Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Went to bed with a whopping headache last night, after one godawful day and a heckuva Tu B'Shevat seder. I ruined what was supposed to be marzipan and it is currently a slightly gooey, hockey-puck-consistency mass on my counter - it was supposed to be a stuffing for dates. Just to give you a hint at what might have triggered my headache, there was some discussion at the table of how creative the rabbis were at weaving through the Jewish calendar such novel ways of religiously sanctioning the act of getting hammered. I wouldn't have done it in the first place, however, if it hadn't been such a spectacularly bad day.

I had Dan drag my headache-ridden self back to the house and up to bed. It was then that I had a dream.

I wouldn't have remembered it at all if it hadn't been for my seeing this tidbit of news in da paper this morning (gee, if our political process hasn't had the trappings of a three-ring circus before, it certainly does now. This is what comes of moving all the primaries to earlier in the calendar year...). Suddenly, I was back in line. Or I was trying to find a way to get in line, an entrance I could use. The place was a maze. I kept trying to help all sorts of people along the way, but I also had to get to safety. I had a family to think about. My ID was in order, and we were in.

Things were much more in order this time around. The folks in San Diego had nothing on us Dome-goers seeking shelter from the upcoming storm. We were wind-proof and flood-proof. We had entertainments galore. I could hear music through the sociable chatter and the undercurrent of fear. Our seats were facing away from the city and in towards the middle, but it was tough to see anything, really. All I really knew was that I had an in. I had gained the privilege of being able to sit and wait out any disaster, any catastrophe, in comfortable surroundings with supposedly like-minded people. It was making me uncomfortable. For my son, it proved to be doubly so, because he had made his way back outside, and I had to, too, in part to find him.

I made my way out and propped open the door behind me in what I thought was a subtle manner, so that nobody else would go rushing in after I'd left. I found the little guy pretty quickly, as he hadn't gone far, but I couldn't find the way back in. The rain was coming down, but not as heavily as I'd thought it would be coming. There were still many people on the side walks, in various states of distress, denial, or what-have-you. All I knew was I had to get my son to safety.

We went into an underground mall, which I thought would be connected to the Dome for certain. I passed up many, many people, and loads of stores and storefronts. Everyone underground seemed to be going about their business....no emergencies here. Nobody was worried. I got very close, to the middle of some clothing store that had at one time had a hatch into the Dome from beneath its floors - there was even a headline pasted up somewhere from an old newspaper that showed our illustrious oaf of a prez visiting the hatch for a photo op. I went in and out of other underground stores that bordered on the Dome, but came up with nothing in the way of an entrance. It was raining outside, but there were no strong winds, no collections of water that would lead to flooding. I got my son back home and took some time to look into this further.

I instead became entangled in other people's lives underground. An ingenue past her prime who was obsessed with her legacy. Barroom denizens, restaurant frequenters, artists offering parts with which to make your own art, families, maintenance workers. It was then that I realized...it was sunny out. I was tired of being afraid. Somebody had given me and many, many others too much reason to panic when there was nothing, nothing at all. "What about that hatch in the dress shop?" somebody asked me. "Does it still go to the Dome?"

I didn't know, and honestly, I didn't care anymore. "Somebody welded it shut a while back," I said, knowing it might not be true, but it felt true. I didn't care about my "in" any longer. I just wanted to live.

Advice to those wanting to continue living that is most likely gonna be wasted (heh) at this time of year: Stay away from the cheap champagne. And if you aren't gonna stay away, at least advise the younger generation to do so.


D-BB said...

"Went to bed with a whopping headache last night".

That's as far as I got. How many times have I heard that one????????????

Leigh C. said...

Too, too many times, I'd imagine. Even the best of the best get that from time to time, I'm sure, just 'cause the loved one needs a break! ;-)