A Visit From Humphrey
Copied from Dreamwidth, which seems to no longer be able to cross-post here to LiveJournal...
I had to write this down somewhere, and with the state of social media, I don't know if any of those accounts will be permanent. I should know better. Nothing is permanent. Likely not even this. But I digress...
I dreamt last night I was visiting a place. I thin it was at our friends' Nic & Brett's in Baltimore. And some people came in that I instinctively knew were friends and family. They Brough Humphrey with them. I was so excited to see him again, and him me, and he came up, and we were just kissing each other hello and so happy to see each other again. And the rational parts of my one started working. Like I remember thinking "I'm glad no one in this room thinks it's weird that I'm basically making out with this dog for so long in this room full of people." I was petting him and telling him that I love him, and he was in perfect health. So I began questioning why he wasn't sick when he was staying with these people, and if he was so well now, why couldn't he live with us again? (The answer: because he's dead, Kevenn, and you're ruining his visit trying to figure everything out!)
So as the detective brain wheels start turning, somehow I end up taking Humphrey outside for a walk, but the people who brought him over didn't have him on a leash, and so Humphrey runs up the sidewalk, and I frantically call his name, screaming it, so that he comes back. He sees some people on the sidewalk and stops to say hello to them, and it seems that he understands that his running ahead distresses me, so he comes back, and I think that he's going to just walk with me like other dogs do with their people, but right as we get to a corner, he turns left and runs into the street, terrifying me again. He avoids being hit by a yellow taxi, and I mange to catch up with him, and we go back inside the apartment.
In the apartment, it's crowded. I'm in the kitchen, and there's clutter, and it's difficult for me to get around it and go into the living room where I know that Humphrey has gone to...
And then Ray's alarm went off, waking me up, and I was unable to get back to sleep and return to the apartment where Humphrey was. DAMN.
We always want more, don't we? But now I have the memory of his visit, and seeing him again. It's taken me a long time to get to this point in my grief over his loss where I'm starting to feel like I'm getting some of my life back again. I'm enjoying my art again. I know I will never be the same, and his loss has affected me profoundly. Interacting with other humans has been a lot more difficult since he died. I feel like my ability to "pass as one of them" has been severely diminished since his passing. But there's a lessening of the constant heavy weight of sorrow, which is not unpleasant, and I'm grateful for it.
I had to write this down somewhere, and with the state of social media, I don't know if any of those accounts will be permanent. I should know better. Nothing is permanent. Likely not even this. But I digress...
I dreamt last night I was visiting a place. I thin it was at our friends' Nic & Brett's in Baltimore. And some people came in that I instinctively knew were friends and family. They Brough Humphrey with them. I was so excited to see him again, and him me, and he came up, and we were just kissing each other hello and so happy to see each other again. And the rational parts of my one started working. Like I remember thinking "I'm glad no one in this room thinks it's weird that I'm basically making out with this dog for so long in this room full of people." I was petting him and telling him that I love him, and he was in perfect health. So I began questioning why he wasn't sick when he was staying with these people, and if he was so well now, why couldn't he live with us again? (The answer: because he's dead, Kevenn, and you're ruining his visit trying to figure everything out!)
So as the detective brain wheels start turning, somehow I end up taking Humphrey outside for a walk, but the people who brought him over didn't have him on a leash, and so Humphrey runs up the sidewalk, and I frantically call his name, screaming it, so that he comes back. He sees some people on the sidewalk and stops to say hello to them, and it seems that he understands that his running ahead distresses me, so he comes back, and I think that he's going to just walk with me like other dogs do with their people, but right as we get to a corner, he turns left and runs into the street, terrifying me again. He avoids being hit by a yellow taxi, and I mange to catch up with him, and we go back inside the apartment.
In the apartment, it's crowded. I'm in the kitchen, and there's clutter, and it's difficult for me to get around it and go into the living room where I know that Humphrey has gone to...
And then Ray's alarm went off, waking me up, and I was unable to get back to sleep and return to the apartment where Humphrey was. DAMN.
We always want more, don't we? But now I have the memory of his visit, and seeing him again. It's taken me a long time to get to this point in my grief over his loss where I'm starting to feel like I'm getting some of my life back again. I'm enjoying my art again. I know I will never be the same, and his loss has affected me profoundly. Interacting with other humans has been a lot more difficult since he died. I feel like my ability to "pass as one of them" has been severely diminished since his passing. But there's a lessening of the constant heavy weight of sorrow, which is not unpleasant, and I'm grateful for it.