Meaddows Ryan, of New York, who made a generous donation to the Puerto Rican relief effort, writes:
After 13 years clean and sober, I was on a major bender involving drinking, cocaine, and Quaaludes. I was barhopping to all these different dive places on some shady-as-fuck waterfront, and trying to get more drugs. I was in the company of a real-life friend of mine who is in fact a lesbian, and enjoying the feeling of having her escort me around, especially since she was extremely well connected, so we got the celebrity treatment wherever we went.
At one point we stopped at a movie theater that was outdoors. They would strap you into something that was like an electric chair, but it was actually your movie theater seat, and then they would catapult you through the air and you would land in a square slot where you were locked down until the end of the movie. I don't remember what the film was but I know it was something really corny from the 80s.
Finally we got more drugs - for some reason it was imperative that I get two and only two more Quaaludes - and we ended up at this other waterfront bar that was run by women and they had about half the outdoor bar/restaurant space set up for homeless people. The homeless people each had a small table to define their space, and they kept their treasures on them and also their meals, cocktails, whatever. It was a beautiful idea and an act of kindness on the part of the restaurant owner. I remember thinking "I wish I had a table like that" and then I woke up.
First off, Meaddows, congratulations on your sobriety! I'm sure this achievement is no small feat. Addiction is a terrible thing - something which, as you well know, people have to work hard at controlling for their entire lives. Interesting, then, that your dream equates spending time bar-hopping in the company of a lesbian, with addiction.
The "major bender" you describe is a metaphor for another type of indulgence, and it's no accident that this "bender" is all wrapped up around a lesbian friend whose company affords you a sort of VIP status. You're suddenly SOMEBODY. That bender? It's lesbian sex, and it's presented to you in this particular package - "involving drinking, cocaine, and Quaaludes" - not because it's a dangerous and destructive force in your life, but because you subconsciously find the idea of sex with women to be downright intoxicating.
The imagery you describe in the movie theater is very telling. First off, the movie theater is outdoors. This detail is all about exposure: both your fear of being on display and vulnerable, and the potential joy of being exposed - being OUT. There's a duality there, and it's for you to ultimately decide which side will win out: the side that equates the experience of being "outside" with being exposed and "locked down," or the side that can actually kick back and enjoy the movie. Do you want a drive-in movie, or a dive-in movie? The choice is yours.
Your dream ends on what I consider a very positive note which hints at future self-acceptance. It involves "more drugs" - normally a terrible thing for an addict but, again, we're not talking about actual cocaine and booze, but about indulgence in good, old fashioned dyking out. The "homeless" people you describe are others who, like you, have spent a lifetime not really belonging anywhere. In the real world, self-loathing, closeted homosexuals truly ARE homeless: they don't belong in the world of straight people, and they rage against accepting that there might well be space at the queer table for them. They reject their true nature in an effort to belong and fit in (have a home, as it were) in the straight world and, ironically, end up having no place, at all where they belong/fit in. Homeless, indeed.
But your dream is about the END of homelessness for these folks and, ultimately, for yourself. It ends up in a utopian setting, where the homeless actually get to "define their space," and where "each had a small table ..and they kept their treasures on them..." This is your subconscious telling you that there is, indeed, a space at the table for you, ALL of you, including the treasure of your true sexual identity. You don't need to throw that away or hide it in order to find a place where you fit in. In fact, you need to embrace it and carry it with you, always, because you're emotionally and sexually HOMELESS without it. And, deep down, you know this about yourself. It's why you say "I wish I had a table like that." You're ready for dinner, and there's a seat waiting for you at the Sapphic table - the table where all your treasures are more than welcome.
You're at a crossroads, Meaddows, and I have one piece of wisdom for you: the alternative to being 'strapped into something like an electric chair,' is being strapped ON to something that's a lot more fun, and nowhere near as dangerous as drugs and alcohol. Cheers, queers!
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