Do you ever wake up dead? Because I do, every now and again
I wake up dead as dead can be
Deader’n a doornail, whatever that means
Wake up lying/laying (I never remember which) on my bed
Or couch or floor or guest bed
Or bathroom rug
Once on the back porch, but that was only cos the night before was really nice and I was sitting there til I zonked
So yeah it happens
In that pre-dawn quiet, somewhere around five thirty, usually
They’re still asleep, and Kelly the dog is off on her blanket in the corner
And when I wake up I have nothing
I can’t think I can’t feel I can’t do I can’t be
I lay there lie there (whichever!) and this lasts for a bit
I’m not sure how long but a while
Until who I am returns
In a flash. I go from nothing to … something
And I’m okay with it, most of it I would change in a minute, the rest I wouldn’t in a million years but all in all, I’m okay with it
(You can’t really expect too much, you know, you get what you get)
But there is a slight disappointment, I’m not gonna deny the slight disappointment
“Oh, this is me, I am this”
“My life is such and such”
“I tried to get this but I couldn’t”
“I tried to be this but I’m not”
So on and so forth until it’s time to go turn on the coffee
Then I stand at the coffee, waiting, and thinking as little as possible
I don’t like them, the thoughts I have at the coffee. They’re not good thoughts haha
By six, I’ve had a cup at least, and to the extent I have wits, I have them about me
And then they’re awake and everything gets loud and weird and it’s chaos for the next couple hours
But yeah this happens every now and again, a few times a week
It was worse when I was drinking
I would wake up with the not-so-lingering sense of dread
I didn’t know who I was, but I knew that whoever I was, there’d be bad news haha
That sneaking suspicion that ‘Oh shit I did something bad last night’
And soon after, it would be suspicions confirmed
Like when I’d look at the recycling tub and see all the empties
Or check emails and see all the order confirmations that I can’t remember
(Socks, slippers, reading glasses)
I’d wonder what was going through my head when I --
(Records, notebooks, pajamas)
Yeah I’d hafta figure out what I could return and what I was stuck with and it would --
(Shoes, overshirts, the occasional turtleneck even though I never wear ‘em cos they make me look like Mort from Bazooka Joe)
Anyway
But I’m not that way anymore so who cares what’m I wasting time talking bout it for
This morning I woke up sitting up
In my pajamas of course but I even had my slippers on
On the side of the bed, facing the alarm clock and window
My jaw was clenched I was grinding my teeth
I was dreaming of an amusement park, and college, and London
(All three were one, somehow)
I had lost my son in a tube station, on the last day of the vacation
We were heading out to Heathrow and I had messed up the trip somehow and we were scrambling through a station and he was there then he wasn’t
One of the big tube stations with a buncha different lines and platforms
Like Waterloo or King’s Cross
I didn’t know how to find him, and no one would help me
All the workers and other passengers couldn’t understand me
The panic in my dream was ‘What would I do for the rest of my life without him’
Because in the dream, I had lost him but he was with friends so I figured he’d be fine
They’d take care of him
In some ways, he’d be better off
He’d be in London for God’s sake, and one of the dream-friends was very wealthy, they live in Kensington, in one of those row houses with five floors
It’d be like living in Paddington’s house
So yeah he’d be fine
(And if I lost her in the dream, she’d find someone new/better before the dream was even over, haha, I’d witness it, haha)
But I was so scared, in the dream
I couldn’t imagine from that point forward
A former student came up to me and she was very successful and borderline famous
(As famous as a TV writer can be in London, which is semi-)
She offered to help and she went off because she spoke the language
I stood there panicked about what was next
It’s like I knew
She came back soon after, told me she’d found him, but that he didn’t want to return
He wanted to stay gone
That’s when I woke up
And I woke up dead
Not bad dead not good dead not I wish I was dead not thank God I’m not dead just dead
Even though I’m alive and I know it
She’s laying there lying there (WHICHEVER) on the far side of the bed
I can hear him breathing in the other room
He’s twelve, just turned twelve, and is beginning to snore
Which is different than her snore - a lady-snore haha - and different than my snore - a drunk old guy snore even though I no longer drink haha the snore remains the same haha
It’s his snore
Slowly things return and I remember
I find my robe (under the dresser somehow??)
I wander over to the coffee
And while I wait for it, there’s the thoughts, as if on cue
I tell myself this predates the drinking so I can’t blame this on that
By this I mean the waking up goofy
I’ve been this way since forever, since as long as I can remember, but it’s a good thing I quit the booze, that’s for sure
Because while you never actually get rid of all the shit in your brain, there’s something to be said for not adding to the shit, or not making the shit worse
You’ll still be you, you can always only ever be you, so you better make the best of it, right?
Right
some gems:
until who I am returns
Mort/Bazooka Joe evocation
invention of the what'm contraction
you, even so
Right you are, Mort.