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"
Tell
me
,
dear
one
,
"
he
said
,
and
he
pointed
out
toward
the
colossal
,
powerful
,
endless
,
rocking
ocean
.
"
Tell
me
,
if
you
would
be
so
kind
-
how
exactly
were
you
planning
on
stopping
that
?
"
Two
nights
in
a
row
now
I
’
ve
had
dreams
of
a
snake
entering
my
room
.
I
’
ve
read
that
this
is
spiritually
auspicious
(
and
not
just
in
Eastern
religions
;
Saint
Ignatius
had
serpent
visions
all
throughout
his
mystical
experiences
)
,
but
it
doesn
’
t
make
the
snakes
any
less
vivid
or
scary
.
I
’
ve
been
waking
up
sweating
.
Even
worse
,
once
I
am
awake
,
my
mind
has
been
two
-
timing
me
again
,
betraying
me
into
a
state
of
panic
like
I
haven
’
t
felt
since
the
worst
of
the
divorce
years
.
My
thoughts
keep
flying
back
to
my
failed
marriage
,
and
to
all
the
attendant
shame
and
anger
of
that
event
.
Worse
,
I
’
m
again
dwelling
on
David
.
I
’
m
arguing
with
him
in
my
mind
,
I
’
m
mad
and
lonely
and
remembering
every
hurtful
thing
he
ever
said
or
did
to
me
.
Plus
I
can
’
t
stop
thinking
about
all
our
happiness
together
,
the
thrilling
delirium
when
times
were
good
.
It
’
s
all
I
can
do
not
to
jump
out
of
this
bed
and
call
him
from
India
in
the
middle
of
the
night
and
just
-
I
don
’
t
know
what
-
just
hang
up
on
him
,
probably
.
Or
beg
him
to
love
me
again
.
Or
read
him
such
a
ferocious
indictment
on
all
his
character
flaws
.
Why
is
all
this
stuff
coming
up
again
now
?
I
know
what
they
would
say
,
all
the
old
-
timers
at
this
Ashram
.
They
would
say
this
is
perfectly
normal
,
that
everyone
goes
through
this
,
that
intense
meditation
brings
everything
up
,
that
you
’
re
just
clearing
out
all
your
residual
demons
…
but
I
’
m
in
such
an
emotional
state
I
can
’
t
stand
it
and
I
don
’
t
want
to
hear
anyone
’
s
hippie
theories
.
I
recognize
that
everything
is
coming
up
,
thank
you
very
much
.
Like
vomit
it
’
s
coming
up
Somehow
I
manage
to
fall
asleep
again
,
lucky
me
,
and
I
have
another
dream
.
No
snakes
this
time
,
but
a
rangy
,
evil
dog
who
chases
me
and
says
,
"
I
will
kill
you
.
I
will
kill
you
and
eat
you
!
"
I
wake
up
crying
and
shaking
.
I
don
’
t
want
to
disturb
my
roommates
,
so
I
go
hide
in
the
bathroom
.
The
bathroom
,
always
the
bathroom
!
Heaven
help
me
,
but
there
I
am
in
a
bathroom
again
,
in
the
middle
of
the
night
again
,
weeping
my
heart
out
on
the
floor
in
loneliness
.
Oh
,
cold
world
-
I
have
grown
so
weary
of
you
and
all
your
horrible
bathrooms
.
When
the
crying
doesn
’
t
stop
,
I
go
get
myself
a
notebook
and
a
pen
(
last
refuge
of
a
scoundrel
)
and
I
sit
once
more
beside
the
toilet
.
I
open
to
a
blank
page
and
scrawl
my
now
-
familiar
plea
of
desperation
:
"
I
NEED
YOUR
HELP
.
"
Then
a
long
exhale
of
relief
comes
as
,
in
my
own
handwriting
,
my
own
constant
friend
(
who
is
it
?
)
commences
loyally
to
my
own
rescue
:
"
I
’
m
right
here
.
It
’
s
OK
.
I
love
you
.
I
will
never
leave
you
…
"
