leaving New Orleans

I had another dream about my sleepy grey town. Check out Oct 9, 2005 entry "fire dancers, pot smokers, and me." I wonder if every time I'm about to come home I'm going to dream about this town again.

I was walking down a sidewalk in a city full of skyscrapers. The clouds were grey, the buildings were grey, everything was grey. It was one of the only times I've been very aware that my dreams are black and white. I was walking with two of my good friends, except when I glanced at them I realized I didn't know them at all. I had no clue who these people were that I was walking with but we all pretended to be friends and walked together.

I saw a big storefront window and stopped. My friends stopped and waited for me as I peeked inside. I cupped my hands around my face and looked in. Suddenly my dream burst into color and I saw New Orleans. I saw a row of houses; red, yellow, green, blue, and purple... sweet New Orleans houses. They're so beautiful all colorful and with decorative trim. But these houses were crooked, very crooked. Some on their sides, some upside down, some sinking into water.

I tried to figure out where I had seen this scene before. The chaos of Katrina stayed for months, now a year, stillframes of destruction, because there were more important things to do. A house sitting in the middle of the street could sit in the middle of that street for a year and that's why many published photos from the storm I can recognize and know exactly where they were taken. I knew this scene, I remembered it.

But I didn't want to remember it anymore. I turned around and looked at my two friends, "I'm ready to pretend this didn't happen." And we walked on.

I woke up.


I'm more than ready to get out of here. There's still so much to be done but I have a chance to get away. I need it.

The people of New Orleans who were able to come back can't get away. Day after day they drive to work, swerving down their streets through a neighborhood of debris piles and at night they come home to the same familiar scene. They want to get away too, but their duty right now is to stay. The city needs them to stay. The city needs its life back. So many people were just put on planes and rushed out of here, sent to weird destinations like New Hampshire. And not everybody has the money to get a car or plane ticket to get back. They can't be blamed.

I want out of here so bad but there's so much more to do. I have a feeling I won't be gone long...