I was in a house. There were so many people there. It was sort of the ABD crew, and then some. People from my past... people whom I don't know but I know are out there in the world (brother of a good friend I've never met). It was late. I had arrived from out of a stormy night, looking for my dad. I guess this was his house, but it didn't look anything like the house he lives in now.
Besides the physical house being different, the other big difference is that this house wasn't clean the way dad and Diane keep their house. They keep their house immaculately clean. This house had dishes in the sink and because there was a party going on, there were bottles and stuff everywhere. It was quite trashed, in fact.
I was hungry, but I knew my dad would call me out for grazing instead of putting together a full meal, if I tried to nibble on anything. So I selectively stole a tortellini from out of the fridge and gulped it down before anyone could see.
Andrew was there suddenly and he asked me if he could spend the night. I realized that it meant that he'd have to sleep in my bed with me, which gave me pause for two reasons: One, I'd have to explain to Dan that Andrew just needed a place to sleep, and Two, I'd have to convince my Dad that it was innocent. The topic got dropped when I noticed that people were raiding the kitchen in search of food. Many were sitting down with plates in front of them and all sorts of random snacks, chaotically stacked on the plates. There were pink marshmallow disks, broken crackers, and pistachio shells. I balked at the odd combination, noting that this wasn't going to fulfill my hunger.
As I looked around the table, I found it hilarious that each plate of stuff was being treated like a sculpture. People were stacking the odds and ends in funny ways and it was really entertaining. I realized that everyone must be really fucked up. And they were. A joke started rolling around about saggy breasts. I'm not sure how it started, but then women throughout the party were showing off their breasts and laughing about whose were the wrinkliest and saggiest. Diane was laughing as well. She was wandering about the party, having a gay old time, apparently. Dad was also having a great time. I'd never seen them so relaxed in an environment so alien to them. It was nice to have their company and welcoming attitudes. I came to the conclusion that they must be fucked up as well. There was no way they could be letting this kind of destruction occur in their house, without a care.
Seeing them so relaxed and joyous got me more relaxed and I decided that I wanted to socialize a little more. I even got a little feisty. I was threatening to text photos of my breasts to some cute boys at the party.
Eventually I decided to wander around, in search of a bowl to smoke. Upon wandering, I discovered that there was a downstairs. But it wasn't just a basement. It was practically a labyrinth. It was cold but surprisingly light - as if it was daytime down there, though I couldn't determine the source of the light. It was dank and had many strange things hanging out of nooks and forgotten along the hallways.
It seemed as if no one had been down there in an incredibly long time.
I came upon a display of cool feathers. Perhaps they were once used in a large flower arrangement or something. They were unlike any feathers I had ever seen and instantly I decided to put one in my hair. I managed to get one loose and pulled it out to put it in my hair, but then I realized it was covered in a teeming mass of freshly hatched baby spiders. Many of them were falling off the mass onto me, so I quickly dropped the feather. It was an audible splat as the mass of spiders hit the cement floor. I was wearing shorts and I could feel the invisible threads of the spider silk all over my legs. It gave me the willies and I started to walk away, slapping at my legs and doing the creeped-out-by-spiders-on-my-body dance.
Further down the hallway, I saw a skeleton. It was small, but had clearly been there a very long time. It was the skeleton of a house cat and it was in incredible condition. It had fully decomposed and all that was left was the clean bones. I was so excited, I wanted to take the skull, but then I saw other curious things down the long hallway and decided to look more and then grab this on the way back.
I also noticed at this time that I had a glass pipe in my hand. But it didn't contain herb, it was full of partially smoked DMT. I vaguely remember Skoi handing it to me after taking a hit.
Further down the hallway, strange things were scattered. Pieces of clothing, child's toys, signs that someone once lived down here. At the end of the hall I entered a bedroom. The bed had a blanket on it, but overall looked like it hadn't been used in decades. It was dusty and cob-webby and not at all inviting. But I wanted somewhere safe and comfortable to smoke the DMT. I didn't know how much was in the pipe, or how strong it would be, but I didn't want to take chances.
Some other people had come downstairs - I could hear voices in the hallway. I didn't pay them much mind and just continued looking for a good place to trip out.
The room I was in was the apex of a horse-shoe shape, one half of it being the hallway I'd just come down. I headed out the other door, down the other side of the U. There was a room down this way that opened out to the outside. It was raining. In fact, it was hailing huge chunks of fluffy ice. I was curious by this strange weather and went outside to investigate. Out there I found a covered patio set like an entertainment hall. It too had been abandoned long ago. Cobwebs betrayed its neglect. Back inside, more people had come downstairs. At the end of this hallway, I came to another room. Sort of the laundry room, I guess. I felt like I had to hit the pipe if I was going to. I didn't want to do it upstairs. I sat on a bench and lit the bowl. It tasted like weed resin and didn't burn long enough to give me much of a hit. I stood up, waiting for the rush to hit. Instead, I experienced a strange sort of perspective shift, as if I was much further away from the ground all of a sudden.
I wandered back to the cat skeleton to collect his skull. When I turned the corner, I saw two people gently excavating it into a waxen cardboard fruitbox. I ran over and asked them what they were doing. They explained that someone at the party was a bone-collector and had a business salvaging parts from equine remains. I flipped my shit. On the one hand, I was pissed that he was claiming the cat, but on the other hand, I was thrilled to meet someone who understand my passion for collecting bones; someone who had made a career of it, no less.
I jumped up and immediately began searching for this person. The party had grown and people were more and more wasted as it went on. I approached the guy I thought was my man, and started gushing about how excited I was to meet him and how much I wanted to talk about salvaged animal bones. He was really drunk and the group of guys he was hanging out with were taking turns busting out martial arts moves on each other. I decided that if I was going to get his attention, I needed to impress him somehow. Without knowing what I was doing, I jumped into the circle and challenged this guy who was way bigger than me. I guess I had the benefit of quickness and size because I got him to the floor and came down on him muay-thai style with my elbow to his chest. It knocked the wind out of him and everyone was laughing that he'd been bested by a girl who didn't know martial arts.
But the guy I wanted to talk with was already gone.
I was stoned and drunk and a little dazed and before long, I found myself giving myself a tattoo. It was random, out of nowhere that I actually had the equipment on hand. I was looking down, tattooing a voudou heart on my chest. I was a good 7 or 8 lines into it. Then I thought to myself, "What am I doing? Why am I giving myself a shoddy tattoo on my chest. I realize that everyone is going to have tattoos they're less proud of, but I don't need to do anything stupid... so I dropped it and went upstairs to look for Dad.
It had calmed down a bit and people were playing chill music, lounging, smoking herb, and playing video games. The house looked vaguely more like dad's real house. I looked out the window and saw that dad's car was gone and I realized it was so late, maybe he'd left to go get some sleep. It bummed me out that I hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to him. Wandering through, I passed someone playing a video game. I can't remember who she was but for some reason she stands out in my mind. Dan's sister maybe? She spoke to me without turning around. She said she didn't want to be the one to break it to me, but that Dad was dying of Lymphoma and Diane was dying of Leukemia. I was speechless. She said someone had to tell me because they wouldn't.
I didn't know how to feel. I could feel tears welling in my eyes, but I didn't want to break down. Not here. Not without hearing it from him directly. I stumbled around, disoriented and detached. I didn't know what to do or how to feel.
Then suddenly they were there, in front of me, still warm but sober. Dad gave me a hug and I told him that I knew. I yelled at him for not telling me, then got teary again without crying. I guess he'd been waiting for a moment like this, because he began a declaration for all to hear. He recited what he would be leaving behind and who was to be the benefactor for it. I was entitled to 1/3 of his life insurance and whatnot. I didn't care. I stopped him and sat down with him at the kitchen counter, overlooking a pre-dawn mountain range.
He said he was sorry he didn't tell me and that he may only have a week to live. I was so sad I wanted to scream and cry and hit him and hurt myself. I think he hugged me. I don't remember the hug, but I remember the feeling of closeness and comfort that washed over me. It's not a hug I've felt often in real life, but in the dream it was more real than real.
I glanced around the room at all the happy faces and imagined a life beyond this heart-breaking moment. I watched a family. The father was my friend's brother whom I've never met. He had a huge bushy beard. His son was perhaps 4 years old and looked exactly like his father, beard and all. I wondered why the mother's features didn't factor in the boy's looks.
I woke up with a heavy heart.
My Father is Dying at a Party...
