Some days you wake up in a sweat, the chasing of Kafka just behind you, the sweat scattered across the sheets and the truth that your subconscious knows you so well, well enough to try to rob you of your hope inside of your dreams is a little too much to bear so early in the morning.

The nightmares-a constant and regular part of my life, for all of my life-aside, it occurs to me that I am a believer in things happening for a reason, and I'm someone that subscribes to the idea that little rituals and routines can help make sure that what you want and need won't be jinxed.

I know it's stupid.

I know I'm a grown-up and an engineer no less, but I still subscribe to fate, maybe because the engineer I have become needs the mystery that I have lost.

There are ways things are done for me. When I interview, I wear the same suit-a smart black sheath dress and a black jacket over it. I wear my favorite heels (which will soon need a new pair of heels to replace them, as these are getting up there in age). I wear my hair up, and my makeup minimal. I have learnt that my vintage jewelry with the rainbow gems in them grant me strength and confidence where I would otherwise have none-save for a few pieces I wear, I have now parcelled out my entire collection to those women who I know as strong, but who (like me) could maybe use a booster now and then. It's the jewelry-which I also wore when my project won that big award-that makes me feel like I can clinch something.

I know it's not the jewelry.

I'd rather not jinx things, though.

If I want to go with the flow, not upset the balance, and accept my place in the stack of things I don't raise a fuss. I don't send emotional mails (or I do, but they disappear into the smoky oblivion that is your inbox) and I don't tell you how I am doing, really, past the "I'm ok, thanks." Boats are for riding in, they're not for rocking. I try to let you know what it is I really want (it's just for you to try, that's all I want) without causing a ruckus.

Maybe that's working, too, because now you, my stepmother, and her mother are planning to come out here in September.

And you really need to come. I'm hanging here by my fingernails, man, and loyalty can only go so long. You might not like it here, you might not like how much I've changed and who I've become (you won't believe how much I've changed), you might not like Angus, you might not like Gorby, but the truth is? You don't need to. I'm inviting you into my life, and I'm going to show you life just the way it is.

No more lying.

I'm done with that, and maybe you should be, too.

With the exception of London days, where I write my blog posts in Word as we speed down the rail tracks, my blog posts are written in the same way. I wake up and walk the dog. I check emails from work quickly to see if there's anything I need to deal with urgently (and I check my daily email cartoon I signed up for from Vimrod-they always make me grin). I get a cup of coffee and turn on iTunes, and then I disconnect my brain and just let it go. A good percentage of the time I don't even remember what I've written when I'm done.

Then I log off and go to work.

This morning I woke up alone in bed-Angus had left for an early London meeting, and I shook the bloofy nightmare from my mind. I sat up in our bed and reached behind me to raise the shades. My hair tangled down my back and my head hurt. I sat there and thought about the Kafka dream that woke me up, how it found something I want and took it away from me. I've been terrified for so long.

I can kid myself and say that I'm getting past it all, or that the dreams don't upset me, they're simply dreams. But the truth is, I still wake up scared sometimes. Maybe I always will.

In the meantime, I make my cup of coffee. I walk the dog. I read my daily Vimrod mail. I sit down and pour my brains out and I hope and pray it doesn't jinx me somehow, that in a month's time I don't sit and tell you what a fucking asshole I was for feeling like I could shake the dream off.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:52 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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