The view from our town lake in Halcottsville, NY
I woke up from a scary dream this morning nice and early. The sensation was nothing unusual: Heart thumping, a feeling of thankfulness that it was just a dream, and some confusion.
The dream began in a diner-type restaurant in NYC, my hometown. The place was run by my old friends, most of whom I found again after years on Facebook. It was closing time as I sat on a couch and we all talked and laughed. Through all these glass doors I could see the city pulsating outside: Taxis, people crossing the street, and I could hear the rumble of the subway under the floorboards.
I got up and walked through a door to go into the kitchen and walked into this nice old farmhouse with the same type sliding glass doors all around me. In the distance I could see the tops of the Catskill Mountains on a hazy late summer afternoon. Just outside the doors was an old creaky, red wrap around porch. I stepped outside and basked in that beautiful glow. I walked off the porch and sat there, eating some snack out of a box that was lying on the ground. I then walked inside and sat on the couch.
As it got dark, I heard animal sounds outside near the area where I ate the snack. I opened the glass door and went right over… A mouse scurried and a bobcat, its head right in my box of food, jumped back and ran on the porch as I chased it off with a sock in my left hand. He scurried away, running in fear. I could see the fear in his eyes and knew I had him on the run, even though my heart pounded. He had nowhere to go and he stopped running and turned and faced me. We had a staredown. He stood there, watching my hand with the sock and I swatted him a couple of times. He recoiled. I woke up.
OK let’s take this apart a bit. NYC is apparent; I grew up there, it is my source of strength, and it’s where most of my friends and family still live. It will always be in my blood and I find it hard to live anywhere else after spending my life there. Melissa and I moved from NYC 18 days after 9/11 since she was 7 months pregnant with Jack and we feared what was in the air. We just thought we would move upstate, have the baby, and then move back after things calmed down.
We wound up buying a farmhouse with a rental property in a tiny Hamlet in the Catskill Mountains, plunged all our savings into fixing these damn houses, and spent 7 years up there in the middle of nowhere on and off. The Catskills are ancient, spiritual mountains considered by old Indians to be full of ghosts and strange, mysterious magic and strengths. I can see the reason for the Catskill setting in the dream: The mountains’ wild nature, their calm and serene setting make for a good, dramatic environment for this confrontation.
The bobcat was afraid. I was afraid too, but I was on the offensive. While I chased him around the porch I only thought of my kids and wanted to make sure they were OK, that they were locked up inside the house, away from this danger. Throughout this cancer journey of mine, I think about my kids more than I think of my own life or health. I worry about them all the time. I worry about not being here for them, about not seeing them grow up, and I worry about looking weak and cancerous to them as I battle this shitty disease. And then I get mad.
In the end, this dream is about confrontation, fear, and looking the cancer right in the eyes. I was not afraid of the bobcat. I was afraid for my family.
I just rode my bike for 25 minutes at an uphill climb.
With sock in hand, I will kill this bobcat.
The view from our town lake in Halcottsville, NY
I woke up from a scary dream this morning nice and early. The sensation was nothing unusual: Heart thumping, a feeling of thankfulness that it was just a dream, and some confusion.
The dream began in a diner-type restaurant in NYC, my hometown. The place was run by my old friends, most of whom I found again after years on Facebook. It was closing time as I sat on a couch and we all talked and laughed. Through all these glass doors I could see the city pulsating outside: Taxis, people crossing the street, and I could hear the rumble of the subway under the floorboards.
I got up and walked through a door to go into the kitchen and walked into this nice old farmhouse with the same type sliding glass doors all around me. In the distance I could see the tops of the Catskill Mountains on a hazy late summer afternoon. Just outside the doors was an old creaky, red wrap around porch. I stepped outside and basked in that beautiful glow. I walked off the porch and sat there, eating some snack out of a box that was lying on the ground. I then walked inside and sat on the couch.
As it got dark, I heard animal sounds outside near the area where I ate the snack. I opened the glass door and went right over… A mouse scurried and a bobcat, its head right in my box of food, jumped back and ran on the porch as I chased it off with a sock in my left hand. He scurried away, running in fear. I could see the fear in his eyes and knew I had him on the run, even though my heart pounded. He had nowhere to go and he stopped running and turned and faced me. We had a staredown. He stood there, watching my hand with the sock and I swatted him a couple of times. He recoiled. I woke up.
OK let’s take this apart a bit. NYC is apparent; I grew up there, it is my source of strength, and it’s where most of my friends and family still live. It will always be in my blood and I find it hard to live anywhere else after spending my life there. Melissa and I moved from NYC 18 days after 9/11 since she was 7 months pregnant with Jack and we feared what was in the air. We just thought we would move upstate, have the baby, and then move back after things calmed down.
We wound up buying a farmhouse with a rental property in a tiny Hamlet in the Catskill Mountains, plunged all our savings into fixing these damn houses, and spent 7 years up there in the middle of nowhere on and off. The Catskills are ancient, spiritual mountains considered by old Indians to be full of ghosts and strange, mysterious magic and strengths. I can see the reason for the Catskill setting in the dream: The mountains’ wild nature, their calm and serene setting make for a good, dramatic environment for this confrontation.
The bobcat was afraid. I was afraid too, but I was on the offensive. While I chased him around the porch I only thought of my kids and wanted to make sure they were OK, that they were locked up inside the house, away from this danger. Throughout this cancer journey of mine, I think about my kids more than I think of my own life or health. I worry about them all the time. I worry about not being here for them, about not seeing them grow up, and I worry about looking weak and cancerous to them as I battle this shitty disease. And then I get mad.
In the end, this dream is about confrontation, fear, and looking the cancer right in the eyes. I was not afraid of the bobcat. I was afraid for my family.
I just rode my bike for 25 minutes at an uphill climb.
With sock in hand, I will kill this bobcat.
The view from our town lake in Halcottsville, NY
I woke up from a scary dream this morning nice and early. The sensation was nothing unusual: Heart thumping, a feeling of thankfulness that it was just a dream, and some confusion.
The dream began in a diner-type restaurant in NYC, my hometown. The place was run by my old friends, most of whom I found again after years on Facebook. It was closing time as I sat on a couch and we all talked and laughed. Through all these glass doors I could see the city pulsating outside: Taxis, people crossing the street, and I could hear the rumble of the subway under the floorboards.
I got up and walked through a door to go into the kitchen and walked into this nice old farmhouse with the same type sliding glass doors all around me. In the distance I could see the tops of the Catskill Mountains on a hazy late summer afternoon. Just outside the doors was an old creaky, red wrap around porch. I stepped outside and basked in that beautiful glow. I walked off the porch and sat there, eating some snack out of a box that was lying on the ground. I then walked inside and sat on the couch.
As it got dark, I heard animal sounds outside near the area where I ate the snack. I opened the glass door and went right over… A mouse scurried and a bobcat, its head right in my box of food, jumped back and ran on the porch as I chased it off with a sock in my left hand. He scurried away, running in fear. I could see the fear in his eyes and knew I had him on the run, even though my heart pounded. He had nowhere to go and he stopped running and turned and faced me. We had a staredown. He stood there, watching my hand with the sock and I swatted him a couple of times. He recoiled. I woke up.
OK let’s take this apart a bit. NYC is apparent; I grew up there, it is my source of strength, and it’s where most of my friends and family still live. It will always be in my blood and I find it hard to live anywhere else after spending my life there. Melissa and I moved from NYC 18 days after 9/11 since she was 7 months pregnant with Jack and we feared what was in the air. We just thought we would move upstate, have the baby, and then move back after things calmed down.
We wound up buying a farmhouse with a rental property in a tiny Hamlet in the Catskill Mountains, plunged all our savings into fixing these damn houses, and spent 7 years up there in the middle of nowhere on and off. The Catskills are ancient, spiritual mountains considered by old Indians to be full of ghosts and strange, mysterious magic and strengths. I can see the reason for the Catskill setting in the dream: The mountains’ wild nature, their calm and serene setting make for a good, dramatic environment for this confrontation.
The bobcat was afraid. I was afraid too, but I was on the offensive. While I chased him around the porch I only thought of my kids and wanted to make sure they were OK, that they were locked up inside the house, away from this danger. Throughout this cancer journey of mine, I think about my kids more than I think of my own life or health. I worry about them all the time. I worry about not being here for them, about not seeing them grow up, and I worry about looking weak and cancerous to them as I battle this shitty disease. And then I get mad.
In the end, this dream is about confrontation, fear, and looking the cancer right in the eyes. I was not afraid of the bobcat. I was afraid for my family.
I just rode my bike for 25 minutes at an uphill climb.
With sock in hand, I will kill this bobcat.