Strange dream night before last. Very.

Triggered, I imagine, by a news update on the shootings in Aurora, CO, ten miles from here, this: I dreamt I was at a lunchtime meal-meeting with my coworkers when a man with a hunting bow came into the room. The man stalked the space, aiming at each of us with razor-tipped arrows as we tried to hide. At last, in a moment as much luck as it was determination, I found myself behind him. I jumped on his back and got a choke hold around his neck, the chance my companions needed to disarm him. Very scary.

And here was the strange thing: As the dust settled, as the cops came and took the man away, as I got my jacket and came back among the company, no one said a word to me. No one acknowledged what I’d done, as if I had become invisible.

Rather, I suppose, the way I’m feeling now.

I am often a ghost among company, surrounded, often, by friendly-enough people, but no real friends. Isolation (whether imposed by self or others) is not a condition unknown to me. But that’s not the reason for occupying a place so near to squirmy discontent.

I am nearly a week removed from the book-in-progress. The reasons have not all been unpleasant: I got to spend three whole days with my dear Kristina. No, the main part of this removal from Self has come from the demands of work and the tiredness that it breeds. The numbers for this blogspace have tanked. Inside my head I am tired and alone.

I don’t like this place of inner isolation. My plot is keeping itself at an arm’s reach. My characters are aloof and unattainable; I ask them to speak to me, but they don’t. Won’t. I try to connect with the plot, yet, although I know the points are waiting for me in the notebook, they do not pick me up and propel me forward.

Being a participant in my own work. That is what I want. That is what I miss.

I know that this feeling won’t last. This adriftness is a merely a stage on which ideas will eventually play themselves out. But I am not happy in this headspace. I am a woman of direction. The work has been a refuge from co-workers who do not know the difference between condescension and guidance and people who refuse to make a connection. Faced with less-than-success, I am often tempted to walk away; to live within the improbable dream. But I don’t. I remain adrift and wait for the connections to come.

Today I will give myself wholly to thoughts. To invite the universe in. To surround my mind with the people I truly love, some fleshandblood, some not.

Screw reality.

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