I worked last night. I worked the night before that and the one before. It’s been 18 months and my body is in full revolt. Shin splints, banged up knees and rolling belly. I am so secretly pleased, every ache is earned. This is a good kind of sore. Means I am working, becoming. Pain is weakness leaving the body (some personal trainer somewhere)
I am getting stronger every day.
I get paid to do 4 stage shows. 12 minutes each. An hour of cardio every night.
I was so hungover on Tuesday I almost fell on stage. My legs felt full of Jell-O. I laughed it off and two nice boys cheered me on gently and bought me a drink after.
I used to have a drinking schedule so I could drive home. Rarely violated it.
I am trying to find a new balance, now that I don’t have to drive. Nothing is keeping me from getting black out drunk, except me. And whatever tiny bit of self-preservation has kept me alive this long.
It has been so long since I have been there that the ghosts in the bar machine forgot how much I am capable of drinking. We ran out last night. I panicked and had 3 shots of tequila. Then my boss sent out for my booze for me.
I have a full liquor cabinet at home that remains untouched. I am a geographically specific alcoholic. If I am in a strip club I have to drink. No exceptions.
I need the buffer. My first show was fine I guess, but I was acutely aware of every sharp pain and edge. My flexibility is returning in tiny excruciating increments. I could feel every pull and burn. The stage was hard and unyielding.
2 drinks later and I was just floating around, happy again.
I prayed to Dionysus yesterday that he would sustain my happy cute drunky-ness. I am trying to keep my feelings in check and just get back in my groove. It’s working.
Something magical happened this morning. A) I woke up not hungover by some grace of some god, probably Dionysus and B) I had the most incredible dream.
I think it was the tequila. Even the shittiest tequila has a little magic and hallucinogen in it.
I dreamt I was working at a hotel. Nothing lavish, just basic, and older, like something you would find in the Eastern Block. Spartan, paint chipping not fancy or exciting except for the visitors.
I dreamt I was dancing, I was going back and forth between two clubs attached to the hotel. The guests were all part of some conference. As I looked around I saw them all, misshapen by something but lovely and happy to be with each other. One of them explained they had all been deformed by some chemical in utero, like thalidomide, but it started with an A.
I saw all of these children, all malformed and I loved them. They climbed me and crawled on me and fell asleep while watching movies projected onto a dirty white wall. The movie was about dragons and one of them had lost his light so the other one gave it back.
I met a man. He was huge and beautiful. He was trying to hide the fact that he was not symmetrical from me. I held his hand and told him I was two separate halves also. He looked at me like I was the Grail. The relief he felt almost brought him to tears and of course I cried. We got separated in the dream and another man treated me badly, I had super human strength and put him up against the wall by his throat. I was afraid to let go, but I couldn’t restrain him much longer. And my giant came with his boys and took care of me. Kept me safe.
The dream ended with me leaning on him, still covered in napping children. I felt as warm and safe as I have in a long time. I found my tribe and we are all a little weird, different, asymmetrical.
I added a girl on Facebook after I woke up this morning. A writer and a page runner. Turns out she lives 20 minutes away. She gave me messages from the ether and I ended up telling her that I missed her as strange as that sounded and she just gave me more comfort and joy.
My best girl called before she went to the airport all sleep deprived with more messages. The last time I didn’t listen to her I paid dearly.
My fellow fae mama called me too. Said she had been thinking about me all morning, matched up with the time of my dream state. We spoke as well and everything she said lined up.
When I think of one person, everything makes sense. When I force myself to stop I end up in dischord, lost, grinding against everything and sad about it.
Everything points to the same thing. This dream man of mine. I know who he is, we have met and he is on his way home, I just have some work to do before he gets here.
I didn’t want to wake up and I seems as though I don’t have to.
If I build it he will come.