Life is a series of very unfortunate events. Especially late
Things keep breaking down around the house. The upstairs shower blew a water line and Dirk almost smashed through the tile trying to fix it. He tries, we BOTH try, but sometimes enough just isn’t enough. So I called the repair man before either of us messed it up too badly and he was able to fix it just fine. But the price… *sigh* I won’t even go into that.
I just keep trying to trudge forward with my art and my plans. Maybe I could open up a studio, or branch out into other types of art? Pottery, maybe, who knows? If only my Muse hadn’t seemed to have left me. I started this painting weeks ago and just looking at it makes my head hurt. I can’t paint. I can’t sleep, because when I do, there is the dream…
Well… maybe I can sleep, just not when I actually want to. Dirk? He left me there. Just… cleaned up his plate and went upstairs to do his homework.
While I was taking a spaghetti nap this happened…
Gordon King, the most notorious burglar in Pleasantview, snuck his way into our home. I’m not sure what he thought he was going to take, because we don’ own much. Dirk heard him over the stereo and had the quick thinking to call the police. In the meantime, I woke up, and confronted him. It was very intense, and also very frustrating.
Not for the first time, nor for last, I’m sure, I vented those frustrations to Darleen’s grave. How much I missed her, how much I wished things were different. How I wish I could turn back time and have her with us again. Dirk needs a mother; I need my wife.
I’m so lost without her…
In the Dream, the other world I’ve come to know, we’re still a happy family. Darleen and I and Dirk… the Three Dreamers. He grows quickly, and happily under our care, while Darleen talks frequently of having other children. Not one or two, but a whole house full of our babies. This was something we never got around to discussing in real life, but in my dream, she wants as many as we can have.
We fill each other’s days with music, laughter and love. Sometimes when I wake up, I can still hear her sweet music and feel her in my arms. It hardly seems fair that this is the only way I can see her again.
we celebrate birthdays and milestones with parties and cake, noise makers. Here the birthdays are dull and sad, and the last cake I made for Dirk burnt.
Her love of life and energy is infectious, though, and we always have so much fun.
Winter is approaching, and while in my dreams, we are happy enough to not feel the cold, I can feel it in my bones and in my heart. I know I shouldn’t dwell on this dream world. I know how unhealthy it is to wish the dream were real. But I cannot seem to help myself.
Maybe that’s the problem? Maybe that’s why my art is suffering and I cannot motivate myself to move forward with any type of plans.
Dirk got a part time at the nursing home. I didn’t want him to. I wanted him to study and spend time with his friends. But after the break in, he said he needs to “do something, Dad. Anything.” So he got a job, and he gets to keep it, so long as his grades stay decent. Maybe he’ll be able to get a scholarship for college. if he sticks with it.
It’s what Darleen would want for him.