of ghosts and other mythical figures

Recently someone showed me an image of Sisyphus and I recalled identifying so much with this figure that, a few years ago, it was almost he who ended up spending eternity rolling his rock up my ribs rather than the Icarus Changed who flies there now.

Early Sunday morning, I found myself in a relatively vivid dream. I was wandering down narrow, brick-lined campus corridors, showing Walker some school. But I was lost. I'd poke my head into a classroom and see people absorbed in their lives and their studies. In one small gymnasium, my friend Nappy was strenuously working out (he actually does this) in preparation for an upcoming wrestling tournament (he doesn't actually do this). In another room, my old college roommate Tom O'Brien was now student teaching en route to a tenured spot. As for me, I had no clue where I was. I eventually apologized to Walker and told him he'd be better off finding his own way.

I don't feel lost here in the real world but it feels like I'm chafing under familiar yokes--entering old feedback loops. I've felt more mortal, less in control, and more dazed than I'd like to be. I find myself looking for role models and then justifying failures that they would have overcome. The Icarus tattoo didn't make me stronger, just more aware of when I stumble. Perhaps even they are steps.

I'm the ghost of summer present. I'm looking in on everyone but I'm never there. Recently I flipped through my friend's camera. On it were various friends goofing around and hanging out at various parties. I counted the occasions and realized that through five separate nights I hadn't been to any of them. It made me question my priorities. It made me wonder what I've been doing.