I woke up this morning half convinced my father was dead, so to snap out of it I went for a nice hard run up and down, up and down the only hill in town. It was this dream I had around four a.m. where a really scary witch doctor came to my house and threatened me with a long stick covered in dirty grave rags. I was scared, but not scared quite the way you would be if the grim reaper had come for you. The witch doctor wasn't there for me, it (male, female, I can't be sure) was there for my father in the next room. It was more like being a spectator at a grim reaping, startling and alarming at first but gradually less so.
The vets home where dad is going says it hasn't even gotten his application from the county, where we filed it over 10 days ago. I'm about ready to check into the Holiday Inn. At the risk of revealing myself as a bad daughter and a horrible person all round, I want to tell the VA people that I don't actually get along with my father, that I'm doing this because there's no one else to do it and I've already earned enough good karma, thank you, they can take him away now (or yesterday). Good God when will this be over?
2 comments:
Creepy dream, man.
Hang in there -- hard to imagine a more unpleasant situation, and you seem to be handling it like a champ.
It was creepy. I think the technical term is "fucked up shit", as in "that is some ...."
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