Java’s Jabber

Freudian CHP Slip

Dispatcher is giving info on an accident with ejection. Only that isn’t what comes out!

The dreams?  I thought I was done with them.  But they continue.

What brought it back this time was a good friend ended up in the hospital with a partially collapsed lung. Come to find out there was a tumor the size of 1 1/2 grapefruits between her lungs and heart.  She’s 36 and has a 3 year old son.  I couldn’t be more devastated for her…and angry at the military hospital that pooh-poohed her insistance that something was wrong.

So then the dreams.  This one was where my brother was there and had time to prepare for his death.  I cannot remember what specifically he wrote, but there was something, written beautifully on an 8 1/2×11 piece of paper that was apparently his farewell.  I woke up sobbing.  Again.

And how does that make me feel?  Like shit.  I feel so much for my friend and what she is going through, but where does my subconscious heart go? To me.   It’s not about me and never has been.  But I find that with each hit, the dagger goes deeper.  I feel like I’m fine most of the time, but then this kind of shit happens…and I have no defense.

My friend was given a death sentence from the oncologist.  I feared the worst.  Thankfully she learned that she has Hodgkins Lymphoma.  Once I heard that, I immediately started my searching.  I found out that the unbearable itching she has been suffering from the last 2+ years is a symptom of Hodgkins.  That tells me that it’s been in her for a long time.  However, in talking to others, although it will be no cake walk for her, apparently the more advanced the Hodgkins, the more receptive it is to treatment.  It sounds like she has a really good fighting chance.  Hodgkins is one of the most treatable cancers, so I am renewed with hope for her.

Still…she will be faced with 6 months of chemo and radiation.  It is going to be hell for her.  But I am encouraged by her response with the first oncologist who gave her a death sentence prior to the biopsy results: She fired his ass!

Good job, Donna!

Now if I can get my head straight I can be there for my friend.  I will be honest, friends who feel their simplistic problems are major tragedies are those who I have a hard time connecting with now.  I wish I could feel something for them, but I can’t.  The ones who will garner my attention are those who need it most.

So I went to see my counselor last week and as I started to tell her of these dreams I was having of my brother, it suddenly dawned on me why I am having these dreams.  Well, at least partly.

The last dream was the most disturbing to me, and as I was relating it to my counselor, I started to hang up on the part where I was asking Mike why he was here, reminding him that he was dead.  And then it struck me.  The words were slightly different, but the tone of my voice….I had heard it before.  When I verbalized it out loud it made sense.  This was me telling him last Thanksgiving:
“Mike, you know you’re bipolar, don’t you?”
“Mike, you know you’re dead, don’t you?”

Before people jump to think that I am blaming myself, I don’t.  But can anyone completely unburden themselves of some of this kind of guilt?  I do have to wonder if my making him confront this caused him to get worse.  I do have to wonder if he saw where he was heading and couldn’t cope with it.  I can’t ignore it - it is possible.

But I couldn’t change it.  I was not driving this bus, and I couldn’t stop the course.

It’s been nearly 10 months since my brother’s death and I can’t say I have handled it especially well.  At times I feel detached and unaware, but at other times it hits me full force.  I have no idea why.

Now it would seem that I have moved into a dream phase.  I don’t recall dreams about  him up until now, really.  I know I have had a few but nothing I recall.  But now I’m being disturbed by them, and I can only surmise that it’s a process I have to go through.

The first dream I think I was at his house visiting his family.  As if I had just seen him seconds prior, he walks past me and goes in the front door without saying a word.  Anyone who knew Mike knows that in an of itself is unusual.  I don’t think he passed a person without some utterance of silliness coming out of his mouth.

He walked in and around the living room, and I recall feeling confused. I was trying to figure out what was going on.  On one hand I knew he was dead, but on the other it seemed so normal for him to be there.  But he wasn’t himself.  He was quiet.  He didn’t say a word.  I remember wanting to run up and hug him, but I was afraid.  A short time later as I was talking to other family members, I walked through the dining area and he was now sitting at the computer.  As I walked past him I could see on the screen he was looking at pictures of suicides.  That was when I flipped a gasket.  I yelled at him and told him to stop it.  I not only didn’t want him looking at such pictures with everyone around, but I had an intense fear I would see his picture there.  I shoved in front of him and shut down the computer.  Then I woke up.

This morning I woke up with screaming in my head.  I doubt I was actually screaming because in my dream I was paralyzed from doing so.  Nonetheless, I woke up to screaming.  The dream started off rather pleasant to a degree.  Again, Mike was there, and again, I was confused.  I also had fear coming from the confusion.  In this dream, Mike was enjoying his family, dancing around and seeming content and happy to be there.  I don’t recall him speaking, but he was in a good mood.  The whole dancing around thing was odd too - I don’t recall him ever doing that.  But obviously it was a sign of happiness.  This time I pushed past my fear and I went up to give him a hug.  I was still disturbed though.  Everyone else was apparently oblivious to the fact he was dead yet there, but I couldn’t get past it.

Anyone who knows me knows I cannot leave well enough alone.  I always have to ask why, always have to question everything, always have to know.  I was true to myself in this dream.

In the middle of the dancing everyone was doing, I went up and stopped him.  I said “Mike.  Mike!  Stop for a moment.”  I gave him a big hug and told him I missed him.  Then I asked him, “Mike, why are you here?  You know you are dead, right?”  Is there something you haven’t finished?  What is going on?”

At that moment he tore away from me incredibly distraught, ran to a corner under a stairwell, opened a cubby and climbed in, demons chasing him and surrounding him, and ultimately slamming the door shut.

I woke up to screaming.  I had just chased my brother into the bowels of hell.

The thing about these dreams is that I don’t know why I am having them.  I don’t know what purpose my mind has in showing them to me.  I don’t believe in life after death.  I don’t believe his spirit walks this earth.  I believe he is at peace and unaware of anything this world has to offer at this time.

So why am I haunted?

It is a sad day for many adults and kids everywhere today as we mourn the passing of our beloved Mother’s/Archway brand cookies. No more Iced Raisin Cookies, no more Taffy’s, no more Iced Animals.

Rush to the store and stock up now because soon they will be but a fond memory and a lost chance at savoring cookies not available anywhere else. Hmmm….I wonder how they’d fare in the freezer!!!

A fun new site I have been addicted to lately is http://www.totallylookslike.com. I have made my own submissions, but I can see it is easy to spam your vote and skew results. Some of them are way out in left field, while mine ::ahem:: are dead on!

So do me a favor, go to the vote page and vote for my submissions!

see more famous faces look-a-likes

see more famous faces look-a-likes

I have to spend way too much time online today as I’m trying to download EVERYTHING from my website onto my computer because my webhost is so freaking unreliable.   As soon as I can get my domain transferred to my name and my DNS changed, I’m moving over to Banana Hosting whom I love.

Anyway, while I am wasting all this time, I have found myself wandering aimlessly through the aisles of the interwebz, getting snippets of this and that.  One recurring theme that I seem to find every time I “window shop” here is a blog by the sardonic misanthrope, usually a woman, who has a really bad attitude and thinks she’s so utterly cool because of it.   Here would be one example, where our heroine actually makes up a new word….or is that name?  Hmm.

While we all have bad days, some of these people, if you read their blogs, it would appear they have a bad life, and they enjoy puking it out all over.  Okay, so sometimes I say “shit.”  Sometimes I feel like it.  Sometimes I am pissed about something.  And sometimes some things annoy me (like, ummm, this).  But every once in awhile I contend it is good to be happy.  It is good to enjoy frivolity.  And never, in my book, is it good to adopt a sarcastic attitude because you think it will make you stand apart from others and be noticed.  Never, in my book, is it a worthwhile venture to try to appear cool for cool’s sake.  It only ends up making one look tragically desperate for attention.  Indeed there are some people out there who were born this way, but it would seem we are at an epidemic level of people who are so disdainful of life and the people around them.  And for me that translates to an air of trying to project a single facet of one’s personality for the sake of carving a niche out.    And suddenly someone’s tagline comes to mind for me:  “Remember, you are unique.  Like everyone else.” 

Now, if I could only get this downloading done I could be on my way.  But I have a feeling I’ll be here for awhile, and that means you all may be seeing more blogs coming your way. 

….and THIS pops up:

Now. ::ahem:: Do I just have a dirty mind, or do you think the set crew had dirty minds?

That’s my bullet! Yes, indeedy.  But it’s not any ordinary bullet.  It’s my brother’s bullet.

Now before you all think I’ve gone stark raving mad, there is a story behind this.  Some people might think that I would associate this with his death.  Well, in a round about way I do, but it’s not in the negative way one might think.

My brother, as I believe I have blogged about before, used to carry a bullet around in his pocket, and then he would say “See my bullet?”  Someone asked him once why he did it.  He explained that our dad’s friend Bob used to do this and he thought it was weird.  So why did he do it?  Because it was weird and most of all, people remembered him!

When I went to his funeral this was the topic of conversation a few times.  My sister got one of his bullets to remember him by.  I wanted to but in the chaos I forgot.  I arranged, however, with my sister in law, to buy my brother’s truck.  I just wanted a piece of him with me.

So a few days ago, I am coming home and got out of the truck, picking up my junk and as I reached for my soda, I looked down.  For the past month I have had this truck I had never seen it.  A bullet.  It was sitting right there next to the stick shift, and I had looked there many times before.  I just never saw it.  A bullet!

I laughed.  I grabbed it and I put it in my pocket.  I have a bullet!  I have one of Mike’s bullets, and something so silly, so stupid, so weird….it put a smile on my face.  I know my brother is gone, but this memory I have of him will always speak to me every time I see the bullet.

I have to laugh further though.  I have another bullet.  As I sit here typing this I see right next to my nail clippers a bullet.  I am pretty sure it was Mike’s.  It was a spent bullet head with grooves in it.  I don’t remember where I got it though.  But this little tiny .22 bullet I found…that one is “my” bullet.  It was meant to be with me, and now it is….

It’s been awhile since I blogged, and it seems all I could do for the last few months is just wallow in negativity. I give myself a break there because it’s hard not to be negative when you have something as major as suicide touch your life, but I’m ready to start a new chapter.

For some reason I was both dreading and looking forward to going to see my sister on Spring Break. I don’t know why the dread, but I knew somehow that going down there it would allow me to come home and start a new chapter. I went, we talked, we drank wine, we laughed and cried and really accomplished not a lot…but when I got home, I did indeed feel a weight lifted off me. Why? I have no idea. Maybe I was just expecting it, so I was able to do it once I got home.

All I know is that I’ve spent the last 3 months in a dark daze. I think I’m okay day to day, but then the anxiety would set in and I would sink. And although on a logical level I knew the source of the anxiety, I couldn’t really nail it down to my brother’s death. I would be far from thinking of it, yet then I would get anxious. I guess sometimes feelings go deeper than our conscious thoughts - go beyond what we are able to control.

Anyway, all this to say that I do feel renewed. My brother’s birthday was Friday, and he would have been 48. I drove his pickup, had several things to do that day, but he was on my mind in a good way. I’m okay. It’s okay. We’re all going to move on and continue to have good times in spite of it all.

Mike - happy birthday. I think of you every time I drive your truck, especially when I crank the tunes. I know you usually loved to crank up the volume, so I do too.