A beautiful Dream Time piece. Lovely in its pleasant memories, the snippets that call us back to good things that happened, especially feeling your father thinking of you. Straight to the sternum with this one, Tonya. Thank you. Hope you're feeling healthier. Your illness gave you a gift, though.
You have perfectly caught the focused memory-wash that comes only when our body is sick and our mind is time traveling… and the moment we know we’re on the mend—not All Better yet, but ready to return slowly to Now.
And you created this piece on top of it. Tonya, you are amazingly creative, Thank you for this. I found myself falling backward as I read the wonderful prose. But then, it catapulted my recent hospital bed stay that ended recently after 6 days of being tortured until I was hallucinating as I exited the front door into the real life of the city. In a taxi, I lay my head down on my husband's lap, unable to see the trees and sunlight. A dark cement wall zooming into my face, a ball of rats, writhing on top. The death bed so close that I had just escaped. My grave, in fact. Glory be to a real night's sleep, being unwoken every three hours for more needles and bloodwork, no veins left, my ports collapsed and broke, threw my blood around and soaked my hospital gown and bed. A nurse walked in once and was wowed by the city view. I felt angry enough to hit her, but instead, held my anger in. Being sick is monstrous, especially when unobservant dimwits don't even feel they're in the way, or that you even are alive and exist. And to top it off, you exist to create and be alive and have real memories of beauty and tenderness and laughter, of green grass and loving parents, and crystals hung from windows waiting for the sun. Great piece Tonya. So real to me of late, when I have had trouble dealing with my stay in the ER and then high above the city, so alone, in my room with the "what a gorgeous view!" the new nurse said. The one where I'd nearly bled out in the middle of the night. And the night before toured the underworld with a guy who belonged to "transport." Where at 11pm, he guided my gurney miles inside the compound for an MRI that lasted an hour and a half, before he transported me back to my room with the view. I apologize for downloading here on your piece. Still so close that rough experience now 22 days behind me. Thank you anyway, for stimulating my need and allowing me to let it out. Yours was not a delight, though your writing is always and so sure. Constance
I'm so glad the piece gave you a little dose of sunshine, Connie. And thank god you're out of that awful experience. You painted it so clearly, it made me shiver. Hospitals can be truly terrifying places. Grateful that you escaped back to home and love.
"arrived in a state of ascension (held lightly, so willing to be forgotten) in the course of those waking dreams" microbe induced altered states of consciousness - where are they taking us??
Tonya, thank you for taking us along on your "sick" journey! Now I am imagining "tasting the beyond", your giving me too many consciousness expanding opportunities for my confined mind to take in, and sparking fears of what the neighbors will think if they see me walking around with my tongue hanging out. Be well!
Describes beautifully those moments during illness that are simply sweet surrender of suffering and pain that ‘almost-sleep’ brings. The pleasure of slipping away. Love it!
Wonderful, Tonya! It kicked up the saudade I love - that aching nostalgia for a time gone by. I had totally forgotten about that quirky "upside" of illness! Sure, discomfort was involved, but oh the pained loveliness of being necessarily stuck in one place, with that idle twilight sleep I adore. & that crystal talisman, with the past & present represented in it. So friggin' beautiful. Thank you!
Isn't it sad that it takes an illness to grant permission to take that time for ourselves.
Oh, I know. I was thinking about that too. I know exactly how great it is for me to rest. But I just won't do it until I'm forced to.
A beautiful Dream Time piece. Lovely in its pleasant memories, the snippets that call us back to good things that happened, especially feeling your father thinking of you. Straight to the sternum with this one, Tonya. Thank you. Hope you're feeling healthier. Your illness gave you a gift, though.
The posting of this piece seems to have lifted the last couple symptoms, so I'm feeling happy today. Thanks so much, Sue.
Amazing how writing can cure the most devilish maladies.
You have perfectly caught the focused memory-wash that comes only when our body is sick and our mind is time traveling… and the moment we know we’re on the mend—not All Better yet, but ready to return slowly to Now.
I love your memories of your parents.😍
Thanks so much, Kathryn!
And you created this piece on top of it. Tonya, you are amazingly creative, Thank you for this. I found myself falling backward as I read the wonderful prose. But then, it catapulted my recent hospital bed stay that ended recently after 6 days of being tortured until I was hallucinating as I exited the front door into the real life of the city. In a taxi, I lay my head down on my husband's lap, unable to see the trees and sunlight. A dark cement wall zooming into my face, a ball of rats, writhing on top. The death bed so close that I had just escaped. My grave, in fact. Glory be to a real night's sleep, being unwoken every three hours for more needles and bloodwork, no veins left, my ports collapsed and broke, threw my blood around and soaked my hospital gown and bed. A nurse walked in once and was wowed by the city view. I felt angry enough to hit her, but instead, held my anger in. Being sick is monstrous, especially when unobservant dimwits don't even feel they're in the way, or that you even are alive and exist. And to top it off, you exist to create and be alive and have real memories of beauty and tenderness and laughter, of green grass and loving parents, and crystals hung from windows waiting for the sun. Great piece Tonya. So real to me of late, when I have had trouble dealing with my stay in the ER and then high above the city, so alone, in my room with the "what a gorgeous view!" the new nurse said. The one where I'd nearly bled out in the middle of the night. And the night before toured the underworld with a guy who belonged to "transport." Where at 11pm, he guided my gurney miles inside the compound for an MRI that lasted an hour and a half, before he transported me back to my room with the view. I apologize for downloading here on your piece. Still so close that rough experience now 22 days behind me. Thank you anyway, for stimulating my need and allowing me to let it out. Yours was not a delight, though your writing is always and so sure. Constance
I'm so glad the piece gave you a little dose of sunshine, Connie. And thank god you're out of that awful experience. You painted it so clearly, it made me shiver. Hospitals can be truly terrifying places. Grateful that you escaped back to home and love.
"arrived in a state of ascension (held lightly, so willing to be forgotten) in the course of those waking dreams" microbe induced altered states of consciousness - where are they taking us??
Exactly! I like to think it's a little taste of the "beyond" maybe. Thanks, Tom
Tonya, thank you for taking us along on your "sick" journey! Now I am imagining "tasting the beyond", your giving me too many consciousness expanding opportunities for my confined mind to take in, and sparking fears of what the neighbors will think if they see me walking around with my tongue hanging out. Be well!
Describes beautifully those moments during illness that are simply sweet surrender of suffering and pain that ‘almost-sleep’ brings. The pleasure of slipping away. Love it!
Thanks so much, Christopher!
Wonderful, Tonya! It kicked up the saudade I love - that aching nostalgia for a time gone by. I had totally forgotten about that quirky "upside" of illness! Sure, discomfort was involved, but oh the pained loveliness of being necessarily stuck in one place, with that idle twilight sleep I adore. & that crystal talisman, with the past & present represented in it. So friggin' beautiful. Thank you!
I'm so happy it resonated, Ellen. Thank you!