Every few months or so, I have a dream that completely unsettles me. The dream is not reoccurring, per se, but the central theme is always the same.

Last night I had a dream that my grandfather had died, and our family was having the viewing in my grandmother's house. Actually, to be more specific, in the basement, which is completely unfinished and is essentially a storage area. It was evening, and many people were filing in the house - people my age that I hadn't met and other older people that I also didn't know. I kept walking in and out of the back door, going down my grandmother's driveway to look out into the street. I'm trying to find my then ex-girlfriend, who at the time in the dream had just left me for another guy - she knew my grandfather well and had a great deal of affection for him, and regardless of our "status" I thought that at least she'd want to make a stop at the viewing. After repeatedly going out into the street, going back into the house, having a cocktail (the viewing seemed like more of a party than anything else) and greeting more people, one of whom I actually recognized, trying to contact my ex, rinse and repeat... I finally woke up with the ugliest feeling.

Now, of course, in real life my grandfather actually died 5 years ago, I had rekindled with my now ex-girlfriend shortly thereafter (we were 'high school sweethearts') and his viewing was at a funeral home. The details in the dream always change - the time of year, the place, the details about the status of my relationships, where we are, etc. - but one thing always remains the same. In every version of this dream I'm searching for my girlfriend and I know damn well that she is with another guy, and I can never find her.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have called this girl an "ex-girlfriend" for years - I haven't dated exclusively since and have had a great deal of fun. At the time we broke up it was for another guy that she had previously dated. I was convinced that we were going to be getting married one day, and the experience took its toll on me in ways that I'm not going to describe in a public journal. Lets just say it was the worst experience of my life and I was completely devastated - it was the worst kind of betrayal I've ever dealt with.

I NEVER think of this girl - I don't even remember the last time she crossed my mind. I've "been with" a few other ladies since and there is absolutely no time in the past where she's crossed my mind when I'm with someone else. And to be fair to the other girls, they were fabulous, incredible ladies that gave that completely broken guy some hope - those girls I truly respect and love to this day. However, every couple months, like some twisted, diabolical variation on the worst experience of my life, this dream pops up out of nowhere and leaves me feeling incredibly sullen.

Its time I admitted it - I think my mind is playing tricks on me, and I am beginning to believe that the experience I had with that evil ex has somehow affected my subconscious very deeply. I do not have relationship phobia because of my ex - the girls I met after her, like I said, were incredible and fascinating in their own ways. I am grateful for having experienced a little bit of fun with them, and in some ways they forced me to see myself in different ways that have changed me for the better. The experiences with them made me more optimistic, hopefully in a permanent way. How can I ask for more than that?

But a girl that took away a more innocent side of me, somebody that I don't care about, somebody whose location I don't know, somebody that basically was sinister behind a gorgeous veneer - she can rob me of my good vibes and ruin my day because of what seems to be a deeply rooted problem of my own, caused by what she did to me a few years ago.

(e:jason) just came home for a minute, which is nice because otherwise I'd be left feeling a little helpless, being by myself until 6pm and not knowing what to do. Smoking pot can carry you only so far... I need to find a way to catch a little euphoria, even if its only temporary.

All I can say about it is - I'm tired of this.

I cannot believe that I forgot some of my work stuff at home - I absolutely have to do this today so therefore I have to make the hour roundtrip during the day to go get my homework. How stupid of me! I knew I was going to forget that stuff... seriously, at 7am if I don't literally place the things I need at the foot of the door I will forget them.

On the bright side of things, its sunny. On the duller, less forgiving side of things, its 1 or 2 degrees outside with a supposed high of 10 degrees today.

Operation Chaffeur Mark has been finished - dad has had his lasik surgery and all appears to be fine. It was interesting spending 3 or 4 straight days with him - I haven't done that in at least 6 years. I couldn't believe how busy this doctor was... every day we were up there the office was packed with people either being checked on or those who were about to get surgery. To those considering lasik surgery - its worth it, but just remember - the surgery is painless but you WILL smell your own burning eyeballs.

Having better than 20/20 vision I couldn't relate to how life changing this surgery is for some people until I read the testimonial book in the office. One lady said that for the first time in her life she could read the alarm clock in her bedroom - something small but incredibly significant. Anyway, if one of you decide to pursue lasik surgery I would highly, highly, highly recommend the office my father went to - my father's experience has been fantastic.

Generally, I could care less if France burns itself down into crispy pommes frittes. At one of the first (e:strip) functions I attended, (e:paul) and I were chatting and I said to him, in my staunch and defiant way, "I'LL NEVER VISIT EUROPE!!" (e:paul) doesn't know it, but he disarmed me in a rare way that took me by surprise when he asked me his next question.

(e:paul) looked at me quizzically and asked me, "Why wouldn't you?"

It wasn't the question itself, but the way in which he asked it that struck me into considering why exactly it was that I generally despised most of the continental European countries. In the twinkling of an eye, the question made me scrunch my eyebrows, bite my lip and look to the left in consideration over whether or not my previous misgivings were fair, or even rational. After all, on an individual level we all are curious about one another when we visit other countries in the most endearing and human way. Why should I come down in judgment on an entire country, or even a continent, because I felt that their politics were completely backward? When you talk to somebody on the streets of a foreign city, the conversations are rarely about politics - the conversations are usually of the variety that impose a certain feeling of innocence and interest that most of us haven't felt since we were children.

In my own stubborn way, I insisted that my boycott of the French would continue, but I also decided that there would come a day where I would visit Germany and of course, England. England is the home of one of my favorite sports, and is also the home of my favorite club, Chelsea FC. Germany is a beautiful country that gave birth to the likes of Richard Strauss, Richard Wagner, the great Bach and the even greater Oktoberfest - how could it be bad? Its strange, but when I think of Germany I think of blue water, mountains and Wagner - sort of a like a Ricola commercial that was stripped of its cheesy, campy, slightly insulting veneer so it could be made to be more authentic.

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Ok instead of writing a narrative I'll talk like myself now!

I just finished reading Salinger's Nine Stories for the first time, and now I've purchased a collection of short stories by Ernest Hemingway. I think next I'll be reading Faulkner, followed by John Updike and Flannery O'Connor.

While doing some research to determine what I was going to buy, I was completely surprised by the comments that some apparent feminists were leaving about Mr. Hemingway. Okay, so his characters are "manly men" who like to hunt big game and do "guy things." How on earth is this a cardinal sin? Listen, as part of my "education" in English electables that I took for fun and to complete a minor, I had to read things that were FAR more self-absorbed and obscene. Take for instance, Naked Lunch. I flat out told my professor at the time that I wasn't going to finish the book - for a supposedly brilliant writer I was startled at how William Burroughs managed to fool everybody with this heroin and benezdrine fueled pile of dogshit.

I was also introduced to a wave of feminist literature, such as Kinflicks and Fear Of Flying. These books were barely tolerable, not because of their subject matter, but because the efforts were so forced and felt so unnatural that I wondered to myself, "do women really need feminist literature to come to an understanding of who they are as women?"

Anyway, back to Hemingway. Ernest Hemingway is one of the greatest Americans to have ever written. To somehow try to downplay his significance or contribution to literature by casting judgment on him through some kind of contrived modern context is laughably silly. And it doesn't make Erica Jong any better of a writer either.

Today I accompanied my father to his Lasik surgery in Niagara Falls, Canada. I even got to watch it, which I have to admit was interesting. Both eyes only took about 10-15 minutes, and they have a monitor hanging up in the room so you can watch all the good stuff up and close.

Not being regularly privy to the proceedings in the surgery room, I can only assume that "regular" surgery is far more gruesome, but its strange to watch you're fathers eyeballs on a 25" screen being held back by clamps and tape, while they continually prod and apply anesthetic eye drops as the laser does its work.

Quote of the day from the doctor's assistant (who I am attracted to, but I'll explain more in a second) - "You won't be able to feel the laser, but you'll be able to smell it." Yeah, she's talking about the smell of burning eyeball.

This office possibly had the most attractive women per square inch of any doctors office outside of a plastic surgery center. Beautiful girls - is it wrong to hit on or flirt with your dad's doctors? I say, hell no. Not that I would actually say this, but the thought in my head at the time was, "I think you're beautiful and I want to kiss you." As far as I'm concerned thats a better pickup line than "call me Fred Flintstone cuz I'm gonna make your bed rock." Too bad I'm shy.

I had about 2 hours to kill, so I went to the supermarket nearby and got some couscous salad, juice and some Chinese pears and Fuji apples - the pears were white, had texture like an apple and had virtually no flavor. While I waited for my dad's prescriptions after his surgery, I took my blood pressure... and I have to admit that I was shocked. 191 over 119, pulse 79. I really, really need to stop drinking redeyes from SPoT and get back on my diuretic. I must have among the worst blood pressures for somebody of my age and health - I have lost about 15 lbs. of my "travel weight" over the past 4 months or so, but I still have a little bit to go, and my diet isn't exactly the best out there at times. I need to find a good organic decaf coffee that I can live with.