I Dream of Jinx

Yesterday I got a series of phone calls from London and that was cool. An old friend was listening to me play records that I used to play when we were housemates long ago.
Nice cycle, that.

Then I got a phone call from southern France, which was odd- who do I know in France?

Well, I'll be damned.
I thought you wuz in Australia!
Haven't seen you in ages- you found me on the internet?
Hahah! I guess it helps that my phone number hasn't changed in ten years.
I thought you were dead- you've been reading my blog and you haven't said anything till now ? You ass!
Last time we spoke, I was still drinking...oh.
That's why you stopped calling.
...I said that?
Sorry, mate, I really am.
The booze...
Yep, 17 months sober! You have been reading...how've you been?
Oh man.
That's bloody awful.
No?
You mean it's all sorted in your favor? Kids too?
Well bloody good job! Ha hah, I'm already talking like you!

Here, since you are paying for the call , let me spend 20 minutes telling you about how much better my life is right now - of course, I'm bloody sober, let me finish- a lot of good things have happened, even the bad stuff is damned funny in hindsight...

la la lala la la la la life is good and I go to bed feeling like Monday might not suck.

I step into the shower and notice the shampoo runs right through my fingers.
Shampoo?
I shave my head almost every day. I don't own shampoo.
I look down and my hands are skeletal, the shampoo runs across my bony knuckles and drips onto a mass of wet brown hair at my feet...holy crap, that's my hair!
Now there's blood.
What's going on?

When I wake up I'm covered in sweat even though the covers are on the floor.
Someone has placed one of those Roadrunner cartoon Acme anvils ("16 tons") on my chest and it's making it hard to breathe.
Just because I can't see this anvil doesn't mean it isn't there. The sun is rising and slowly the weight lightens enough for me to make it downstairs and gobble a couple of panic pills. I haven't needed them for a couple weeks, but I am glad I have them.

I need to piss , shave , shower and get ready for work but that dream was too vivid- I'm not ready to enter my bathroom yet.
That bathroom is where I started dying and sometimes I think I should move just to get away from it.

I sit downstairs in silence and pretend to read an old Superman comic; eventually my breath returns to normal and I call into work. My boss knows that I have days like this and agrees that it's better that I not come in after taking my emergency meds.

By noon the drugs are working and I'm fine, just tired ... I see that I have received an email from a beloved High School friend- I want to tell her about all the great new things that I'm feeling, because overall things really are good, but I'm afraid I'll jinx myself if I share too much good news.

Pretty strange sentiment coming from someone who disdains superstition.