The Inadvertent Imbecile

I dreamed that I could NOT get home from work.

Work was the printing company I’d worked at for a zillion years but, in this nocturnal moviola, we were in East Somerville versus Back Bay.  Now then, East Somerville used to be très grotty. Eons ago, I had studio space over that way and always tried to be done and down to the T stop, located in the bleakest, most blighted and industrialized end of of town, before dark.

Is that still a section ‘o’ town to avoid? Prolly not. In the past 20 years property prices have rocketed through the exosphere.

The first place Jen, Oni, The Amazing Bob and I looked at, in our search for Valhalla, was in East Somerville. It was the only neighborhood that was relatively affordable and close-by Cambridge. The price tag was in our range but the joint wasn’t in great shape – bad windows, the basement was wet, rooms were small and, amongst other things, the electrical system would need updating. Oh yeah and we did NOT like the neighborhood.

It’s probably posh as fuck now. I expect some Richie Rich snapped it up and either rehabbed the shit out of it OR is renting to three dozen Tufts students (and making a mint off it).

Back in Dream World, it was way late, well after dark. Me and a buncha co-workers clocked out at the same time and were gonna catch a cab-share back across the river to Boston. Nailed one and everyone piled in ahead of me. I couldn't shoehorn my way in and they booked on outta there. I began walking down to the nasty-ass Sullivan Square Orange Line stop. When I crested the cement and asphalt covered hill just before the station, I found a bombed out looking crater. The T was gone – there was only rubble. Huh.
 
Looked like there was no way home so I turned around and trudged back to work.

What’s this all about? Is it really work related? Nope.

My guess is that it’s about how overwhelmed/at sea I’ve been feeling lately. My father’s fall, his broken arm and odd, mega adamant refusal of medical care (apart from a sling) has triggered my never terribly far from the surface TAB grief. And 3/24 was the anniversary of Rocco’s end.

Coco is sternly instructing me to chill the fuck out.

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
~ W.B. Yeats

Yesterday morning I was trying to decide whether I had it in me to go to the March for Our Lives or no – leaning toward negatory – when I got a text from Felicity. She was inside and waiting for me. What? Had I planned to meet her at the java joint pre-march (as we’ve done for past protests)? After a few back and forths I realized NO. I’d long ago planned to attend the Neurofibromatosis Symposium at MGH with her and she was at the Simches Center, waiting for me. EEK!

Christ Almighty, this had fallen COMPLETELY off my radar. I feel like such an idiot for, WHOLLY unintentionally, standing her up.

This is what happens when I get slammed – my mind blanks out on all but what’s immediately in front of me. I become an accidental asshole.

Blind Faith – Can’t Find My Way Home