Good morning, good evening, good afternoon. You ever wake up from a dream so strangely, abstractly horrible that it paralyzed you? I swear, it’s like I can’t catch a break. July is a cursed month for me or something…
My mom died. In the dream, not in real life, ya sillies. There’d be more “wah!” and less “meh…” in this, if you’re paying attention. I didn’t even see it, and I think that’s the part that scares me the most. My own mother’s death, and I wasn’t there to keep her company. Go fig.
It’s not like I wouldn’t know what to do. There’d be a small swell of panic, then some rigorous planning. Then, after the funeral, I’d disappear like a ghost in the fog, just that easy. One doesn’t need a house and a job to exist, I’ve seen that. One does need to work and gather in order to survive. Wouldn’t be easy; I’m not the most fit, you see. But another man’s garbage is another man’s treasure.
