of years ago to take care of Abby, I knew it was a risk, stepping out of the workforce and my career at my age. But there really was never a choice, and no matter what happens moving forward, I know I did the right thing. I can't imagine it any differently, except for Abby never to have gotten sick in the first place. I've had some interviews, some work (not much), and continue to teach at Emerson. But I need to be back in a creative environment for my sanity and for well, the money honey. But ageism is real, it's ugly, it's out there. Being overqualified for many jobs seems absurd, and reading some of the job descriptions now are even more absurd. Companies are listing skills needed for jobs that are basically qualifications that would take between three to fifty people to accomplish. 99 out of 100 job listings are for imaginary people that just don't exist. And when the list of job requirements and skills needed run twice as long as your average resume, you know there's something up. But the best part is when they are looking for 2-4 years of experience. Say what Willis? You mean that a 24-26 year old has the desired amount of experience you're looking for and that long-ass skill set? What Wonderland are you living in Alice?

I hear my words coming out of me, and I'm starting to sound like some of the job candidates Abby used to come home and tell me about. They were Negative Nelly's; always griping about not finding a job, blah blah blah. But the people Abby talked about were mostly sitting on their asses and just firing off resumes. I've been trying to network, use my LinkedIn, redo my website; do the things Abby talked about and preached when she was a recruiter. I know in my heart I will find something, whether full-time/freelance/contract/table dancing. It's just the Great Unknown, and the hardest part is that I already have the Great Unknown going on in my life, losing my wife and best friend and not knowing where and how the future will unfold because right now life feels like a crumpled wad of 8 1/2 x 11 paper that hit the rim of the waste basket and is now just there waiting to be tossed. And add to the Great Unknown is the job Great Unknown, and that's just a lot of not knowing.

*********************

I was able to getaway two weekends ago. My friends Jay and Marci graciously paid my way for a visit to see them in North Carolina. It was the first time I'd flown in about 10 years I think.

I know- hard to believe I've missed out on the luxury of plane travel these last years, (facetiousness intended) . So all the airport fun that many of you routinely deal with and that I'd heard so much good about, well I finally got to experience. Including delayed flight, being forced to check our carry on bags due to packed plane and the fact that some people were going to have to scramble like squirrels and run amok and over chairs and up trees to catch their connecting flights. A glass of water, a minuscule bag of pretzels, and thou. No electronic ports. No entertainment except for the 300 fun glum people on board with me.

Now I realize that it was a short flight and horribleness is all the rage these days and de rigueur for flying. And I was prepared for all it, I must say. Magazines, crossword puzzles, phone/headphones/music/War and Peace (and I made a sandwich too). So yes, it was fine, at least as fine can be used as a descriptor. But the weekend was great; I got to relax, was wined and dined, had a personal trainer beat the crap out of me thanks to Jay (I actually thought I was on vacation up until then). Got to play with surrogate dogs. Went to a Charlotte Hornets' game- 12 rows up/center court/not too shabby. And I had a visit from Abby. Actually two visits. Did you think I was just going to bore you with my fun activities? OK, well yes maybe... but I do believe Abby came to me during the night, each time after an intense dream. When I awoke Friday night (or was awoken?) after a fairly realistic dream, I felt like someone dumped a bucket of cold air on me. Now I know that's not really physically possible except in a cartoon I suppose, but that's what it felt like. I thought maybe a window was open, or the AC had come on (the heat was on actually, and the vents are low). This was like in the movie "The Sixth Sense", though I didn't see my breathe or Bruce Willis. But I was actually shivering, and had to get up to put on a sweatshirt, and it takes a lot to make me that cold. It was so weird and different than anything I've ever experienced before, just a rush of cold air being poured onto my body. On Saturday night, I was more mentally prepared, but wasn't sure if I really wanted to experience it again. I actually wore a sweatshirt to bed this time. Sure enough, I had another intense dream, woke, and was hit with a blast of cold air. This time, I tried to embrace it, talked to Abby aloud (no, she didn't answer). I think it was just her way of showing me that she was still with me, even far away from home. Not sure- who really knows? I just know what I experienced and it wasn't creepy, though that first night I was slightly weirded out, if I'm to be honest. I actually was away about a month at my friend's Rob and Sean's house on the Cape. Also was greatly taken care of, and was such a great relaxing time that did me a wide world of good. But no visits from Abby that I know of. Maybe she's a selective traveler and she appreciated the fact that NC was warmer, with her being a Maryland crab-cake kinda girl at heart. And on the Cape, she really only liked to go to Ptown, so maybe I'll need to plan a visit there.

My life right now still feels like I'm walking through (or stuck in) an episode of the Twilight Zone. I don't really know where it's going, how it's going to end up, how weird it will get, how hot, how cold, how alien, how ironic, or how scary. I'm trying so hard to embrace it and roll with it and smile as I climb the hill for the umpteenth time, or get flattened again as the rock rolls back down the hill over me. Like an animated character, I peel my flat self off the ground, magically pop back to 3D life, dust the rubble off, and try it again. But every time you do it, a few sticks and stones get embedded in you, like playdoh, when you reuse it over and over again and little things get stuck in it, or maybe other colors, and then some crusty pieces get in there, and you finally have this unwieldy blob that no longer looks like the thing you started with. And then what? Damned if I know.

My kids and my friends and family are still my lifeline. I've learned I can still laugh, have a good time, and go several days without crying or feeling sad or wanting to go all "Harold and Maude" on myself. Maybe I just need to re-watch that weird gem-of-a-movie, which I originally saw at the old Orson Welles Cinema in Cambridge. But alas, you can't go back as they say. Ben's girlfriend, Dani, got a new book to use in her classroom with her students, where you pick a random number, then it correlates to a question. Mine was something to the effect of "If you could have the power to do anything, what would it be?" I said "Time Travel". Well, I guess I took it to mean, "Super Hero Power" (too many Marvel and DC movies I suppose), but it was more about having the real power of change. I'm still not sure exactly what the question meant- could I have the power to change what just happened to Abby, or would that create some bizarro "Pet Semetary" scenario? The best I guess I can hope for, is that she keeps visiting and talking and is present in my life. I know she will always be with me, no matter what. It's small solace but it's my solace and our solace together. So hands off my solace, world. Not a bad name for a band actually, "Hands off My Solace". HOMS baby.