Thursday, January 10, 2013
To dream the impossible dream, and then - wake up
Roses, in January. It ain't right.
One of my friends (who is 61) told me it's a sign of my emotional maturity that I was able to wake up from my impossible dream of the glamorous and lonely 60th birthday in Paris. I admit I still want to go. It's crazy, but ... oh well.
Today I woke up from another impossible dream. I ran into a neighbor of about my age, out walking her dog. She went on and on about how much she loves her dog and oh my that dog was so sweet. He did that thing of leaning into my leg while I scratched behind his ears. It is such a sweet feeling when dogs do that. When I tried to stop, the dog (whose name is Sandy), howled briefly, leaned harder into my leg. Could I resist that? No, I could not.
Initially I decided it was A Sign that I should get a dog, that a dog - yes - a DOG would in some way distract me from the immanent arrival of my 60th birthday. I parted company with the neighbor and her dog after a prolonged chat, thinking I should start looking for a dog ASAP. Two blocks further into my walk, I ran into another neighbor who preceded to tell me the Very Long Version of her latest vet story, how they wanted to do some special kind of suture on a wound her dog had sustained in the midst of a dog fight at Lincoln Park. She laid out the details of how much it cost her in the aftermath, mentioning almost in passing the trauma of having to break up a horrendous dog fight.
Of course after that I remembered why I actually do not want another pet. Good lord.
I'm so vulnerable right now. I know Brene Brown thinks it's the best thing in the world, but it doesn't work so well for me. When I'm all open hearted and easily wounded as I am at the moment, I can almost talk myself into the craziest courses of action. Almost is the key word.
When I wake up from these impossible dreams, the sense of relief I feel is rather thrilling. Right now is an inauspicious time to decide to do anything dramatic. And yet, I yearn to do just that. I really do.
It's a crazy time, but I'm making my way through it, almost doing crazy shit, almost.
Shalom, y'all, from strange, unnerving and pleasant, summery Washington DC.
Looks like it's wearing a bow tie.