Saturday, March 30, 2013

Day 287 - return of the basset

I think I might be getting old because I am having a harder time sleeping in even when I am tired. I just automatically wake at 0600 or so without an alarm and can't seem to get back to sleep. I have heard this complaint from many an elderly woman. I don't mind because one of my favorite things to do is lie in bed and stretch a bit then roll from left to right to left and think about stuff and yawn and I could do that easily for a couple of hours if the house is quiet. I think I may really have fallen asleep, but who knows? I didn't feel asleep.
I was halfway up a narrow steep flight of stairs. They were dusty and at the top was a little landing where the stairs turned around and a huge round window with sun pouring through. I don't know why, but I was really afraid to go up the stairs. I could hear the sound of a dog's nails scrabbling around on the floor above me.
"Agnes? Is that you?"
No answer.
I lifted one foot to the next riser and shifted my weight up. Other foot. I felt each step in exquisite detail, the way my shoe felt when it hit the stair, my thigh muscles contracting to lift up my weight. Even though I thought Agnes was up there, I was terrified. I don't know why. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and my neck. When I got to the top, it wasn't a landing but steps that curved around and the ceiling was really low and I had to lean way over. There was a very dusty, dark room at the top and Agnes was there!
"Agnes, I'm so happy to see you! Why didn't you say you were here?"
"That wouldn't have been honoring your fear."
At the time she said it, I knew just what she meant. Now, I have no idea.
I sat on the floor and scratched behind her ear; it was so incredibly soft and then I pulled her into my lap. She scrambled out and sat facing me. I couldn't figure out why she did that.
"Agnes, tell me what's going on!"
"I'm a dog," she said, "I can't talk."

So, what, I wonder, exactly am I supposed to make of this? I am doing some new (and, yes, kind of scary) stuff in a couple domains in my life that I don't really want to talk more about. I'm sure that brought her out. Was I supposed to find her visit encouraging? I wish I understood more what "honoring your fear" might mean.  I found it more helpful when Agnes provided me with more direct advice, but it was nice to see her. I had wondered a little bit if she would make a repeat visit and certainly when.
And, really, isn't that maddening? "I can't talk." Yeah, and I can't type. Geez.

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