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Tina Fey stands outside my window, shuttling questions and getting ready for a gig. Inside, I try to figure out what to do with my fingers. I don’t know how, but they’re purple and stiff, and…shall we say…estranged from my hand. They’ve been sliced off. Maybe if I soak them, they’ll come back.

When I wake from the dream, I try to shoo off the image, till I remember that before bed, I’d put away dinner leftovers: two and a half barbecued sausages, which looked in the container like my fingers did in the dream. Weird. But a relief.


At the farmers market a few hours later, I buy lettuce from a man who has no fingers on one hand. He wears a small, black, leather sheaf around what I’m assuming is the remaining portion of his hand. I drift back to Lisa, lettuce in hand and tell her I’m traveling between dream and waking world today. As I tell her this, I spy fresh dill, and wonder aloud if it will wilt on the long drive home. “Maybe if I soak it, it’ll come back,” I tell her. And then look at her wondering which world she’s in, dream or waking.

We round the corner. Kate joins us. I’m staying at her place while I’m in town. Sometime in the dark, between the dream and the rationalizing it, I got up to go to the bathroom and got spooked. “Grandpa,” I thought, loud in my head. Grandpa’s been gone a long time, but I still call on him when I want to feel safe.


We wait for Kate to select peaches at a fruit stall, and while she does I’m fairly levitating in space-out mode. My eyes are fixed on the mulberries, and I think, “Mulberries. I haven’t seen mulberries since Grandpa’s mulberry tree.” And then I think, “Man, those mulberries are long. So long they’re curled. And purple. Like the fingers in my dream.” I get the willies I got on waking from the dream. And then I remember last night’s call to Grandpa in my head. And then I think, “Hey, Grandpa.” We leave the stall with Kate’s peaches and my arrival from my trip between worlds. Thanks, Grandpa.

Come to our party

Our first-ever Saturday morning pancakes and mimosa story charming party will be wonder-filled. Come over and tell+hear stories, drink champagne, and soak up Portland’s first blush of summer together.

Saturday, July 7, 10:30-2:30, downtown Portland, OR

As space is limited, slip in to the invite list to receive yours.



Flights. Of fancy.
Falling. Without fear.
Attacks. Of joy.

Sony BRAVIA Bouncy Ball Advert from Josip Kostic on Vimeo.


Fleeing. In release.
Corridors. Of color.

Smoke. Replaced.
With joy. In light.
Souls. In flight.
In remembrance.
In memory.
In living. Wonder.

–    –

…At the end of the wonder
you may find this experiment
is an advertisement
for the makers.
Let not commerce keep you
from expanding
(your screen)
raising your volume
. . . floating

(Totally 100% recommended): —> Super high definition, for watching, listening and floating full screen

. . .

Writing this I can’t help wondering what life itself is an advertisement for, what life is experimenting. The joy, the loss, the grief, the dark, the wonder . . . the light.

Any ideas?

. . . . . . . . . . .

Thanks for reading Day 26 of “Memory to Light: 31 Days of Stories, August 11 – September 11, 2011.” It is an exercise in writing about loss, for the purpose of letting grief wake, live, and pass through the system. Grief is transformation. Story is transformation. Our world could use a some wakeful transformation right now. Take a peek at the introductory post for the full story of what we’re up to.

Join me

Consider this project an online story circle. Read a story that moves you. Write your own on your blog. Link it to the comments below, so we can read your piece. If you don’t have a blog, write your story in the comments.

Let your memories live. Let small corners of your grief breathe. Let your loss be swept into the collective experience of people sharing, witnessing, and letting be.