10 December 2008

Payson Louise Adams


This post is really going out to someone important, so if you are not they feel free to ignore it. Or pass it on to her. So far as I know, there's only one Payson Louise Adams out there. Could be wrong though.

Should ever get the odd inspiration to Google yourself, as so many of us do in idle moments of electronic boredom, hopefully this message will get to you. There can't be too many Web pages with the full name of one Payson Adams set within the title. If it does, then drop me a line. Yeah, I'm that whining, annoying, ever so slightly insane person that haunts your dreams at times, and I've been told that I am disturbingly easy to Google. Besides, my phone number is still the same it was a decade ago.

But why this posting?

Well, I am used to running into you in the dream time. It has become sort of second nature. Giving you a shoulder to cry on when a boyfriend dumped you, are trying to intercept you as you skittishly ran away from something or another in your life, watching you sort through your life, and, most often, getting sidelined because it was your dream and you were too busy doing other things to deal with me. As of late the events have been tame, usually upbeat, chattering about life and catching up on the world. Such a common occurrence that it is really almost background noise these days.

But last night I was off at some event (it appeared to be a major academic conference in a small, comfortable cafe) and it turned out you lived nearby, so I was visiting to visit and to negotiate a place to crash or the night. But while we were talking, you collapsed on the floor. Then you just lay there, weakly continuing to chat, trying to act as if nothing was wrong even though it looked like it took all your energy just to roll on to your back, even with my help. So I sat there on the floor next to you, worried, hoping, watching, and talking, afraid to leave because, dreams being what they are, who knows if I could find help, or find my way back to where you lay. Sitting there all the while very uncomfortable with how weak and frail you looked. I wanted to run out and find you a doctor and a chocolate milk shake.

I have seen you in the dream time happy, sad, angry, complacent, devastated, oblivious, and scared, but never weak. It hurt me and worried me. Feeling helpless around a friend in need is a terrible feeling.

So I just wanted to make sure all was well.

If so drop me a line so this old fuss-bucket stops worrying. And, if not, you still know where you can find a friend.

Okay, waaaay to many levels of reality in this posting, isn't there? A virtual character talking about their real-life counterpart talking about their dreamtime counterpart.

Brain hurt. Now let's see if I can avoid being a coward and not delete this again out of morbid fear of embarrassment.

As an update, a week later, dream visits back to normal chatting, hanging out, normalcy. Last night you were returning some LPs that had been hiding in your mom's house since college.

But yeesh! Say hi anyway. Silly person.

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