Dia De Los Muertos

The prompt for this one was “nature’s tranquilizer.”  This is where it led.

I had one of those nights when I thought I couldn’t sleep, when I thought my mind was turning over and over again a tired thought, a hazy dream, and then I rolled over, mumbling and wondering why I couldn’t rest, and I glanced at the clock and realized I’d been asleep for hours.  I turned on my white noise machine, a silly device that allows me to project an artificial recording, my choice of one of nature’s tranquilizers:  ocean waves, babbling brook, steady rain drops.  I chose “woodland,” a collection of bird song and cricket chirp on a loop, the monotony of which is sometimes helpful. I used to picture a time a few decades ago when he and I lay on a blanket under a tree after swimming in the river, a rare day without drama.  But I have grown past the need to placate my psyche with cheerful memories.  To calm myself I close my eyes and think only of my ear canals receiving the vibrations of the white noise-sh, sh, sh.

I have been dreaming lately of the dead.  I dream of my mother, how she’s waiting in the car for me outside, so sure I will join her soon that she keeps the engine running.  I dream of Craig in a hospital having surgery and I think I must go with some fruit or flowers or a liter of his favorite cherry cola, and then I remember he never made it to the hospital; he was dead when the ambulance arrived. I dream of my acupuncturist and how I want to tell her good-bye.  I want to thank her for all she has done for me for two and a half decades.  But in the dream, I don’t say anything because I’m afraid it will upset her if I tell her she is dead.

I want to learn how to forgive but that scares me too.  If I let go of the last bits of resentment and self-pity will there be nothing left, no ballast to hold me to the ground?  Will I simply let go, will I drop this heavy frame and float away?  I hear it can be nice on the other side, but am I ready?  I do hope that if I release my mortals and my venials that I will discover the barriers are down.  I will suddenly accomplish things I never thought possible.  Can I be of service?  Can I learn to be a healer?  I hear my pen scratching scratching scratching on the page, white noise soothing tranquilizing nurturing.

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