Sleeping incredible hours: a week lost to dreams – maybe not lost, the dreams aren't unpleasant, there is plenty of food, and the house is kept clean, as am I. But a week where my life is passing in a dream world... a week where I am basically absent....
There have been times when I was guilty, confused, over this kind of situation – it is perhaps an unfortunate aspect of my life that much of it has been slept away. I'm not so guilty about it any more, but it remains true; and it's not just a matter of ill health, it is very much a deep pattern of my mind and body – which is why I have imagination, but don't get much done.
And today I received an e-mail from someone about a book I was supposed to write a decade ago, which may change shape or be taken out of my hands – I had a flash of guilt/worry (as I had months of, over the anthology that didn't happen five years ago), but mostly just relief that it might no longer be my problem. But it is all merely a matter for rational decision, not guilt/panic... at least I'm finally clear that, as I sometimes tell a student in trouble, I am more important than the project, rather than the reverse.
But mostly: sleeping, sleeping, sleeping. Easy when you live alone, and the sun's on winter holiday.
There are, however, unusual presences just as there are unusual absences: 'tis the time of year for people on the other side of the world to think of their memories, relationships, old friends – and since most of my life is still elsewhere (hmm – San Francisco and Los Angeles and Washington of course, but also Phoenix, Berlin, New York – I think that's probably all of it now), those same people call me or send me cards and e-mails.
In most cases my reaction is happy and wistful; I'd love to see so-and-so again, I'd love to have dinner with, talk to, hang out with. In some cases, I deeply wish I were spending my life around that person again. There are also a couple of uncomfortable bits – an old friend I simply cannot relate to any more (some people do outgrow each other, and become impossible strangers), and another whom I care about a lot but who is now in a peculiar relationship (and I want to be there and watch, and listen, and talk, and see if it all works out).
The hard part is the wish to be somewhere else. That's the problem, the mistake, of moving too much: it is possible to move away from your life....
Comments