Good Friday

March 29, 2013

Vivid dreams, remembered for days after I had them. In one I was back at Hiram, as either a student or a teacher, and in agony because of it, as it made it seem that I had not progressed one iota, and was back where I was when I was twenty. In another I had a job in a gallery. I was proud of my expertise in art history. There was a complicated modern painting, done partially with wax, and I won praise for figuring out how to analyze the wax to get at the secrets of the painting.

Holy Week marches on. The Maundy Thursday service was moving, and the bishop preached a brilliant sermon, which is in my head even now. Good Friday service this afternoon, the men a cappella, which I find to be a thrilling sound when I’m listening, so I hope it is when I’m singing as well.

Getting off the table after Zach’s massage. I found that I was afflicted with terrible vertigo. I couldn’t walk straight, and the disorientation was making me sick to my stomach. This continued. I was afraid I’d stagger and fall when I got up to read the Old Testament verse (Isaiah), but I didn’t. The vertigo dissipated slowly. DJ and I decided to eat Mexican, and the fish tacos tasted so good and evaporated the vertigo so completely, that I wondered if I had simply been hungry. I had been fasting for Holy Week, and had reached that point where one isn’t even hungry anymore. The food gave me comfort as food seldom does.

Slept profoundly through the afternoon, then bestirred myself and went to a student play at the university. It was student written, directed, and produced. I chatted with the sweetly anguished director before and during intermission, trying to convince him that everything was right, whether it was or not.