Relapse in Blue...
Last night, I went to see "Proposals" at the Huntington Beach Playhouse. While it's not my favorite Neil Simon comedy - because so much of it isn't funny - it was so well done I didn't care. What did bother me was that I saw some Westminster Community Theater people there. Westminster - site of my return to theater, obscure as it was - was not a place I wished to return and I kept thinking "Don't recognize me! Don't recognize me!" I only realize now that I had nothing to worry about. Those people are so caught up in their little world that I didn't even register. To them, their Westminster Community Theater world is so HUGE that anyone not involved must not be important - Thank God!
After, I saw my friend, Annie, who is lucky enough to play Annie in the play. What must it be like to play to your own name? She was wonderful - as always! It's no wonder she works all the time and that she's wanted by so many directors! After being told she was great in so many plays, a hint of suspicion crept into her voice as she asked, "Are you sure?" (I guess you begin to wonder if you're just being humored.) "Absolutely," I said and then complained that she made me cry towards the end of Act Two.
I went home and cuddled my cats, who have been missing me more and more and who I've been cuddling less and less. But by midnight, I had to go to sleep. My ears wouldn't pop - they wouldn't pop all day. I tried blowing my nose but, once again, that didn't help.
Into bed I went, cuddling down into the covers until - NIGHTMARE! It was two in the morning and I was shaking as the dream faded. I had to get back to sleep, though. I had to get to work the next day, today. I couldn't cuddle down into the covers to easily; terrible thoughts kept popping up.
NIGHTMARE! I sprung out of bed as if my body was covered with maggots. I'd been driving Rosa to the hospital. She was pregnant. There was an accident. Suddenly, she was driving and the steering wheel shot through her abdomen and as I helpless tried pulling her away, her body rotted away, eaten by maggots - is it any wonder I ran away from the bed?
I grabbed a cigarette, went outside and smoked it, and was awake until nearly 6am.
I went back to bed.
When I woke up, it was 9:25.
9:25? What the hell? Had I reset the clock in my sleep? It couldn't be that late. If that were true, I'd be nearly two hours late for work. So, I rolled over and looked at my computer.
It was 9:25!
I ran around, getting on some clothes, coughing. I should never smoke before going to bed, I always wake up with a cough... even if Rosa was being eaten by maggots...
I couldn't breath. I went into the bathroom and blew my nose, again and again.
By the time I got to work, my cough was worse and my nose more plugged.
Oh, shit. A relapse. This is all I need. A relapse - and whatever I had/have was/is close to bronchitis or pneumonia. Every cigarette makes it worse but when you want to die anyway, how's that a bad thing? And is it any wonder I want to die? The woman I married, the love of my life, hates me. Do I even deserve to live? And if I do, why the hell should I expect better than that?