Dreams, memories and the subconscious....

[fajrdrako]

Today I started reading a book that begins:

Death is outside life but it alters it: it leaves a hole in the fabric of things which those who are left behind try to repair.

This seemed to fit eerily with the dream I had last night. The book, if you're curious, is Miss Garnet's Angel by Salley Vickers. (London, 2000).

I dreamed about my friend Tovah. Some of you here knew her. I dreamed I was visiting Tovah in New York, which I used to do sometimes, and she was still alive, which pleased and surprised me, because even while talking to her in the dream I was aware that I had thought her dead. She wasn't well; there were medicines about, which alarmed me, but gave me hope that she'd be getting better soon. We were having a great conversation. We always did.

I left her apartment, and then realized when I got to the street that I'd forgotten something at her place. I turned to go back, but couldn't remember her apartment number, or find the right corridor to get there, or even be sure I was going into the right building. The more I tried to remember the way, to find her place again, the more she was gone.... And then I woke up, thinking: Why that dream? Why now?

It must be just about ten years since Tovah died. For some reason I have trouble remembering the exact dates when people who were important to me died. A sort of mental block. My mother died in mid-November 1982, I think; Frank in March, 1983; Tovah in... surely... late April, 1994. We'd been travelling in England together after the 1994 Dunnett gathering, and had a great time. I was planning to visit her in May. Somewhere between those dates, she died. I may not have been thinking about it, but obviously my subsconscious was aware.

I like the metaphor: that death is, literally, losing someone - losing track of their whereabouts - but they're still there, where you can't find them.

It ought to be comforting. It is, but... I find myself feeling lonely this evening, for no particular reason. Not sad, exactly, but melancholy. I have wonderful friends, most of them still alive. (Thank goodness for you!) But people are so fragile, so easy to lose and not find again. Like budgies, really.

Ten years, and I miss Tovah very much.

Comments

[monsieureden.livejournal.com]

Awww. Like budgies. :(

I remember hearing of Tovah. I got into the Dunnett online fandom about 1998 and I heard a lot about her and her involvement.

I'm going to go hold my guinea pig now.

[dargie.livejournal.com]

Sadly, I never knew Tovah well, but she and I did correspond for some time after the '94 gathering. She was an amazing, wonderful person. But I know just what you mean. What persists, for me, after the death of someone you care about, is the conviction that it's a bad joke, or some elaborate hoax what I couldn't be let in on for some reason. But I'm sure that if I just look in the right place, or even just wait long enough, I'll find out what really happened, and then there'll come a day when we'll get together and laugh about it. Only you never do.

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

Yeah. Tovah started "Dunnetwork", which was the first online Dunnett list. She and Linda White and I were the first people on it. Amazing how much we found to say. And I remember our excitement when we got up to six - ten - twelve people on the list.

Yup. Hugging your guinea pig is a good idea.

[monsieureden.livejournal.com]

That's an accurate way of putting it. One of the hardest for me was when a friend committed suicide, but I was out of touch with the friend at the time, and I didn't hear about it til well after the funeral. Talk about getting no closure. It's almost as if he just up and vanished.

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

She was an amazing, wonderful person.

No argument from me on that! One of my favourite people ever.

the conviction that it's a bad joke, or some elaborate hoax what I couldn't be let in on for some reason.

Yes. The unreality of it persists and never turns into a reality you can feel. The person ought to be right there, like they used to be, and the fact that they aren't never meshes with your world view.

And P.S., not to embarrass you or anything, but you're another one of those "amazing, wonderful" people I've met through Dunnett fandom. So... take care of yourself, okay? Don't get lost.

[dargie.livejournal.com]

Thank you, sweetie. I'll do my best if you promise to do the same.

[dargie.livejournal.com]

Suicide. It's been one of those persistent themes in my life with a close relative, and a very dearly loved friend both following through, and a number of other friends attempting or requiring suicide watches. Nothing shakes you out of yourself like the suicide of someone you care about.

[adamlizz.livejournal.com]

*big hugs, honey*

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

Absolutely. I promise.

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

Thank you. *hugs back*

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

That's so difficult. You must always wonder if you could have made a difference - but there's no changing what happened. So much to wonder about, and an unfinished life seems like unfinished business.

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

It's so hard, for the person at the centre of it, and everyone around them. And no easy answers. *hugs*

[yellowsummer.livejournal.com]

I like the metaphor: that death is, literally, losing someone - losing track of their whereabouts - but they're still there, where you can't find them.

I can see your point here. I've never thought of death that way but it seems kind of logical to me now that one would have that attitude. It doesn't make a loss less painful but it is comforting.

Hope you are doing better! *hugs*

[kathyh]

Ten years, and I miss Tovah very much.

I met her very briefly at the Dunnett Gathering in 1994. I think we spoke for all of 5 minutes, but it was enough for me to really like her and be hugely shocked when I heard that she'd died. It must have been so much worse for someone who knew her well. Hugs.

[gem225.livejournal.com]

I like the metaphor: that death is, literally, losing someone - losing track of their whereabouts - but they're still there, where you can't find them.

I like it too, and I'm so sorry that you lost Tovah and were missing her last night. *hugs* You're a wonderful person, and I'm very glad that you're in my life.

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

..And when you miss someone, you need all the comfort you can get! Thanks for the hugs. *hugs back*

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

Thanks for the comforting hugs. It's nice to know you met Tovah, even if briefly! And I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again - wasn't that a great Gathering, that one in 1994? When I think back to the wonderful people there - ! And when I do think back - not feeling melancholy today, but just thinking - I remember wonderful conversations there with not just Tovah but Walter Silberstein, Barbara Lethbridge, and Dorothy Dunnett herself, all now dead - how nice to remember them then and there, and how much fun we were all having.

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

Big smile. Thanks for the hugs. I'm glad you're in my life too, and be sure to take care of yourself!

[kathyh]

Yes, the 1994 Gathering was wonderful. I loved the 2000 one too, but 1994 had a particular shine to it. I think one of my favourite memories of all was watching Dorothy Dunnett at the opera. From where I was sitting I could see her roaring with laughter as her work was lovingly sent up. Lovely moment, wonderful woman. And Tovah wrote the opera too.

Filipa e Francesco...

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

I loved the 2000 one too, but 1994 had a particular shine to it.

I agree.

I think one of my favourite memories of all was watching Dorothy Dunnett at the opera.

Wasn't that fun? She was enjoying it so much. That's among my favourite memories too. Being (mostly) onstage I couldn't watch her exactly but I could hear her laughing. It was just such a wonderful shared project, and shared humour. Now that I'm into opera, I wish I could talk to Tovah about it again - at that time I couldn't tell Puccini from Verdi and more than half the opera jokes were over my head. I got the Dunnett jokes, of course. ("Una." "Una?" "Oonagh!")

[monsieureden.livejournal.com]

Yeah. The eternal blame game. Hard to ever put it to rest completely.

[monsieureden.livejournal.com]

Yes, I do wonder sometimes. I'm sure I couldn't have done much - I was a teenager and he was in his twenties. I suppose we were already semi illegal, though it never occurred to me. We got along exceptionally well but I knew he was unhappy and insecure. Unfortunately I was young and too wrapped up in my own life to really understand the depths of it.

I didn't choose to lose contact with him. One day I called him and there was a message on his machine (in his voice) saying he'd been evicted and that we'd find him dead in the street (did I mention we were in theatre together? I had a hard time knowing if he was serious or just being dramatic). The next time I called the line was disconnected.

Sometimes I think if I'd been older, wiser, I might have been able to do something. But you just never know. I like to think that I at least provided him with some joy (being the perky sixteen year old I was) in an otherwise dreary life.

I Remember.

[walkingowl.livejournal.com]

On or near the twenty-fifth of May. I remember I walked into the Green Room of the OLT and you told me, with tears on your face.

Having known her only through you, I remember Tovah, too.