Dreaming of my dead dog (my fault)...

Hard to believe that my favorite dog ever, Sockeye, died approximately 10 years ago, because it certainly doesn't feel like that long ago, and maybe I'm wrong or my mind is somewhat screwed up, and my mind is terrible with timing, but...

I tried to look up (on facebook) when Sockeye had died, but my fb Life Events seem to have been erased (see my blog post below this one for more thoughts on that...), which made me feel tempted to leave the fb platform (because if they're trying to erase individual's life events, then what else will they try to erase?...) etc...

But I did see an old photo of mine, which gave me the impression that Sockeye had died about 10 years ago, which is hard to believe, but...

The reason I was trying to remember the timing of his death was because Sockeye unexpectedly appeared in one of my dreams Sunday.

In the dream, Sockeye was in a small cage, in a bedroom, in the dark, and I felt guilty that he was in the cage, but unsure if I was the one who had (somehow inadvertently) caged him. (I did not choose to regularly place him in small cages in my real life. The only time he was caged was when he was a puppy and we temporarily kept him in a decent sized cage in the bedroom when we went to bed and when I/he was in someone else's house who wanted/needed him caged).

So in this dream, I wasn't sure if I was in my own bedroom or someone else's bedroom. I felt confused. Because if it was my own bedroom, then why would my own adult dog be in a cage? Because dogs in cages seem kind of like hell to me. Because if you don't want a dog (or cat or other pet) around you, then just don't get a dog. Because adults caging other adults seems like a horrific control freak horror fest.

Dreams don't always make logical sense (although neither do many parts of so-called reality these days), so I figured the disconcerting cage was in my bedroom (for whatever illogical reasons), since Sockeye was there. Maybe my bedroom had somehow changed. But my uncertain feelings about the situation caused me to feel overly anxious, bordering on panicky.

I removed Sockeye from the cage and realized he needed to go outside. I thought I had taken him outside. But then suddenly I was inside another somewhat unfamiliar small room in front of my computer and his leash was hanging out of the door, but he wasn't attached to his leash and it was my fault. I thought I had put his leash on him, a leash with a long cord, and affixed the cord to the door so he couldn't go terribly far, but either I had forgotten to attach the cord to the leash or something unexpected had happened, and I was either lazy or overly confused or ridiculously discombobulated or SOMETHING, for not going outside with my dog.

And now he was disconnected from his leash or cord or me. And as soon as I noticed the disconnection, I hurried outside to try to find him before it was too late.

And there was snow on the ground and the atmosphere/air/sky seemed to be quickly changing from light to dark.

There was a growling sound in the distance and I wasn't sure if it was Sockeye growling at another creature or another creature growling at Sockeye or if my mind was making it up. But as far as I can recall, in real life, Sockeye didn't growl. But maybe I don't recall correctly. But what is correct? 

The dream's outdoor location resembled my parent's long back yard, and it's not too uncommon for them to see deer there, so maybe Sockeye had unexpectedly encountered a deer, but I don't think deer growl (but maybe I'm wrong), but nor did my Boston Terrier (but maybe I'm wrong), and I didn't know what I should do, other than walk toward the growling sound and call his name, because then if he heard me, maybe he'd leave a potential attack scene. I didn't want anyone to be attacked, injured, or killed just because they ended up in the wrong space at the wrong time (and especially if I was the one who had accidentally gotten them into that space).

When I first stepped outside in this dream, to see if I could see him, I started walking though snow, calling his name, but the horizon seemed to shift very quickly. My initial reaction was that maybe when I had stepped outside to try to find him was right when the horizon was shifting from light to dark. But then I thought, the horizon doesn't shift from light to dark THAT fast. So I'm either suddenly losing my vision or I'm about to have a seizure in the snow or both.

I'll wake up in the snow and my dog will be lost forever.

And it will be my fault.

And I won't be able to see.

And I will be freezing.

I woke up from the dream but then a few past memories were in my head and one of them was my fault.

When Doves Cry

I didn't realize I linked to something that was 1 out of 100+ videos. I only meant to link to "When Doves Cry".

A friend's dad died last week - I took a quick peek online today before heading to visit my grandma and saw that Prince had died - at my grandma's house, there often seems to be obituary talk and death talk (and today's obituaries included a friend of my grandma's, a woman my parents had gone to high school with, and my friend's dad, ranging in age from 60's to late 80's - and a comment was made about how if you make it past your 60's, you'll probably live pretty long - and then you think of people you've encountered in their 80s with dementia who seem like they don't even enjoy life and don't even really want to be alive any longer) - and then you're hearing about your grandpa who passed away two years ago - and then you're thinking about how you only have one grandparent left and your dad only has one sibling left and has lived to be older than every single member of his immediate family and he's only in his mid-60s.

After leaving your grandma's house, you stop at Dunkin' Donuts for a coffee and their TV is showing news footage about Prince, who was only 57 and was still touring and performing and now he is suddenly dead.

When you get home, you try to decide what Prince song to post on your facebook page and you choose one of your favorites from the Purple Rain album, because you loved the whole album when it came out and still really like it, but you accidentally post a link to 100+ different videos and feel annoyed at yourself.

Right after you post it, while you're listening to the song, you get a casual email and feel angry about death death death death quickly preceded by another casual email.

I'm not sure why all my I's are you's. Maybe that's annoying too. I'm not you. You're not me. You probably wouldn't want to be.

I am still missing my dog (who died less than 3 months ago) and I tend to feel silly mentioning my dog in conjunction with human death, but frankly I could relate to my dog better than I can relate to a lot of humans and whenever another human death happens, I think of my dog - and I think of how I don't have a will - and I think of how all my silly artsy stuff will probably just be pitched after I die - and three minutes later, people will be quickly typing more casual emails.

New Yellow Chair Review Issue 6 (with my poem, "Even Little Things Can Get Too Heavy" inside it)

Yellow Chair Review Issue 6 is HERE! - 

https://issuu.com/yellowchairreview/docs/issue6-1

My poem "Even Little Things Can Get Too Heavy" appears on page 101. 

It is inspired by my dog, Sockeye, written a few weeks before he died.

My Sockeye (Sad News)

Sockeye Cook, 2004-February 9, 2016

My home feels empty now and is going to for a long time.

Happy Holidays!

*

Just in case you're in the mood for yet another Best of 2009 list, here's a little article about some of my favorite poetry chapbooks and books of the year (sorry, I'm not motivated enough to attempt a whole decade list):

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/2532369/top_five_poetry_books_and_poetry_chapbooks.html?cat=38

*

Blood Pudding Press in the etsy Gift Guides Showcase today. Ring in the New Year with poetry!

http://www.etsy.com/showcase.php?showcase_id=7

surgery

I had an awful little dream last night, in which I had to perform some sort of surgery upon my Boston Terrier. I had to use an implement that looked like a large pizza cutter to make an incision around the perimeter of his body, beginning at the white underside of his throat and then all the way around, along each of his sides towards the back and under his tail. I dreamed two consecutive variations of this same dream.

In both versions, Sockeye was not anesthetized, but neither was he squirming or squealing. I was just holding him in place as I cut and he was just looking at me with a fearful yet trusting, baleful expression, one of the most excruciating details of the dream. In the first variation, I performed the cutting procedure correctly.

In the second variation, I botched it, cutting into the wrong area of his body. I then proceeded to act casual, as if nothing amiss had happened, even though I was secretly aware that my bungled surgery might cost my dog his life. Even as he continued to balefully gaze at me, I failed to react swiftly to my own mistake, acting as if I pretended it hadn't happened, then this reality might not exist. It was disturbing and I wonder what this dream is saying about my real life.

I also wonder if this dream was at least partly catalyzed by my inexplicable failure to open a can of tuna fish correctly the other night. I spent at least five minutes and two can openers in my struggle with this can, thinking that my can opener was bent out of shape, then thinking that the can itself was somehow warped, before I solicited the assistance of my husband, who promptly informed me that my difficulty was due to the fact I had been trying to open the bottom of the can rather than the top. Then he asked me if I thougtht I should get a brain scan.

What do you think?