I wake from a night filled with dreams. I dream of a dog chained to a dog house, it is crying out for water and food, and yet it has a shining silver bowl and it his dog house is flooded with spring melt. I drive by and then stop, opening my window and listening to it cry towards the house, yearning to be brought in.
Later I stop and yes the dog is still chained to the dog house. I contemplate calling the humane society. I get out of my car, I go to the friendly little pup, I pick it up and place it on dry ground to pee. It is firm and clean and well fed. I find myself wishing this dog were my dog. It is just a charming lovely dog. The house is nothing special, a salmon pink shingled ranch house, the light comes on not because the dog is barking but for its silence. The front door opens, only a shadowy figure stands there. A sleek, well groomed, ears clipped and bejeweled doberman bitch stands alert at the doorway. The shadow retreats, the doberman does not bark as I get in my car and drive away. I feel sorry for that pup chained to the dog house. But she is not mine.
I wake, I am sobbing.
I dream that his father has cancer, and he cannot understand the blood chemistry. I dream that the only person he wants to talk to about his father’s illness is me. But he cannot. I worry. It feels like a prophetic dream. And I feel sad. I will never know. He would never tell.
I dream that I am driving a route I have driven before, with a smaller car, with a car that maybe could do the hard parts better and fit in smaller spaces, but here I am driving the route again. It is through a cemetery with a beautiful view, an historic cemetery, filled with angelic sculptures. I am driving my new car, it does just fine on the rough terrain, it squeezes through the tight spaces. And yet he stands over me judging, assessing. I wake, I am annoyed. Why do you haunt me now? I haven’t thought of you in weeks, I haven’t dreamed of you or your bitch in months.
Once I painted a thing of beauty, arching bodies, brilliant colors, butterflies emerging from cocoons, and ugly things crawling from my head and women aching to be touched. Now I draw dolls, and flattened women, and zombies, gargoyles and dark winged angels. I have discovered darkness in this cemetery, and I find it comforting to know that you brought me here. That dog you have chained to a flooded dog house, that you allow your bitch to keep you from? She is a charming and lovely little thing, and you know she deserves more. But you too a creature of darkness, which is why you hide. In the shadows. And haunt my dreams.