Walmart shopping for Sharon (and Dave)

 

In the world of people getting together, someone is always getting shafted while another person trades up, turning in their old lease for a shiny new model. Dave was Sharon's ex-boyfriend, and at one point, I was the new beau, while he was the poor old schmuck who was trying to get back with her. Last night, I dreamed I was in Dave's shoes, and I found myself running around doing errands, trying to win back her affections, while it was apparent that she had moved on and was now with him. 

In my dream, I was at Walmart, shopping for gifts and various sundries for Sharon during the worst time of the year, holiday gift giving season. Due to procrastination, those of us shopping this late in the game found the store shelves bereft of goods and the gift selection severely limited. And as usual, I had put zero thought into it until this very moment, where I found myself staring blankly at the picked over shelves.

I settled on some practical items: cleanser pads, skin care products and the like. I threw in some hosiery for good measure. I had also been tasked with getting some other items, but I kept forgetting what they were, and it would only occur to me after I left the store. I had to go back in multiple times, each time carrying with me the bags from the previous trip.

I finally got everything together, and I put it all into an unwrapped cardboard box. I was on track to make another underwhelming impression with my hastily garnered gifts. I rushed to Sharon's house, my old residence at 149 Sutter Rd in Paradise, where she was living with Dave and with her father, Bob.

Bob was trying to fix something when I arrived, so he was in a foul mood. Some piece of electronics had raised his ire, and he was doing his version of cursing, a kind of Mr Rogers/Ned Flanders "gosh darn heck" fiddle-dee-doo of epithets that wouldn't even show up on an Amish person's radar. If Amish people had radar. 

Dave was in the kitchen, and Sharon was in the living room, about to sing karaoke using my old mixer and speakers as a sound system. The mics were in terrible shape, and the speakers had a buzz from the crappy, unshielded patch cords that snaked around the room under couches and in areas of high foot traffic. 

"I have something for you," I announced, grabbing one of the mics. "Merry Christmas."

Sharon tore into the cardboard box like a hungry pitbull looking for a steak. What she found was more like a can of expired spinach, and her reaction was much like a dog's would have been at receiving an unopened can of vegetables. She looked at it quizzically, sniffed at it a couple of times, and then looked back at me with a blank expression.

The gift was so unremarkable that I can't remember what it was I gave her. Or perhaps, it was so mundane and terrible that I am blocking it out of my consciousness out of sheer embarrassment. But it was bad, and I was certain it was going to turn out to be yet another factor cementing her decision to stay with Dave.

I stepped outside and thought to perhaps run to the liquor store to procure some kind of remedial gift. I was cutting through some apartment buildings when it suddenly occurred to me to check my watch. It was 9:00 AM, and I was 2 hours late for work.

I contemplated the phone call I would have to make to Yuba City Honda explaining why I hadn't shown up. "I'm sick" wouldn't cut it. I hadn't practiced my sick voice, and there had been no preliminary preparation the day before. You have to plan those things a day in advance with a few well-timed sniffles or coughs.

"My car won't start" is another one that was off the table. I'm a mechanic, and a dead battery would only buy me a couple of minutes of lateness, and it certainly wouldn't explain why I'd waited until 9 to call in. I thought about telling them the truth, that I'd simply forgotten what day it was, but that didn't seem like the best plan either.

Fortunately, I woke up at this point, for once glad that my current reality doesn't include all the elements of embarrassment and disappointment that my dream had. It has its own, different failings and areas of lackluster performance, and I guess it's time I got out of bed and started facing up to them for the day.

April takes me to church

Yesterday, as I was driving to my dental appointment, I got a text from April. She just wanted to say "hi." She'd spotted me driving through Marysville, and she identified me as wearing a blue and white plaid shirt. This made me happy for a number of reasons. 

First, I will admit, I'd been thinking about her recently with some fondness and listless regret. If only things had been different, could be different. I really did/do like her. For all her troubles and struggles, she has a big heart and an amazing capacity for self-reflection. And she's never afraid to ask the hard questions of herself, sharing the most intimate details of her life in our support group meetings.  

As a facilitator for DBSA, I have been kicking myself for allowing personal feelings make me act in ways that, given her vulnerability, may have been inappropriate. I feel we had a connection and that it was genuine, however hormonally driven on my part. When we had our couple of days of flirting with the idea of a relationship, I was over the moon, but when it ended suddenly, and she quit the group, I was crushed. I felt like I'd set her back on her mental health journey, and I was having a hard time living with that.

She did make it back to the group, though, and my pangs of conscience started to ease. She was the same old April, struggling with her past and trying to navigate the mental landscape of her current condition. I still have feelings for her, and although I no longer have hopes or expectations for a relationship, I am rooting for her to find peace within herself. And it makes me happy that she is no longer blocking me on her phone and that she reached out, if for no other reason that to say "hi."

All that to say this: I had a brief dream of her last night. In the dream, I met her outside of a church. We were standing in the parking lot, and there was a partially stripped Model T parked in the pastor's parking spot. April was standing in the middle of the frame, and I was on the outside, separated from her by the metal chassis. 

I said hi to her and reiterated just how glad I was that she'd made it back to group. She responded with a nervous smile and thanked me. I really wanted to hug her, but I didn't want her to feel like I was reverting back to the same old puppy dog stuff I'd pulled in the past. I wanted her to think I'd matured and learned from my mistakes. I couldn't help myself, though, and I went in for the hug anyway.

She squirmed, and I knew instantly that I'd made a mistake. I tried to deflect by making small talk.

"Looks like we have a new pastor," I said. "I hope he's a good one."

She made a half-hearted reply and rushed into the church as it began to fill up. I followed at a slower pace, and as I walked through the doors, I saw the pastor standing on the front steps. He was muttering to himself, although not so quietly as to be unheard by me.

"Oh, great. I can't believe I am seeing another one of these goddamn things," he griped, referring to what, I don't know. The church? The congregation? 

I was not impressed, and I thought to tell April, but she'd already made it inside and found a seat. The place was filling up fast, and I was forced to take a seat in the back next to a fellow in a tweed suit who wasn't particularly thrilled to have me for a pew neighbor. I looked through the hymnal to distract myself and waited for the service to begin.

That's all folks. I woke up to my regularly scheduled boring Thursday of non-activity. I'm taking it easy because of all the health stuff that I've had going on. I have to eat mushy food for a couple of weeks while my gums heal around the implant post. After that, I will get my new tooth, and who knows, perhaps I will even find occasion to smile.

 

A man so odious

I dreamed Sharon and I were knee deep in the healthcare/public library system. In my dream, the two were a combined agency, and nurse/librarians pulled double duty as health care practitioners and custodians of literature. Sharon and I were sitting at a desk going over our annual review as required by law. Our librarian nurse was an attractive black lady in her 30s, although her face bore the fatigue of someone much older. 

"Do you know how much trouble you are, Mr. Golding?" she said.

I was unsure if she was aware that she'd spoken these words out loud. It was the kind of thing one might mutter to themselves and not generally how one would address a client.

"I beg your pardon?" I said.

"The way you carry yourself," she went on. "It's odious. Not just to me but to the entire staff. I don't think you are even aware of how it affects others."

My wife had told me just prior to our meeting that I probably needed a breath mint. She was always saying helpful things like that. I performed the familiar hand to mouth breath test and found no fault, so here we were at the meeting, and I was going to get a bad review. 

The lady stared over her thick black plastic framed glasses, and her dark eyes bore into my skull.

"You are sour, sir," she said. "Through and through. I'm afraid this isn't going to look good in your file."

When the meeting concluded, we decided to go for a hike in the Santa Monica mountains. There were some interesting restaurant destinations at the end of the winding canyon trails. It was a nice day, sunny with high clouds and a slight ocean breeze.

We walked along the ridgeline, past the houses in Topanga Canyon and off into the uncharted, unformed landscape that only gets unfurled when someone actually hikes there. We must not have been expected because it looked as though the camouflage netting had just been hastily thrown over the rocky ground, and seams were evident in the subterfuge. Normally, it is a barren wasteland, bereft of vegetation, all of the foliage and topography kept stashed away in a box until needed.

It became difficult to walk on the shifting and sliding fake ivy since it hadn't even been tacked down yet. I made a mental note to delay future trips to this area to give the powers in charge of constructing the physical world on demand time to get their shit together. It doesn't pay to show up to your own surprise party before the streamers are even up and no one has had a chance to set up the buffet.