Every Day Above Ground (mallorys_camera) wrote,
Every Day Above Ground

Memories of Being a Dinosaur

Had one of those dreams that can’t be put into words.

This happens from time to time.

It’s like the dream was really a vestigial memory from the time when I used to be a dinosaur or a jellyfish or a segmented roundworm, so absolutely outside the realm of human experience was it.

Always a bit disquieting, those types of dreams.


Else? It rained all day yesterday.

And it was really, really cold.

Every time I thought to myself, Just bundle up. You’ve got to get outside!, it would begin pouring again.

That’s the insult-to-injury part of this whole damn quarantine thing: This has just been the worst April, so rainy, so cold. It’s like the winter that wouldn’t happen became the winter that wouldn’t go away.

Consequently, the day felt bloated. Inconsequential. Meaningless.

In the evening, Max called. Max doesn’t like small talk, so we often end up talking about our mental states.

“Maybe you should try practicing mindfulness,” Max suggested.

And I thought, If there’s one word I fucking hate, that word is mindfulness. What exactly is it supposed to mean? (That’s the Barbara Ehrenreich Natural Causes influence.)

“I’m always mindful,” I said. “Paying attention is the one thing I’m really, really good at.”

“Well, I mean. You said you spent all day doing nothing—“

“Well, I read a lot. I did the laundry. It’s not like I spent the day staring at a wall—“

“A lot of people do,” Max said.

“What? Spend the day staring at a wall?”

“Yeah,” Max said.

So, I guess I’m in better mental shape than I thought! I did not spend the day staring at a wall!


We talked about economic reopening.

I said, “I don’t care if they’re Trump supporters. I have nothing but sympathy for those protestors. At the best of times—during those supposedly boom times that preceded the covid meltdown—they were maybe one paycheck away from a complete economic meltdown. And now, look at them. Their lives are wrecks. And it’s gonna get worse—“

“I’m sympathetic to them, too,” Max said. “But the reopening has got to take place in a systematic away according to guidelines. Otherwise, any benefit that was gained from those six weeks of lockdown is going to vanish. And you need to keep isolating—“

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Mom. You’re old. And you’ve got autoimmune issues—“

I wanted to tell him, Yes, but I’m magic. I’m never going to get covid-19.

But I figured that sounded too crazy. Even for me.


He also asked me how much it would cost to buy a gaming computer and then volunteered to buy me one.

“Absolutely not!” I said.

“But if it would make you happy—“

“There is no way I am going to let you spend that kind of money on something that trivial at the onset of an economic depression that’s gonna make the Great Depression look like a stroll through the park,” I said. “If I really think I can’t live without a gaming computer, I’ll put it on a credit card. I have a fabulous credit rating. Keep your money! You’re gonna need it.”


Supposed to rain today, too. And it’s just so fucking cold. The world sucks when it’s wet and cold.

Crossposted from Dreamwidth
Tags: covid-19, dreams, max, weather
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