Monday, May 20, 2013
I keep thinking of Men in Black II, and of the goddess that creates rain any time she is sad, and how the rain over the last few days reflects the rain inside, as if one could not exist without the other.
We brought in another cat only to have one of the other cats take offense at it, and so increase tension.
Sick last night and up for a cup of tea, I picked up the phone to hear my daughter’s voice – she reaching out because she needed someone she could trust to talk to, like me caught up in that social nightmare of being uncomfortable in a world of aggression, and needing some ally against the dark forces overwhelming her where she lives.
She and I have always been the best of friends, the people we could trust most, and feel most comfortable around, and the most stouthearted, because we are both so similar.
I couldn’t really help her except to listen, which is almost all anyone can do, but listening to her aided me in some fashion though I went straight to bed for another ten hours of sleep I desperately needed, my dreams less dark than her world is or even the waking world in which I wander normally, but troubled dreams none the less, full of anguished voices one of which was my own.
Waking to rain the prospect of work, I am still ill, and still hear those voices crying out.