was it all a dream?

I'm starting to wonder if it actually happened. did i actually go to St Bernard Parish? did i meet all those wonderful people? did i spend an entire week plastering/sanding/texturing/priming?

it's starting to feel unreal, like a dream that happened to someone else.

the first week after i got back was brutal, i was not here nor there, my body seemed to have made the transition fine (10+ hours of airports and jets took care of that), but my soul? heart? essence? took a while longer to make it back. it seems to be mostly here by now, and that's why I'm starting to feel like it was all a dream.

so i force myself to remember, but it requires a conscious effort. though going back and reading what i wrote helps (as i knew it would). but i also think part of the problem is that i haven't been able to keep in touch with the one brickers who where such a huge part of my life for a week. Janet and I IMd a few days ago, and it helped knowing she's going through the same process as me. and Bill and I managed to talk for a few minutes yesterday. that helped as well, but it was very strange hearing his voice while standing in the middle of a park in the Richmond Marina on a COLD, WINDY, FOGGY bay area summer day. i associate Bill's voice with the hot, humid Louisiana weather, so there was that disconnect to process as well.

I was reading Ebony's latest post at the one brick blog many reactions to it: the same "beyond sad" feeling that i got while i was there. and the same anger that drove me to sign up for the trip and that kept me going when the sadness became too overwhelming. also, a sense of pride in her, and not a little bit of jealousy, i wish i had been able to stay. and, finally, a sense of longing for Camp Hope, and St Bernard Parish, and, essentially, for that one magic week where I knew what i did mattered at the most basic level that i was making a very tangible difference in somebody else's lives.

i need to go back.

i will.