“How was your birthday?” (before it has happened) is the dumbest of questions that made me look crazy.
So I asked of the others on the twelfth of our August… and the answered reward was the laughter of Amy.
They screamed, the triad as they twitched without words
All of her life had been tragic and strange…
In the dream that I had which wasn’t about HER who never had heard of Alice in Chains.
I witnessed her leaving without what she came with
I tried to return it but couldn’t remember
The business of grieving with no one to stay with can cry and can burn – could it even dismember?
The blood spray and spatters
As the dream loses focus… as the words lose all meaning and are lost to the vandals.
None of which matters much in the hereafter…
None of which woke us…
I blew out the candles.
Written by Jason Wright June 14, 2026
For Rachel
———————-
I was inspired by a dream I had, in which I, with a group of others had saved some girls from some type of disaster or horror. We gave them a ride in our large vehicle which they entered via the passenger side window. The vehicle was a car at the time but was often hard to define – changing shape and proportion. One of the girls had never heard a certain type of music, a particularly band name which also changed as it was discussed, but was at one point Alice in Chains – and this girl was paranoid that someone would steal her bag, despite us all being in a car with nowhere to escape to. We took the girls to a mystical home for girls (which was less a home and more magic like our car). They got off our bus (which was a bus at this point and the not the car we’d been in when we rescued them) and we felt like we’d accomplished our task, until we saw that the girl had left her beloved bag in our car. We had the bus driver return and I took the bag to the magic space ship home for girls. Two girls were entering the ship and I stood in / near the doorway to appeal for help in finding the girl who wasn’t anywhere that I could see. I described her to others and nobody knew her. I couldn’t remember her name but said she’d never heard Alice in Chains. I got the impression that this was heaven or a safe space for women who had been abused. Rachel Lynn Burleson Eanes, who I’d met at a hospital years before, was there – but in the dream her name was Amy. Another girl was in the same hospital with us, Amy Fulford, so maybe in my dream I just got mixed up? I called to her. She didn’t respond but gave me a look. Maybe because I was calling her Amy and not Rachel? I asked her how her birthday was – knowing that we had the same one, only 2 years apart, but then realized that her birthday in 2026 hasn’t happened yet (which explained the insulted / amused expression she shot me) but then I said aloud that it hadn’t happened yet. I said, “Well what about all the birthdays I missed? All the August 12ths?” and she didn’t stop and she didn’t turn, but the laughter she gave was genuine and it was hers. It was hers. I woke up. I knew what I’d heard in the dream and who that was and I held onto that sound for as long as I could. I didn’t eat. I didn’t take my meds. I wandered to the computer and wrote the dream down as best as I could, even though the weight and the depth of them was fading quickly…and then I wrote this. And now I can take my meds and eat – I can kiss Aaron, and start the day, because some of this has been jotted down, which gives me some peace at least.
I spend a lot of time thinking about death. I’m fine. Really. But, if one is lucky enough to age, invariably, people you know will die. Sometimes it is expected. Sometimes it is surprising. But stuff comes up. Like, how I’m now older than people that I used to know, who were my elders. Omni. Kelli Parker. Aunt Shawn. Johnny Vaughn. Just a few. And boyfriends. I’ve now outlived 4 boyfriends. And many others that I flirted with and had wanted to date. And then there are the many, many celebrities, who I never met. Brandon Lee. Freddie Mercury. Judy Garland. Kurt Cobain. Michael Jackson. River Phoenix. Scott Weiland. Steve Mcqueen. Tupac Shakur. Whitney Houston. I could go on; probably for hours.
As I posted the other day, I found out on Friday, that my old friend Brian had died the week before. I met him on March 19, 1992, which was a very memorable morning for me. That same morning I also met a whole host of other interesting people, including Rachel Lynn Burleson Eanes. I could never remember her last name but in an odd conversation at the time, it came up that we both had the middle name Lynn and that we had the same birthday – only she was exactly 2 years younger than me, less than a month younger than Brian. This morning I realized I might use her middle name and birthdate to help me find her. Only she died on September 29, 2004. Fuck.
I used to keep a blog. And I wondered if there might be an entry for that day which could clue me into what I’d been up to, only to see that on September 29, 2004, I was attending the funeral of my friend Kevin Clark. I had only met him a year or two before but he’d been struggling with kidney issues for a very long time. He died on September 25, 2004. Here’s what I wrote the day of his funeral:
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
I didn’t get much sleep last night, getting ready for Kevin’s funeral. The car ride was horrible, and my head still aches; but I just woke up from a dream in which Kevin survived, and the world was as it should be.
He was still in a hospital, but there were no terrifying machines to keep him alive, and Kevin’s Grandfather was there, playing with a baby, at the foot of the bed. Laurie, Mark & Mollie went out to take in the incredible view of the mountains, and Kevin said I looked sleepy. Kevin looked relaxed, healthy, but concerned about me. He pulled back the sheets and invited me to lay down in his enormous, comfortable looking bed, and I cuddled in and he laughed.
It was like one of the hugs we’d given each other in these final weeks, given in a hospital bed, only this one was under the best of circumstances, and made us both smile. Phil was there too; also playing with the baby, and he agreed with Kevin that it was too hot for blankets; saying he almost melted when Mark & I took care of him at our condo last summer & that he’d almost drowned in sweat under all the blankets. Kevin laughed, & I woke up hugging my pillow, hearing Kevin’s laughter, and I thought: We never took care of Phil, did we? It didn’t hit me for a few seconds that Kevin was dead.
The dream was comforting, and it was painful to wake up from; because Kevin isn’t in this world any longer, which made me cry. The first time I’ve cried about Kevin’s death. I was prepared for it, and it seemed like the best thing for Kevin at the end. I didn’t cry at the funeral home, because Kevin wasn’t there; his body lay in the coffin, but I couldn’t believe it was him; Kevin never sat that still. And I’d told several jokes to make my friends smile while we were there, and the thing pretending to be Kevin just lay there, which was the real tip off; Kevin always laughed at my jokes; never misinterpreting them as anything more than my own way of dealing.
I only saw Kevin in person, something like 8 times; and the last few of those visits was in a hospital room within walking distance of my condo. I always made sure to hug him, and be direct, and try to make him smile.
Monday May 20th, 2004, the last time I saw him, Mark & I told him we would bring him anything he needed; a laptop so he could write or check his email; a video camera if he wanted to record a message; or we could fly anyone in that he wanted to see a final time. We all knew that his chances for survival were slim, and I wanted to be clear about how cool I thought he was, and if there was anything he wanted in those final days, I wanted him to know that we could provide them. He said no to all of that; he said he was tired, and that he would soon be dead, or he would be better, and he would welcome both at this point. He told us to tell all his friends that he loved them. And then I hugged him goodbye, and I kissed him; the whole time worried that I was going to accidentally rip out some tube or device that was strapped on or into him; which again made him laugh in my ear when I whispered my concern, before he hugged me again even harder.
I hugged his Father goodbye too; amazed yet again by his family’s strength & support. People say that Kevin was a fighter, and he was. I’ve known so many others who were so opposite of him and I believe it has something to do with Kevin’s family and friends. His family was so loving & so supportive & so THERE, that Kevin was gifted with a home in which he could grow to be such an amazing person; and we all reaped the rewards of that love. Every time I’ve hugged his family since I’ve met them; every time I’ve looked at them, I’ve silently thanked them for the environment they provided, which produced such a loving friend.
The end, right? Only it wasn’t. Kevin e-mailed me the next day. I don’t know how he got to a computer; or why he changed his mind. I had written him some email in the past; 3 or 4 messages to find out how he was but he had never responded; he finally did, and this is what he wrote:
this you jayson?? i just a have a shprt time, checking adressess tanks for all youre help
love kkevin
I got to tell Kevin how I felt about him, & let him know how much I cared, and that I would do anything I could for him. I got to hug him goodbye, and he hugged me too, his grip was so strong though his body was so frail. I guess I haven’t been feeling sad so much as lucky, that I knew him at all, and that when his time came, we had those moments, and this goodbye, and the circle was complete.
And now I have this dream in my head of Kevin, happy & healthy, and making all his friends smile, and I choose to feel lucky for that as well.
The person who gave me directions to Kevin’s funeral, was Jason Lyons. I met him through the same circle of friends who had introduced me to Kevin. We hung out twice on our own, but never for long. I can’t remember if I ever asked him out, but I had wanted to – I do remember the timing was never right. When I met him, I knew he was kind and that he had great friends. But when I actually spoke to him, which took a long time because he was often very quiet around me, I knew he was something very special. We chatted online for hours. We spoke at a bar when we ran into each other there; he was on his own that time, and it was nice just being with him. We had very different tastes in music. lol But nobody’s perfect. Jason died on December 4, 2017. He was another one I found out about after the fact. Partially because while we had friends in common, I don’t think anyone realized we ever spoke. And partially just because I was pretty distant from everyone we did have in common. Geographically, at least.
Anyways, my mind searches for patterns, even when there aren’t any. But having lost Brian, I searched for Rachel. But Rachel died the day I was at Kevin’s funeral, by way of directions from Jason. And of the five of us I alone live to tell the tale. And that’s really fucking surreal.
