‘Hence, Horrible Shadow!’

I may not want to be king of Scotland, but Macbeth and I have at least one thing in common.

We’ve both been tortured by ghosts.

Shakespeare’s blood-stained nobleman was haunted by the spirit of Banquo, a general he had ordered killed to make sure the guy’s descendants don’t inherit the crown.

Macbeth thinks all is well until Banquo’s ghost makes an unscheduled and quiet unwelcome appearance at a state dinner that the murderous monarch is hosting.

Macbeth, the only who can see the spirit, promptly freaks the hell out, and begs the apparition to take any other form than that of his slain friend.

“Approach like the rugged Russian bear,” he says, “the armed rhinoceros, or the'Hyrcan Tiger. Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves shall never tremble...”

Buddy, I know where you’re coming from.

Last week I had a nightmare that rolled over my psyche like a runaway locomotive on rocket fuel. I’ve had many late-night whoppers in the past that have shaken me up something fierce, but this was different.

It broke my heart.

In this dumpster fire of a dream, I’m sitting at a desk in an office where, judging by the lack of masks, no one’s ever heard of Covid-19.

A new employee has just been hired and it turns she was a woman I loved and lost many years and, honestly, never quite got over. And, oh, better, she’s pregnant.

Nightmares like these makes me wonder what’s so bad about insomnia.

There I was, sitting at my desk, my stomach reeling, trying to figure out what to do.

She didn’t recognize me, at least not initially, but I knew it would be a matter of time before she did. What the hell was I going to do?

Hide in the men’s room every time I saw her? Pretend I was over the heartache when that wasn’t even remotely true? I figured I had to quit and I didn’t relish that thought either.

When I woke up, I looked up to the ceiling and asked God, why, why did He inject this awful scenario into my battered brain?

I’ve got enough toil and trouble going on in my coconut without long-lost loves making the fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Bring back that hideous fifth-grade psychotic nun I hated so much; dig up that fat-faced Pillsbury Dough-Pig who used to torture me in seventh grade.

Monster Mash

Send in the entire Universal Pictures horror crew—Dracula, the Wolf Man, and Frankenstein’s Monster, and throw in Godzilla to boot.

Dig up any malignant mutant you want, but not her; please, not her.

I felt the pain of this nightmare for days and I set about trying to find the source of this personal piece of torture porn. I couldn’t blame God for something I had created all on my own.

My subconscious mind made this thing happen, sitting in the director’s chair with a megaphone, shouting “action!”

I began sifting through the flaming wreckage in my skull to reconstruct the events leading up to this atrocity.

All I had done that day was meet up with my sister, walk around the neighborhood, and get takeout at a Mexican restaurant we like.

So, this perfectly enjoyable afternoon was the stuff of my nightmare?

In a way, I think it was.

I have a lot of negativity in my system and being quarantined has only made it worse.

I believe my subconscious caught me red-handed in the act of being happy and said, “oh, hell, no,” and set free the cursed thoughts to bring things back to “normal.”

This is disturbing, but it’s also a warning. It’s telling me that I have to monitor what goes on in my head.

I hit bottom with this dream, and now it’s time to bounce back up, and enjoy a life.

I feel more committed than ever to being happy—or at least happier. I know I’ve made this vow several million times over the years, but this time I’m taking a more relaxed approach.

We all know that one well-placed dose of adversity can snap an ironclad vow into pieces. So, this time I’m going to be the bamboo in the monsoon, swaying in the wind, while bigger, stronger trees get ripped from the ground.

I met my sister again last night for dinner and we went E Noodle, the Chinese place where we had our first meal of 2020.

It’s only takeout now, of course, but we still got those incredibly delicious soup dumplings—Oh, Lord, have mercy!—and, even though it’s almost August, we’re going to take another crack at the new year.

I’m going to try to be more mindful, more present. I’d like to give my churning thoughts a nice, long vacation, and try to live in the moment.

I do this every morning during meditation, but I want to extend the peaceful feeling through the rest of the day and keep Birnam Wood right where it belongs.

This morning while returning from my morning walk, I spotted a message written on the window of a parked car announcing that a little boy had just turned one-year old.

“It’s my first birthday!” the message said.

Mine, too, kid; mine, too.