Sunday, August 28, 2016

dream: picking up my depressed self

pretty sure that's what's up here.

and "depressed" for lack of a better description.

a lump landed on the street at the curb, a couple times.

writing that reminds me of the osmond kid landed on the sidewalk that day.


on the second occasion I'm in the front passenger seat of a car with, as best I remember, the driver's door open. the car is idling. I think I'm waiting for the driver to return.

he does, it's him, splat and kerplunk where street and sidewalk make gutter.

I get out and bend over, all attentive-like.

think to get up and turn off the idling engine, then come back to sir slump-a-dump and try to get him to his feet.

manage to but he's heavy deadweight, and thick and sloppyish, fifty pounds of lard overweight.

and considerably down in the dumps, won't lift his head up off his puffy chest.

then he asks if I have any.

which somehow indicates he's not injured, as I has suspected he might be.

he wants it to fix his "mindset."

interesting that "I" am separate from this fellow, who is, I'm pretty damn sure, a not-so-svelte portion of me.

takes some effort but I do get him on his feet.

requires some self-awareness, too.

a recognition.

and compassion for self, I think.

the understanding that beating oneself up probably isn't the best solution where getting clear(er) (and cleanr) is concerned.