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Catherine Fischer

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Dreams, Again [Feb. 25th, 2003|11:23 am]
Catherine Fischer
Last night I dreamed of war: I was tying up loose ends, telling the people I was acting in a movie for that I wouldn’t be able to continue, writing last letters, buying whatever supplies were still available. Kevin & I lived in the mountains, beside a small tributary to a large river; I was writing our friend Jen, who lived beside a different and distant tributary of the same river, telling her we hoped we’d find some sign of her downriver, when all was over. My sister, whose husband is a Navy pilot, was in mourning; there was the dull ache of grief and loss at the back of my heart when I thought of my brother-in-law, who we all assumed was lost. Then Kevin & I were in a surplus store, buying blankets for the upcoming nuclear winter, and heavy cloaks which were in stock; many frenzied people in the store were buying stacks of blankets, hoping to keep their roofs from burning in the fallout.

Here on this distant soil, my subconscious expresses the worry and impotent misery I feel, watching the terrible decisions being made by the fools who ostensibly lead my country. I have never been so ashamed of being American; how can such buffoons possibly represent me, or anyone like me, or anyone intelligent and educated, for that matter? Our current government is the ultimate slap in the face to the intelligentsia. What happened to our education system being a source of pride? Why must we flaunt our ignorance? I’ve begun my day with such a sense of impending doom it makes my skin crawl.

Wherever you are, Paul, I wish you well and safe and happy (at least as happy as you can be, stuck on a floating city with the equivalent of high school gym class for company).

This is why I only listen to the local Caribbean news. (“This morning’s edition of health tips: care for the elderly. The elderly person should have a comfortable and safe environment…” All delivered in a heavily-accented, halting voice by one of the local nurses, obviously reading from a script. And followed by the cricket match summary, and then a song about how to prevent getting HIV. I love Caribbean radio.)