The Christmas Blahs and other miscellaneous wanking

 

I had a dream with Lesa in it, but I just know I'm gonna forget whatever details there were on accounta I just woke up and went to start a new post and, wouldn'tcha know, I closed the browser window. This caused me to have to log back in, wasting untold minutes and also upsetting my mental state which is always just barely able to recall dreams after awakening. So now all I'll have is a couple of major details, and the rest will be lost to frustration.

So...I was in a little pond area near some apartments where I was staying, I guess. And I was fishing for the small bass that inhabited the pond, with some success. I'd hooked one and was attempting to show my cat, I guess, how to properly hook a fish. I began to realize that this pond was really tiny and decided to call it quits. 

I went up to the apartment, and, lo and behold, there was Lesa in the shower. I spied her outline behind the shower curtain, clothed (unfortunately). She was wearing some slinky little shorts and a bikini top at least, so, not all that disappointing. But mostly, I felt that leap in my heart of recognition that this was her. I'd found her.

I began to talk to her about who knows what, and we started catching up on whatever plans we had for the day. Unfortunately, that was about it for us in the dream. 

I next found myself outside of a building which was owned by Bill. William O. Helton, to be precise, my dead Uncle Bill. He wasn't present, but I had the sense of him being involved with this building, somehow. 

I picked up an aerosol can from off of a ledge on the outside of the building. I guess I intended to spray the inside of the swamp cooler on the roof to lube it, or some such beneficial action. The result, was not as intended. The can contained starter fluid, and that's just what it did. It started a fire the instant I sprayed it into the inlet. 

I grabbed a garden hose and fed it in to try and quench the flames. I only partially succeeded, though, and I could see that the core of the fire was unreachable with the hose and still glowing. I surveyed the apparent damage to the outside and it looked like the swamp cooler had been gutted by this fire. The paint was peeling and soot was coming out of the vents. This was the point at which I awoke. 

Now I'm awake on Christmas and only slightly disappointed with myself. In real life, here I sit, alone on a couch. I could go on and on about the loneliness I've been battling lately. 

But if I do that, I will have to be honest about the amount of attention I have actually been receiving from my friends, both living and departed. My LED isn't on at the moment, but it did come on recently in conjunction with some talks I was having with my psychic friend, Jeannette. So, that's two people in my life interacting with me and giving me reason to not feel lonely. 

Then, as if on rotating shifts, Lesa begins messaging me again in earnest, saying the things I longed to hear from her. Her dreams and hopes and emotions about us being together. Like there may be still a chance. 

I've had to muster all my restraint recently to just be patient, as it seemed she was growing distant, along with any hopes I'd had. Then a sudden flurry of messages brought me back from the brink of losing faith. Of course, I only stay sustained for a day or so before my insecurities and doubts start eroding the hope that is barely germinating.

I am experiencing a health crisis, and my sense of it is that I will either get past it or it will kill me in a relatively short time. It appears to be in my stomach, like an ulcer. But it also seems to be affecting my other organs, some of whose locations and functions I'm kind of fuzzy about. Gallbladder, pancreas, liver, kidneys, right lung, diaphragm, rib cage. It's all up for grabs. 

I went to the doctor for blood work. Fine again, as usual. I'm still waiting on the results of my H. Pylori test, but I may not find out til after the holidays. Ultrasound still scheduled for the 30th. Until then I'm dealing with a pain under my right rib cage that won't go away, but lessens somewhat depending on what I'm doing or after I've eaten. 

That's what makes me think it's a stomach ulcer, but perhaps in an advanced stage which has involved these other organs. Which makes me think of cancer or some other thing which will take me out in short order.

Thoughts, however, are not reality. I mean, they could be, but at this point it is all conjecture. The facts are what they are, and not all of everything is bad. Just my fluctuating gut pain and my increasingly decaying dental situation. That's a whole other area of "I don't wanna deal with it" that makes me put a chalk mark in the column of "why not just die." 

I have three invitations to Christmas dinner, but I may decline them on the basis of just not feeling up to it. My gut will tell me, I suppose when the time comes. For now, I wish I could get back to sleep, but I suppose it is too late in the morning to hope for that. And yet too cold for me to get up and get my day going.

Blah. Christmas. Blah. I am manufacturing my exterior positivity for those who I may or may not interact with on the internet, but I'm not feeling very spirited about it. Just dutifully not being a craphead. I'll try to be gracious and make people feel good, because that's what I'd want for myself. Someone to tell me nice things about myself and be thoughtful and considerate.

So, I missed a video call from my dad. It only rang once, and when I got there to answer, the message was that I was invited to a group chat, which my browser doesn't support. I was cooking breakfast at the time, and when I finished and got around to trying to call back, the party I was trying to reach was unreachable. 

So, ping and pong, Dad. That's probably what was hoped for anyway, I don't know. I wasn't expecting a warm fuzzy Christmas call really. We haven't had that kind of relationship since, well, you know, ever. And I don't suppose it is any more comfortable for him to reach out as it is for me. So, I  guess we can both say, "I tried, but you weren't there" and thereby ease our social responsibility consciences.

What if I just want to not be socially responsible for the moment? If I have to suffer the holidays alone, why do I have to pretend to be positive for people? Can't I just enjoy the perks of being not beholden to anyone, since no one is beating down my door to make me feel less lonely? I mean my literal door. 

If I count the internet, sure, I have friends, a favorite girl even, who tells me she loves me. But here I sit alone on Christmas, regardless, so pardon me if I don't have the joy joy joy joy down in my heart. I mean, it could be down there. Way down, locked up, bound and gagged, and it's not getting out any time soon.