Drug Induced Dreams and Thank God I have a couch

I woke up. Just like that. 36 hours into la-la land, I decided that having psychedelic dreams and tingling, ewwwwwwey-ouweeeeey numbness, was kind of boring. I grabbed the RX bottle and tossed it into the cat litter bucket~makeshift coffee table~instant plastic garbage can that had followed me through the night. Everytime I woke up, the plastic Tidy Cat box was there. Cigarettes and ashtray, RX, and cell phone perched on it's lid. 36 hours later the cigarette pack was half empty, the ashtray half full and the cellphone dead. 38 hours later, my heartbeat was beating like Eminem on cheap speakers throughout my foot. I gritted my teeth, chugged down iced tea and swallowed two Advil. Cocooned myself in the blankets on the couch and started counting.

I always think there's a reason for everything. Some unknown, yet to be discovered reason lurking in the shadows. I rarely hunt for it anymore, I just know it's there, waiting to show it's "Are you watching me, now?" face.

I believe.

So I never questioned why jumping up and down in my sister's living room telling the fairytale story of the little magpie "pwincesses" at hippie daycare would find me splat! on the floor, broken and wailing. I mean, the whole scene did divert another crises, so hell, maybe I didn't have to be so dramatic, but it worked! It was just meant to be.....

And that's why, now that I'm straight (yeah, you aren't believing me, are you?) I'm just pondering, not questioning, just pondering, the meaning behind my most vivid drug induced dream. I keep watching it over and over again in technicolor memory, in slow speed....thinking I'm supposed to get something from it.....

I was on the ground, or below or under anyway, and I saw her way up above, toward the peak of the roof. She was just there suddenly, in silly Pippi Longstocking clothes, sneakers and socks and mismatched leggings and skirts and shirts and jackets...

and she was sliding down the shingles, bumpety bumpety bump and then flipping, twirling, skinny little arms flying and then bouncing, pouncing onto the roof below and then dune-rolling somersaulting cart-wheeling down to the next roof, rump bumping, knee knocking, crawling face first so fast her feet flipped over her head and she was spider walking in a back bend, faster and faster....
to the next roof
and the next roof
and I no longer stood below panicked
or gathering sheets for a fireman's net
or yelling for help
I was just watching in awe
as
her colors
my colors
flipped furiously
through the shingled sky
and from where
I stood
in spite of the road rash
the skint knees
the bonked up forehead
and
tangled hair
she
looked like she was having fun.

I can't wait to dance again......