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I have this dream.
I am in a foreign city.
Not overseas, but foreign to me.
I am part of a family.
It is not my family.
I have never seen these people before coming to this city, yet I find myself waking up next to a man.
- in his bed
- in his home
It is not my home.
This man is not my husband.
I am not sure why I am here.

There is a child.
It is not my child.
The child treats me as though I am a mother.
I am not a mother.
I play along.
For some reason I don't want them to find out that I am not who they think I am.
I am very confused.
I have my clothes and my sundries here.
I have food that I like here.
There is beer that I enjoy drinking here.
I don't belong here though.
I can feel it.
I am not sure why I am here.

I work at my job from this home.
The man also works from home.
We are together 98 percent of the time, yet we barely speak.
We cook and eat meals together.
We watch TV together - sometimes for hours.
We have sex sometimes - only in the bedroom.
But this man is not my husband.
I do not feel close to him.
I am not sure why I am here.

Nothing extraordinary happens.
We go for bike rides as a family on occasion.
We take out the garbage and do laundry.
All the mundane tasks of marriage.
I am not married.
I feel very lonely most of the time even though I am usually with the man.
This man is not my husband.
I am not sure why I am here.

I am told it is for my safety.
For everyone's safety.
I am not sure this is the case.
I think I was safe at my home
- when I was not sleeping
- when I was not dreaming
- when I was alone
This dream seems rather long yet I continue to dream.
Perhaps tomorrow I will wake up in my own home.
By myself
- but maybe not sure why I am there either.

The Corona Muse

When all this bizarre COVID-19 shit began, I was staying in Alabama.
Being exposed to so few people in Alabama, I didn't feel too worried about contracting anything.
I only returned to Atlanta to go to work because I still had to go into the office in those early days. 
As the situation became more dire and I was able to finally work remotely, I decided to return to Alabama in order to be in isolation with people rather than alone in my place in Atlanta.
I told myself that Atlanta is more densely populated therefore the risk of contracting the virus seemed greater than in a small town in Alabama. 
I felt like human contact would be my saving grace during an unknown situation.
For the most part I still believe this to be the case.
Today, however, I find myself in a weird predicament.
I have a lot of creative energy that I need to express and because I am not at my home, I have no way to get all that energy out.
It is making me anxious and distracted and nervous.
I feel like a caged animal.
Pacing back and forth.
Back and forth in a small box.
A box that I cannot escape.
So I pace some more.
In my mind.
I have absolutely zero supplies with me so there is not really anything I can do about it.
I have come to realize that I traded my art for human company and i feel I have made the wrong choice.
My art is always there for me.
I can express my joy, my sorrow, my confusion, my sadness, my longing through my art.
I can share all that is running through my mind at a million miles an hour.
My thoughts and ideas can run free and come to life in any number of ways when I am surrounded by my tools of creation.
I cannot say the same for being in the company of humans.
My ability to express who I am and what I am feeling is stifled.
It is also too complex for words.
I need to create and I am just simply unable to in this moment when I so desperately need to.
I need to make something with my hands and my heart but I can't.
And I am sad.