February 22, 2008

• Plane Crashes and Prisons

  On wednesday morning I woke from a dream in which I'd been in a plane crash. The front half of the fuselage had split off, leaving the rest of us strapped in and falling towards our doom. Time seemed to slow itself; I remember knowing the names of a few of the passengers who had been suddenly flung through the ragged opening, and I specifically recall feeling empathy towards one couple -still strapped to their seats- who were staring horrified at the empty spot where a friend of theirs had been torn from the plane.  I even had the time and wherewithal to notice the colors of the clouds as we  plummeted past, to say some prayers in french, and to wonder how long it would take until we smashed into the ground. Where would we crash? Would it hurt? Why us?

  As it turned out, we didn't actually crash. Somehow the dilapidated remnants of our craft glided back to earth unharmed - perhaps due to the fervency of my french prayers? At any rate, it all seemed a miracle. I contemplated the odds of living versus dying, and then woke up. I lay in bed for a while thinking about it.

  Just in case, I checked the news. Since it was one of those dreams, and that kind of thing has happened to me before. No french speaking people falling out of the sky in a fiery disaster to be found, thank god. I did catch the live video of the space shuttle landing, which had me on edge for a little while. But even that went off without a hitch. Phew!

  So I decided to cheer the fuck up, since nobody was dying that day. Made a pot of tea. Sat sipping it in the morning sunshine. A little later, I heard the mail slide through the slot. Usually I ignore the mail for a bit, because if it's not beads, it's bills, and I haven't ordered beads in a while. But this sounded heavy. Not that it was anything large.... just.... significant.

  But first, let me fill you in on some recent drama: the ex-convict-ex boyfriend has been giving me trouble. There had been some bru-ha-ha over the possibility or impossibility of a friendship between us since his release, I was attempting to be kind to him, but his efforts to ingratiate himself back into my life were becoming obsessive and violent. Nevermind that he'd started dating somebody else (with my blessing- hey, whatever got him off my case!) and had no business bothering me anymore. But for years this guy had been doing me some serious mental harm, it was like a tacky white-trash abusive habit, and all I wanted was to recover and move on. Most of all, I wanted everybody to just be happy. Matt, however, was freaking out a little bit about the situation, and there had been some tears and some arguing, and I felt like absolute shit because it was all rapidly deteriorating and it seemed like I'd never find any goddamned peace with the whole fricking scenario. But the ex refused to let me go.

  Back to the mail slot- I immediately recognized the prison stationery and ECEB's googly handwriting. Turns out, he violated some terms of his probation or something and his mother (great gal- yeesh) had tipped off the police as to his whereabouts. Shacking up with the new thingathing and her little kid, as it were. Anyways, he was considerate enough to write and tell me I was off the hook as far as he was concerned, since he was going to be locked up for some time and he'd recently figured out he was really in love with his new girlfriend. Poor thing, I feel really sorry for her.

  But YAH-FUCKING-HOO, that asshole is finally out of my hair!!!

  I laughed my ass off at first, and then the significance finally hit me- I was free. For the first time in nearly four years, I was absolutely free of his concern. The curse was broken. Best of all, everybody involved had found a way to move on and find some peace, even after all the terrible things that had happened. That felt really good. And then, like water, all the sadness and worry started just melting right off me, years and years of it, and I must have cried for about an hour.

  So then I was thinking about my dream, it having been one of those dreams, and I realized I'd initially made the mistake of assuming it was literally prophetic. I think it was in fact a forecast- although not about my [french] prayers finally be answered- but more like some kind of cosmic reassurance that even in the face of a terrible disaster, things will unfold just as they should. Some crash landings are softer than others, I guess. I can't even begin to say how blessed I feel.

  • 12:17 am
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