day 83: dreadlocks

I am halfway through these three days I’ve dreaded for the past three weeks. The dreaded were far worse than the actual. So I am reminded of when I prayed

God, take my fears, take my worries. Take my love, take my hope. Guide my dreams, my thoughts, my words, my deeds.

The worst of the actual thus far was my dream in which I miscarried twice, suffered incontinence, obesity, and incurable myalgia and on top of that carried a cringe-worthy stench; my morning nap: sieged by a horrific meld of emergency room presentations. Even my disturbed slumber was merely a blip in a morning whose waking shines bright in my memory; what better way to wake up than completely loved by husband and pup and God? Such love even tempers not-a-snow-day blues.








Given the requisite real-job hours at hand, I’ve time to expand upon my deja vu posts.

At irregularly irregular moments, when I walk by a certain place or stand in such a way, I have a feeling I’ve found myself in the same circumstance (which is likely) and what comes before and what comes after will happen just the way it did in that other past* time (which is unlikely.) I am uncertain where my certainty originates; in all my worldly experience I have not come across a reasonable person who believes deja vu is anything more than a faulty (and perhaps psychotic) sensation. This excludes, of course, Neo, Trinity, Morpheus, Switch, Apoc, and their other freed and Matrix-wandering friends.

This past weekend, though, was deja vu in a Groundhog Day sense. I had the privilege of speaking with Mr. Cs after my first performance of 13.3 last Thursday. He explained that every drop of the ball felt like a punch in the gut because I wasn’t staying tight. He added more words and more eloquence which my poor memory cannot repeat, but the impression it left spurred me to a 54-reps-improvement on a Saturday morning do-over.

I received so many congratulations when I proudly posted my score on Instagram. The two pictures posted yesterday seemed another sort of deja vu, yet I carry an unexplored notion that they are different to the point of being opposites. I believe understanding a difference or lack would require an essay whose writing I, presently, will not undertake.

*often I have a vague conviction I would be more correct saying “future”


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