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Sunday, January 4

dust and dreams

I am allergic to mundane things. Pollen. Wool. Dust. Perfume. They make me itch or sneeze or wheeze. I would like to have exotic allergies. I read of a celebrity once who was allergic to tree nuts. Tree nuts. Imagine. I admit to never giving one moment's thought to how nuts grow and I have difficulty picturing a peanut tree. So it must be chestnuts. That is a rather cool allergy. Dust, not so much.

So,anyway, cleaning my studio has been an exercise in patience and tolerance. I clean in 20 minute spurts, go downstairs to wash my hands and grab clean air, wait for my nose to stop running. There is not just ordinary dust in the studio. There is paper dust that clings to everything, flakes of gesso, messes of glue overspray. Charming. Who works here?

But I am finding little treasures as I plod along. Pictures of us camping, Harvest at the prom, Max and Zeke in Bar Harbor, our sweet terrier, Golem, Jake asleep on Russell. Billy smiling at the girl beside him, a girl whose name I cannot begin to remember. The pictures make me put the cleaning rag down and time travel. The studio is quiet, filled with sun and memories.

Then I go back to sorting charms, labeling boxes (I am so proud of my labels), tossing anything I haven't found a use for in the past 5 years.

Last night I had a dream that someone gave me a dog to help me feel better. It was sort of a Golden, but not quite, and it wore a red collar. The dog trotted in and out of the dream that had morphed into a story about an art show in a hospital. In my dream I gave up trying to find the show venue and went to sleep. In the morning, I went out to find the dog with the red collar. I called and called and dogs came. Little ones, big ones, a Dalmatian, a Great Dane. They started to fill the yard and still I called but the dog with the red collar was nowhere to be seen.

I woke with the image of a yard filled with dogs and the echo of the name I had been calling: "Jake! Jakey Boy! Come on!"

Yeah, I've never been one to have those Freudian dreams where the meaning was obscure and gauzy with metaphor.

I miss my dog.

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