the 1st of october is SIX years
i’ve lived here in my WeHo Hills Hideaway
it’s been my very own Hotel California
that has affectionately been named Hotel De Longpre
because “we can check out any time we like,
but we can never leave.”
as i approached this sixth anniversary
of living in my treasured sanctuary,
i had another strange “eX sneaking into my building” dream
but this time i was not disconcerted…
it started with me coming into my master bedroom
the ceiling over my bed was tearing open a little
and water started raining in lightly on my bed
it seemed odd, not real, perhaps my eyes were deceiving me
i left the room
i came back in to see it again.
the ceiling flew away and it was raining down hard on my bed
~ like rain from a hurricane ~
altho the skies above the huge hole in my ceiling
were blue with some white fluffy clouds.
then i sensed that my eX
~ or his ghost ~
was somewhere nearby my flat.
i ventured out
and went down the stairwell
into a subterranean utility janitorial room in the building
where he had set up a “camping out” type scenario
because he wanted to be readily available
to “help me” with any problems, should they arise.
i was unsure if he caused the storm
and the subsequent raining on my bed
or if he just intuited it would inevitably start happening and
decided to be there to make sure i was okay and
that i would make it through the storm.
ts, my awesome perpetual absentee flatmate,
had popped by to say hi,
had come downstairs, saw the situation
and wanted my eX to leave the building
since he hadn’t been “invited” in.
but i asked if i could talk and visit with him first
to see why he was here.
ts agreed but was vigilant and concerned.
i went into the little room,
while ts waited in the grimy corridor
dimly lit by a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.
my eX sat up from where he was laying
on an old mattress
next to a big over-stuffed backpack
in the middle of the floor
in a cement walled room
adorned only by a small high window
with burglar bars on it.
he looked weary
as tho he’d been physically, and mentally, traveling
a rough, long, hard, and dusty journey.
he had on a dread-lock type hair covering wig
which slipped off to reveal tinfoil on his head
when he looked up at me.
his bare torso and arms were covered with interesting black ink tattoos
in a hieroglyphic and iconic style,
with a few words in various languages,
vague names, and a few dates interspersed
between maori & african & celtic motifs.
the body art started low on his waist,
wrapping & snaking up & around his chest and back
then splitting and traveling down each of his arms.
he revealed it was “his story”
and mumbled that the tattooing & the story were not finished ~ yet.
he showed me one that was low and near the start of the tattoo odyssey trail,
it said “t.s. hiding a.d.o. away from me” with the date 1 Out ’05.
he seemed to have no hard feelings towards ts or me for doing it.
ts decided i was okay
it was time to go
closed the door on me & my eX
in that dismal little room.
the room, the bed, the situation
became fuzzy, unreal, liquid, electric, silent
~ a long ago tango ~
we charmed and fascinated,
bewitched and mesmerized,
enchanted and beguiled
each other for a few minutes
~ a momento crescendo ~
and we stalled without much fanfare
after that my eX stood up
led us out and up to my bedroom
~ to survey the damage, i supposed ~
i followed closely in the shadow of his footsteps.
my big restful bed was ruined,
everything else was wind-whipped.
he ineffectually attempted to mop and clean it up
then he tried to organize what was left and not totally broken
from the brief chaos of the ghostly tempest.
i blinked my eyes
then i closed my eyes
i awoke and
to scrawl down
this lucid, yet surreal, dream
maybe it will make
a semi-intriguing short story
or a thought-provoking dream analysis for an aspiring gestalt psychotherapist.