In this dream I was sleeping. I needed to be packing but I had become overwhelmed with trying to part with the precious memories of all I had left in my life. I wasn't getting very far because with each item I attempted to sell, pack, throw away or give away I had paused to take in the memory. I held each book in my hand, opening it and running my fingers lightly across the pages. I recalled the words in The Sentimental Person's Guide to Decluttering that said books and clothes will mold and rot away in time. But each book I held in my hands had held up remarkably well. Some of them began their journey in this world in Coliseum Books on W. 57th Street. Some of them still bore my stamp declaring they were the property of CTM of 2823 Sedgwick Avenue, Bronx, New York 10468. Some of them moved from NY to Florida then to Indiana, then flew in a plane across the ocean to Cairo and back to the US again. They had held up remarkably well considering. I only lost 2 books to mold upon their return to the US and they were directly under a leaky window in the spare bedroom in our Maadi apartment so I suspect they had become wet. Some of the edges were yellowed, some showed wear marks from having been carried in my purse, some were full of highlights and pen marks and notes. Others were as clean as the day I bought them. They had been read but kept in pristine condition to reread when I would have the luxury of time. Sadly this time will never come. Some books even smelled like Cairo. Everything that I touched had some memory attached to it.
Being a psychic with the skill of psychometry is hard. I don't consider myself a hoarder. I certainly don't keep trash or pick up things on the side of the road to bring home. I don't have a particular thing I am particularly attached to. I get attached to the things when I can feel their memories. When I touch something I feel the memory, I feel the history and I am transported back to that place and time. When your husband has left you and all you have left are they physical things that existed in the same time and space - then these things become very important to the preservation of that time in your life. Facing homelessness, once again, I find myself - once again - standing in front of a dumpster deciding what to keep and what to toss. I must keep only those things that will fit into a 5 x 5 climate controlled storage room in Colorado Springs. It's Swedish Death Cleaning. What do you want to leave your heirs and will they feel the same way about the things you are leaving them as you do? Probably not. But you sort and sort until what you have left represents the very best of the best memories and you hope that upon your passing, they open the boxes and feel the same memories on the objects that you feel.
So I took a nap. And I dreamed that I should have been working but I was napping. I heard a phone ringing and became lucid for a minute. I have magic jack phone line close the the edge of the couch where I sleep. Sometimes it rings when I sleep. I told myself, the phone must be ringing now. In my dream I rose from the couch and walked to the other end of the house and found the phone on top of my printer (that is not where it is in reality). I was surprised to hear it ringing and excited at the same time because no one ever calls me. No one ever calls me. I answered the phone and was even more exited to hear Wael's voice on the other end of the line. "I just reread all your love letters. They are beautiful. Don't throw them away," he told me. "Don't delete anything."
No. I won't.
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