Wednesday, June 20, 2007

I Hear Dead People

Sometimes, in bed, with the fans running, muffling the outside noises, in the darkness of my room, as I teeter on the edge between sleep and wake, I hear conversations. Just snippets really. Voices in the dark.

And, unlike when I feel there is someone in the room with me, it isn't creepy and disturbing. In fact, it's almost comforting. The voices are soothing, like late-night lovers talking to each other in drippy sleep-filled murmurs.

Someone, I don't remember who, once said, "Vuboq, the only person interested in your dreams is you." Ever since then, I've tried to keep my dreamstories to a minimum ... except when they are frequent and recurring.

Because that usually means something is pricking at my subconscious, and typing it out helps me sort things through. For the past few days, my dreams have dealt with something I've been thinking about quite a lot recently: coming out to my parents.

I should have done it a long time ago. It's something I should do today ... or tomorrow ... or next week ... or never. The time never seems right. And my courage never seems strong.

I'm not really sure what I'm afraid of - losing their love? Seeing their disappointment? Having to answer all "the questions?"

As Billy (I think, or was it Diablo?) wrote one time "A life lived in fear is a life half lived" (or something like that).

On a completely different note, I've spent the morning trying to imagine what Death would feel like (no, I'm not suicidal). I mean, what it would feel like in a "literary" sense. If one were to write about Death, how should he describe it?

At first, I was thinking of something like "the icy hand of Death." Death has always seemed cold. But, the more I think about it now, I feel like Death should be hot. Like it should burn. Or be a hot, dry desert wind. Or maybe the steamy muggy humidity of an Eastern NC swamp.

And, if you can't tell, I have a story idea bouncing around in my head. Too many ideas, too small a brain.



  1. Coming out to one's parents is never fun, especially if they are heavily involved in a conservative religion. I wish that I could give a gleaming sunshiny prediction and say that it will be a breezy conversation that will end in hugs and champaign. Instead, it's likely to be traumatic, painful, and awkward. This reality is what keeps you from having "the talk."

    Still, it's something that simply has to be done. For one, you can finally mark it off the list of tasking things that you need to do. For another, it's the only road to a good LTR. Unless you plan on never speaking or seeing your family again, most potential partners won't enjoy being shut-out during holidays or playing the roommate whenever parents phone.

    The upside is that you have lots of friends (virtual and real-life) who care about you and would support you through the whole process. Or, at the very least, they would buy you lots of liquor.

    As for Death, people who are on the verge of freezing to death always report feeling warm. I imagine most death must feel that way. It's only cold to the people left behind.

  2. Even for me, with a minimal stake in how it actually changes the opinion of my parents towards me, I still haven't done it.

    I think death will feel like being pulled down into a lukewarm black sea. We'll hear bells, or voices, and a low roar... we'll swirl downwards into the vortex of the beyond.

    No, I'm not morbid.

  3. gayprof said it all about the coming out to your parents thing. how eloquent, all of it.

    yay gayprof!

  4. Yeah, ditto what Gayprof said. It's gotta be done. Notify us in advance and we'll all spend the day sending you good vibes!

  5. i also wonder about death often. and like you, i'm not suicidal.

    maybe death doesn't feel anything physically? isn't the departure from the physical after all?