Dancing Day Three Away

Day Three. If you're not inclined to read someone else's diary, then stop now. I never wrote in a diary before. The only diary I have ever seen or read was my late Mother's, but that's another story all together. I never even wrote in a journal. I did write letters, long letters, by hand. Some sweet, some not so much.  So, there in a nutshell is a history of my writing. However, this post is not about my writing. It's about Day three.

I had a Day two night dream. Someone was calling me, but I didn't recognize the voice. I didn't recognize the name either that was being called, but I knew it was me that was wanted. I walked around a corner and there was an old man standing there that I didn't know, but I wasn't frightened. He looked at me and winked. Then he turned and walked away. I followed him, but he did a half turn toward me, raised his right hand with his index finger extended, pointed slightly to the horizon and shook his head slowly from left to right, right to left. Then I woke up.

Day three has been an up and down steeple chase. My horse is not wanting to cooperate at all. I want him to go up and over, but he keeps hitting the rails.

I had promised my friend I would do some shopping with her. We both hate shopping and together it's safety in numbers, so I knew it would be short if not so sweet. But when I woke up, I was already anxious, already sad. I was supposed to meet her at 10:45 to do our errands. I think I can do this. I get in the shower, do my morning thing and get ready. Then, no, I really don't want to do this. I just want to go back to bed. But, instead of sleeping, I decide to write.

I write and write and write some more. I post some of it to my blog without editing it. It's simply a diary entry for me right now. Then I get a text "Wr R U". Oh, damn. I forgot! I have an obligation that I must meet.

After shopping and lunch, I head home. I drive into my driveway and stop.  My CD is playing Rachmaninov's Vocalise. I begin to cry. No, that's not quite right. I begin to sob and sob and sob. Big, huge crocodile tears rolling down my face. I'm heaving, but I keep listening to this beautiful music. What is wrong with me??

But I know what's wrong. I know this is how my mind and body are reacting to withdrawal.  So, it's time to take another route, another tack. I go into the house, load up my music and turn up the volume. Now is the time! Rock and roll time. Time to shake off my sadness, my anxiousness. I start to dance. I think I should try to clean my house. But, no! The house can wait. It's about the dancing and the joy now. And I begin to feel it.

Day four will come what may, but for now I dance.