It’s a pretty big place from what they’ve told me. The inner world is set in a rural night-scape. When I start to dissociate, I go to The River and Float. I sink deeper and deeper sometimes and then an alter takes over.
The River leads to a beach where they have outings where they spend time together to bond. We call it Cedar Beach.
They all live in a large house out in the country. Everybody has a separate bedroom. Sometimes Jamie sits by the window and draws on a rainy day. I keep wondering why there’s no sun.
Recently, I started waking up at 4am and heading out to the beach with a tripod and a couple cameras. Here are a few photos from my most recent excursion to Cedar Beach in Mount Sinai on Long Island, NY.
I haven’t touched my camera in a few months. I had some problems with my Photoshop subscription (they are temporarily solved?!), but I’ve also been working three jobs/six days a week, and on my days off I’ve been cripplingly exhausted and depressed. The past few nights off I’ve had I’ve gone out to take long exposures of the beach, just to force myself to go create things. I don’t know if I’m over the depression yet; there are so many external forces holding me back right now, but it feels nice to be productive and have something to work on.
Back when Kerri and I used to work overnights together, sometimes we’d hang out in the morning after work. This was on a foggy day and I wanted to go take photos at the beach, so she modeled for me. It wasn’t a day for fun pictures, though, it was sort of eerie outside. I kept thinking about this friend my mother had when I was growing up. Her husband drowned and they never found his body. She’d walk the beach every day looking for him. Of course after a time this was a ridiculous thing to do–it wasn’t going to help. It was just an excuse to make. But I’m sure the ritual was comforting. Maybe in a way it was how she connected with him again.
When you lose someone it’s all you ever really want.