a "smoking dream" (and what i made of it):
the second thing that struck me was the number of his colleagues and friends that i had never met before who told me how proud he was of me...
(from day 51-52) last night (or early this morning) i had my first "smoking dream" - although it wasn't me that was smoking, it was the first dream i've had since i quit (and maybe ever; who knows?) that had a lit cigarette (and a smoker) in it. i don't really remember much of it, except that the guy who was smoking the cigarette reminded me of pat morita in the karate kid for some reason (although i don't think i've ever seen him - pat morita - smoke) despite the fact that he was taller than i picture pat morita being, and i wouldn't swear that he was even oriental-looking. we were in a locker room (or someplace that looked like a locker room), and he was telling me that i was incapable of doing something or inadequate to some task that i knew i was perfectly capable of performing - weird that i can remember that much of it but no more... i don't remember if i spoke to him at all, but i didn't smoke. strange.
i just re-read that last paragraph and thought, "maybe it was dad..." (although i haven't the slightest clue what pat morita or the karate kid or a locker room might have to do with my father, but dreams don't work that way, do they? - i think it's time to grab the shovel and the flashlight again...)
in between the above and below, a friend responded to the above by saying that maybe it was dad telling me i couldn't quit smoking, because he was never able to do so. this idea had already occurred to me, too, and i responded to that observation:
(day 54) weird, that thing about dad. yeah, i think it may have been him, but it's a very old record that's playing there (we talked about records recently, didn't we?). there was a time, 30 years ago or so, when dad was extremely disappointed in his #3 son (and when his #3 son had not much use for him), and he used to express that disappointment in a variety of ways (and, just because #3 son hadn't much use for him, it didn't mean that #3 son wasn't paying attention to what he said and did); sometimes he'd make negative statements about #3 son (which #3 son found hurtful, even though he affected a "who gives a fuck what you think anyway, old man?" attitude). a very old record, to which i would smoke. (a freudian analyst might make much of the fact that i slipped into third person for a bit there...)
another day passes, and i remember this:
(day 55) actually, i was tossing this around just before i read this message, and i was recalling dad's wake: (at least) a couple of things struck me; first of all, the number of people who showed up, from the highest levels of ny state government, the television and cable industries, etc. - there must have been over 500 people though that funeral parlor that night. i didn't even realize he knew that many people, let alone that many people who would find it important enough to show up at his wake.
the second thing that struck me was the number of his colleagues and friends that i had never met before who, when they found out i was kevin, told me how proud my father was of me, and how he used to brag about me to anyone that would listen. i was actually pretty much shocked by this; he never told me himself.
is this "the elves and the shoemaker", or what?