There is a certain satisfaction to starting over. Sure you cut your losses. Mourn what you built that you can't bring. But we are coming through in tact, together, winnowed down and further winnowing. It is a dream, really. My head is clearer than it has been in years. I am getting rid of half or more of my clothes. My foot is healing and I am back to pure joy that I can run, am able to.
When I wake in the morning for the past several days, I tell Doug my dreams. In the process of telling him I find that I can't breathe. It has been years since that has happened. I feel joy, even a sense of control in chaos. Why this, then? One of the dreams was about the weather in San Franciso. There were great storm clouds inverted in the sky so they hung down like floating cities. They were dark and inscrutible and godlike. The menace was comforting. But telling it, I couldn't breathe.
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