dreams: October 18, 1998
I don't make my important phonecall to God
Everyone is supposed to "call God" right now. I'm at a commune/campus/home. Kathie Olsen is here. There's a house, as well as a big green lawn. Today is the special day of the week to make the call. I see others on the phones. Noli is here. So is Ben Waterman, and John. They're all doing it separately. I sit down at a desk and see photos of Miles, Noli and others on a green lawn (playing croquet?). I see a red phone. I imagine what it would be like to call God. I probably wouldn't be able to hear anything back; I would just talk and express what I wanted to say, trusting that I'd be heard. Like prayer. Now is the time. I'm eating whipped cream out of a big bowl, sitting near Kathie. For some reason I don't call God. All the phones are busy, or I can figure I'll do it later, or some other excuse. The time passes, and now I'm grocery shopping with Mom. I feel gripped with desperation. I KNOW I should have called God. Now my life feels awful, all probably as a result of the fact that I didn't do it. We're in Safeway. Mom is buying eggs; I'm upset because they aren't from free-range chickens, and they're full of gross chemicals. I feel like it's too late -- now I can't say anything. We're standing at a deli case. She's getting deli meat and packaged, cut "vebetables." I can't stand the choices. I know it's now what I want, but I still feel silenced, like I can't say anything. It's no use. I've given up. Then I'm lying on a bed. I'm wearing jeans, lying on my back. I'm numbly upset, desperate, totally giving up. I'm telling Mom. She's in the room, on my left. I'm explaining that it's all because I didn't make that important phonecall to God. Now I'm left feeling hopeless and dead in my own skin. I feel like I'm gripping onto my own misery. I can't let go of it, so I just give up, relinquishing my own power of choice in order to let myself sink further into the muck. Phoebe's on the bed, at the foot of it. There are no sheets, only a funky white mattress pad. The corner has come undone. Mom is trying to fix it, to stretch it back on; yet Phoebe won't get off, even when Mom asks.
- FIN -
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