How do I tell if this panic is abject?

Published February 22, 2016 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

The weirdness of my conscious brain is only out crazied by my unconscious brain. (Suspend, for a moment, my general understanding that my post-coma brain still can’t determine whether or not I’m in an agreed upon reality or perhaps dead and am I trying to get myself out of purgatory.

When I’m asleep, my brain decides to go all “Eye of the Tiger” and find some weird crap to haunt my waking hours.

The other night I dreamed that my dearly departed friend Steve handed me a fish to give to Anderson Cooper.  We were at a party in a house that often appears in my dreams. The house is an amalgam of I house I lived in when I was first married and of the house I grew up in, spliced together with a house owned by my Aguilar relatives for many years, and the large front room of Steve’s house.

We were hosting a party and for some reason their were many fish, some cooked, some in a display and some just hanging around in a tub full of ice. Steve handed me a fish (raw with head) to take to Anderson Cooper who was upstairs milling around in the parlor.

I have no idea where that came from and as I pondered this I discovered that Harper Lee had passed away.

Now Steve and I often likened our friendship to that of Harper (Nell) Lee and Truman Capote.

It would not at all surprise me if these three got together and gave my brains a gentle poke to influence my dream. I think Faulkner had a hand in that as a fish played a large part in my favorite work of his. In it the fish symbolized death.

While that is, indeed, weird I had an even stranger dream. In this one, my Amanda Friend’s husband, AOG had entrusted me to take care of his 32 foot black python.  (You may be thinking, “Freud much?” But you wouldn’t if you knew him.) Now for some reason I was in the front room of the aforementioned house and I was watching cats gambol about in the backyard. (The backyard was Steve’s)  I got so distracted by the cats that I completely forgot about the python. For days. The python did not starve to death, but did die of thirst and when AOG showed up, I had to find the dried python husk, and for some reason I thought that pouring water on it would help.  AOG was very nice about it but clearly I was at fault.

I woke up with an intense feeling of panic.

Then I read about how well Trump did in the latest caucus. I’m not trying to be funny.   I then went and told my roommate that I would get the vodka if he would find some chocolate cheesecake because apparently the end is nigh.

My parochial education tells me that no one knows the time and place of the second coming. I just want enough of a heads up to sip some Grey Goose Orange and have a rich dessert.

I somehow think too much fat and sugar is going to be the least of our concerns in the very near future.

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