On the Beach

Ok, ok...the bagpipers were not nearly as bad as thought- it was a marching troupe w/ drummers etc...the Celtic Fest was great. Saw some really nice smaller groups at tents scattered all over Grant Park, even got a brief introduction to the harp ( not the harmonica) and decided that I want to add it to my list of instruments played.
Sweet.

There was a travel services tent set up and I saw a photo of a secluded rocky beach that that looked almost exactly like a beach I sometimes visit in my less disturbing dreams- I had thought it was a mnemonic holdover from a long-ago visit to the Pacific NW or Maine, but it this pic was from Cornwall. The resemblance stopped me dead in my tracks.
My brother thought something was wrong.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing...I've been to this place before. Many times, in my dreams. My cat walks around with me and tells me secrets- it's pretty cool, really. Just can't get over how much this looks like that place- minus all the sun-bathers , of course. In my dream , it's deserted and you need to know where hidden path is to get there...that's where the cat comes in."

"Uh. Ok." Bryan is used to hearing me saying weird shit.

His friend listens to me and adds:

" I dream too- except I'm awake and and I see all the people who have lost their bodies and are looking for new ones. They try to look me in the eye and take my body- they got washed up the river and died, but it's so hot where they are from I sweat when they see me- they are everywhere- I'm feeling controlled down here... I want to go home now and make sure a gas leak hasn't killed my puppy...street musicians are being contrlolled from above, too ... "

Uh oh. I like to think I know when I sound crazy, that much of how I express myself is for effect, somewhat tongue-in-cheek , and not a sign of waxing schizophrenia- but what she is saying is scary and truly nuts. I've seen plenty of really ill persons in my time and this poor girl is one of them. The years and years of crack abuse have not helped.

We leave much earlier than I would have had I been alone. The Twin is shaken and drained by all this crazy, but he loves her, so I know better than to tell him how I feel about trying to save addicted andcrazy people from themselves

We get deep dish pizza, and that helps our mood a lot.

Strangely, this close exposure to someone who is so truly and profoundly dissassociated from reality is almost as comforting as it is disturbing- I sometimes wonder if perhaps I too have "gone off the deep end"-but I haven't, I don't think.

Still, the image of that beach haunts me. There's something to this and it's not insanity, but I don't pretend to understand what it really is. It feels good, safe, familar, calm - not scary and freaked-out.

I want to be on that beach.