goldmourn (amberdawnpullin) wrote,

childhood houses

Sunday, August 2nd, 2020.
Writing in the 'One Line a Day' notebook, I notice how the previous day is forgotten (blurred into the next) and I check the money notebook where I track all expenses and it is the closest thing I have to kinda knowing what happened that day.

I'm sure I'd know more of what happened if I would make little notes throughout the 24 hours but I haven't been doing that. The closest I got was today, when I reminded myself over and over that in one of the nightmare dreams I had today, the old desk I used to own that belonged to my Dad that was made by his grandfather, that very desk my dad said he would fix up and return to me when I handed it over for a refresh touch up after all these years of me having it from the age of 17 (first living on my own) to the time he stopped by at the apartment in St. Thomas in 2017 before my return to Toronto - it was after that dream that I knew I'd likely never see the desk again. I don't even know if I will see my Dad, either.

But in that dream, the desk was there and duplicated (I'm a twinless twin, does that mean something?) and the house was gutted to the bare timber load bearing walls - a dream only, of course - of the house that was sold last year and in this same span of 12 months, the house across the street that belonged to the neighbours I knew in childhood, their across the street other world, their home sold now after the death of the second parent, me knowing this because of a Facebook post.

They remember their home as a loving place full of memories and I don't have that for the house I lived in but I can remember a vivid dream where I ran away across to them to ask if I could live there or be safe there and another where I ran through the front door and straight to the back - through the house like a ghost - and one could wonder if it was an out of body experience like what I did as a kid, floating above the bunk bed to the ceiling - but it's sad, yes, and I remember the parents of the kids across the street that would have nothing to do with me, sitting on their porch with the police scanner on and how back then one of the large city buses would turn at the corner from Balaclava Street onto the one where I lived.

Looking at how much smaller those streets seem now, even widened years ago for traffic and the sidewalks improved for the kids that would walk to school, I can't imagine how those large buses used to turn around those corners and go along those city blocks. I want to say, "sorry for your loss" but I left no comment on her heartwrenching post because what could I say when I remembered the little girl that was me across the street, beaten by a step-mother, living in poverty, surrounded by come and go people and so alone, peering out my window up at the windows that were on their second floor and wondering how it was for the brother and sister that seemed to have a more normal life than me, though I also thought other things as well.

All I know is that in the time I grew up there, I can't remember visiting, save for the conversations I would have from the sidewalk with the parents who sat on the porch. There was a cat on a leash that was there too and I thought about how that cat was kept more safe than me.

11:23pm I'm forty-two years old.

I get it now, how a person can feel younger than they are inside, while the body does it's aging thing or the years have worn parts down. I understand more now of how the mind plays, back and forth in time from past to present. If you're a vivid dreamer with nightmares, the years and memories web out across the mind and through the memory of body, scars, time periods - is it any wonder it can be so difficult to be present? To live in the Now? What is Now? What is it Now? In this time period? A pandemic. An anniversary of a birth grandmother's death. A continuance of a circumstance where one wonders if it will ever change or if it should, while briefly remembering thinking that way as a child - that something would never change that eventually would - and how does this work? Until my brain no longer functions, the blips and blurs, detoriations and distractions becoming so overwhelming that the concept of Time is finally cast aside, given up on?

Will I be present then or gone?
Tags: dreams & nightmares

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