Corn Woman

 

I was dreaming that I was in a grocery store checkout and I saw someone who looked familiar. It was one of those faces that you kind of recognize but aren't sure because it's been like 30 years or more. It was a woman I'd worked with in LA at Hondo Die Supply named Jeannie Nelson, aka Corn Woman. 

I saw her getting her groceries, and she left before I could say hello. I rushed out of the store and flagged her down just as she was starting to pull away.

"Jeannie, is that you? Corn Woman?" I shouted after her. She stopped the car and opened the door so I could get in. "I thought I recognized you, but I wasn't quite sure," I told her.

"I knew it was you, too," she told me, "but I didn't want to say anything, in case I was wrong."

She presented me with a McDonald's straw wrapper to commemorate our reunion. I was going to attempt to tie it around her finger, but she just laughed. I felt very close to her for some reason and attempted to lay my head on her chest. 

She wasn't altogether unreceptive, but I somehow got that it was less than appropriate, so I withdrew. We smiled at each other and made some kind of plans for keeping in touch, possibly a barbecue or some other family event.

The dubious moniker "Corn Woman" was given to her by my friend Eric Murry after I had described this woman's gruff demeanor to him with a story which included the following dialogue:

Me: "I'm hungry, I could eat anything."
Jeannie: "Could you eat the corn out of shit?"
Me:


There was more to the dream, leading up to the grocery store, but I'm having a tough time unwinding the thread that got me to that point. Something to do with another female and a shared living situation, but it's just not coming to me. 

Meanwhile, in the hear and now, I'm in a bit of physical pain, possibly my gallbladder or some other unruly internal organ in my right upper abdominal area. It's really putting a damper on my newfound positivity and ability to live my best and happiest life. All my same previous distrust and distaste for doctors and medical procedures still apply, but I'd like to not suffer or die just yet. Not when things are in such a hopeful place with Lesa.

Oh, what to do? If I start getting in any more pain, I'll be forced to go to the urgent care and get myself looked over. Tests and more tests. Possible outcomes and procedures or diagnosis that I don't relish giving myself over to. If I just let it play out, it may get worse. I may die unnecessarily. 

I've got to do something. It's really getting in the way of my living what's left of my life. The things I could enumerate on the subject are too plentiful to know where to even begin, but the point is, I'm living again. I have friends, a love interest, and things are looking positive for a change. And now, this little stab from life, as if to say, "Don't get too comfortable."