Wednesday, April 10, 2019

Anxiety Dream

How perverse!—when I’m asleep, I arrange
scenarios of frustration—I can’t
find my grandparents’ house in Chicago—
trying to type my wife’s name into my
phone so she’ll tell me the address. I played
that game with myself early this morning—
my fitbit shows a 30-minute REM
occurrence between 7 and 7:
30. Why do I gaslight myself like
this? Did I think if I knew the number
I’d ever be able to spot it on
a house? First, there’d be the street-name hurdle—
how could I ever find the street, as far
as I’ve now wandered, and without a map?