Where I Went

I had a hemorrhahic stroke in December 2017, and remember little of that December or much of January 2018. I lived in la-la land for those two months, but I had an extremely vivid dream life during that period. 

Here a sampling of where I “went” for those two months, for those interested: 

—A ranch-style house in New Jersey.  I am a Jewish doctor, maybe a psychiatrist. 

—-I am the same doctor, this time with an office high in a big building in New York City. 

—I am in a messy houseboat with some people I know (hoarders?) in lower Manhattan. 

—This one happened at least twice. The Bercholzes (my former employers) live on a fancy houseboat in the Boston area. They throw a party which represents how parties are supposed to BE now—I thought this is in connection with a Roost book about parties. But it is unsuccessful. The party, and the book, are major flops.  You can’t force parties into a particular mold. Even if you KNOW how they are supposed to go. 

—There is a tiny apartment near a Pacific Coast beach town (Santa Cruz?).  I think I committed a murder here or I was murdered. 

—There is a prison in North Carolina in which I am incarcerated, but it is in a historic house. We prisoners must lie very quietly next to each other on communal beds until the alarm goes off at midnight. I do this at least twice.  The prison is run by a young man (bearded) and his wife, both of whom believe strongly in capital punishment. They are going to execute ME and even hook me up, but I know I will not die, and I give them some sort of anti-capital-punishment papers.  Which makes them reconsider. And I find I wish I knew what the papers said! They invite me to their house for a dinner party.  It is also an historic house. I am surprised we have mutual acquaintances. Mostly from the world of theology. 

—My friend, Nino, wants Shambhala to publish some poetry he has discovered by a Korean woman. This is all very subterranean and full of water. Thinking back, I find I can remember the sound of water—the drips—and the poetry in the woman’s voice. It is indeed very good. Nino is right. 

—Eric, my husband, and I are looking for a free, regular, meal in the south. It might be South  Carolina or Georgia. We have to wait in a small, side room. We eventually get it. 

—I am with Peggy and Ekaterina Asabina in a clinic in the Chesapeake Bay Area.  We do group therapy there. 

—I am with Peggy, my sister, and Gina, my cousin, in various fast-food restaurants in California.  There is apparently some outfit that recreates my childhood. 

—I am with some California cousins, Michael and Carolyn, somewhere in the southwest. This reminds me a bit of that movie (can’t remember the title) with Salma Hayek and John Lithgow.  They have a blue-eyed grandson, which is somehow very auspicious. 

—I am in the top of the Chrysler building. Decorating something with ornaments that looks like the jungle gym I used to play on around first grade. 

—I am staying in a rest home (this one is in Colorado! I can see the sun!) with Larry Rosenberg, a former meditation teacher, and his friend. I can stay only as long as I can do cleaning. Fortunately, I can hover/float and clean. 

—There is a video I am made to watch. An unknown  chubby guy is telling me that stroke victims can forget all of their previous life, and can live a full life only going forward. The chubby guy changes to Eric at some point.  I can make a whole new life! 

I woke up late in January 2018 with Tamar, a friend, already there and with Sherab and Judi, other friends, in my room. Though it is my first recollection of them, I know it is not their first visit and I behave accordingly.  Then I was airlifted to Boston and to Spaulding. And though I then had septic shock and surgery, I was mostly “there” from then on.  When I had septic shock, and was shaking uncontrollably, I thought I went to a doctor in some mall, and my friends, Alice Carter and Zhanna Stalbo, were there! Zhanna was likely translating so I must have been speaking Russian! And I also thought I went, with Eric, to an all-night Jewish Renewal service.  This was so vivid, so real, that I was sure the Spaulding nurses were in on it!  But no matter where I was from the end of January 2018, my sense of time was accurate. 

After Spaulding, I went to Meadow Green skilled nursing, then to MGH for more surgery, and, finally, home.