I woke up this morning with the oddest feeling. I had odd dreams. Let me tell you about the dreams. The first one was about a surrogate mother. I'm not sure why she was black (if she needed a reason), but she was. I could still point her out in a crowd even 13 hours later. She was carrying a baby for someone else "only for six months" at which point it was understood in the dream that she would somehow "transplant" the baby back. Huh? I'm not sure why this dream made me feel bad, but it did.
The second dream was clearer, and I actually told it to my partner as I was making coffee at 5 a.m. I have completely forgotten it now.
Point is, I woke up this morning feeling odd. I have been feeling a bit depressed--please don't tell anyone--so this wasn't anything new. Writing has been difficult. It is as though I've been stuck behind a pile up on the interstate for months and nothing is moving.
A few months ago this actually happened to me. It was early in the morning. I had just dropped off my partner at the airport and I was driving home. Three miles from the airport, brake lights from dozens of cars went on in front of me. The accident took the life of a man in his thirties (I heard from the radio). As I sat in my car behind the Karambolage (for three hours), I wrote a story--"Triangulation".
Thank you to Nicolette Wong of A-Minor Magazine for nominating "Triangulation" for Best of the Net. Your encouragement means a lot to me. Nicolette.
I must be off,