Note: I simply copied and pasted this from a Word Document. Formatting didn’t translate super great, but c’est la vie. Still has its essence. I hope people enjoy it.
The Unrequited Dreams of Dr. Feelgood
Chapter 1: The Pain of Being Born
January 26, 2023
My earliest memories are dreams. Dreams of pain. Because even as a small child I could see pain everywhere, in everything. Magic and beauty and innocence too, but always there was pain. So much suffering, and so much love, all wrapped up in the same box, under the same Sun. In my dreams there was always one truth: I could do it, I could stop the suffering, and I could cure the pain. I have the same dreams today. My name is Felix Goode.
January 27, 2023
I have yet to fulfill my destiny. However, I still have my purpose. The mind is my muse. The human brain my obsession. In neuroscience I see the questions and answers. Like mathematics, there are patterns and solutions. I believe this. Such a beautiful thing, the mind. I don’t know if God created it, or evolution, or both, but I want to say thank you. I am still in love with the cerebrum, like a beautiful flower in infinite motion, always working. We are so lucky, so cursed.
The pain and the hurt comes from within. Not always constant, there were and are moments of relief, when I could breathe easier and see the tantalizing hope inherent in life’s existence. O, but when the suffering comes, it feels at times as if I cannot live, cannot go on. As a child the doctors said there was nothing physically wrong with me, and I would ask them “so you don’t feel this way? How do you carry this hurt?” The pain of the world was like a mirror. I was always trying to escape the pain inside. I always loved caterpillars. I too wanted to experience true metamorphosis. How do butterflies feel pain?
My own mind is broken. I am just another battered and bruised spirit in the multiverse looking for a flicker. I have come to the realization, yet again, that I am reliant on others for my happiness. Even my will to live at times feels external, tied up in other souls. I want to go internal, go inside myself, a journey toward the center, but heaven help me, I am weak. I have a lot of work to do. It is my work that keeps me going. It is the brain that keeps me sane.
I do all of my work in a small homemade laboratory I assembled in a garage. It is a good a place as any to try and solve the mysteries of synapses and transmitters. There are times when I feel as if I am making progress, really getting somewhere. Mostly it is like being lost in the desert; I am simply going in circles. Curing the brain and humanity of pain is not an easy task. I have just about everything I need in terms of equipment, at least I make do. I ask a former colleague in all seriousness to bring me brains in a cooler. She only laughs.
In my garage lab there is a coffee machine, a Cuisinart, I love that coffee machine, a microwave, and a mini fridge. All of that is hooked up to a power strip, resting right on the concrete floor in a corner. I have a small table with a Dextrola record player on it and a milk crate with some of my favorite vinyl records. There is a night stand I have next to a brown, suede reclining chair in the same corner, next to a little window. The chair has absorbed the aroma of Camel blue cigarettes. It is the most comfortable chair in existence. I have slept in the chair a few times. I also have a bed roll that I sleep on when I don’t want to drive back to Princeton. My lab is in Trenton, the rent is cheaper here than in Princeton. The people are kind to me in Trenton. I would like to move here but I can’t bring myself to leave my apartment in Princeton. Something about it. Maybe the memories. I miss her.
January 28, 2023
I remember when I met her. The day was April 19, 2019. It was a sticky, juicy New Jersey day, full of sunshine and sweat. Innocently, I had left the university lab to get lunch. I was hot just being out of the air conditioning for a few minutes. Then I saw her, because you couldn’t miss her. She was juggling a soccer ball by herself. She had a ghetto blaster playing Fatboy Slim’s “Praise You” and she was dancing to the music with the ball. I am not, nor have I ever been into sports. I can admit the tricks with the ball were cool, clearly she was talented, but I was just transfixed by the amount of fun she appeared to be having. The way she was moving was effortless and fluid, as if the music were magic. She was lost in it, without a care in her world. A smile was on her face, knowing that everything would be all right. Here and now, for her, this life and this existence was a blessing, a gift. Even when the smile faded from her lips because she was concentrating on the ball, the joy remained in her eyes.
I had to say hello to her. Or say something. I began to sweat inside my shirt a bit, but I didn’t care. I wanted to get to know this kind of freedom. She was sweating profusely, she was human after all. Usually I tried not to be shy, but I didn’t quite know how to approach her. What would I say? “Kick me the ball.” Had she noticed me watching her? How long had I been watching her? Thankfully, just as my inner dialogue started running, a young man walked past with his dog. She saw the dog, and her face lit up even more than before, if such a thing were possible. She asked him if she could pet his dog. He said of course, please do. She got down on a knee and was scratching behind the dog ears. The dog looked to be a mutt pitbull mix. The dog started to lick her face and she laughed. “Dreams” by the Cranberries had started playing on her boom-box. I think she laughed in key to the music, laughed in harmony. Who is this person? I had to remind myself that I didn’t even know her name, but my heart skipped a whole number of beats.
She continued to pet the dog. The dog was very pleased with this.
“What’s the dog’s name?” she asked.
“Her name is Ella.”
“That is a beautiful name.”
“Thank you. What is your name?” he said.
“Juliet, but before you ask, I hate that play.” She laughed again. “What about you?”
“Peter. It is great to meet you Juliet, but I have to run to class.”
“Cool, we should ride skateboards sometime,” She said, commenting on the guy’s skateboard.
“Sounds good. Come on Ella.”
Ella looked sad to go.
Now was my opportunity. I was thinking don’t say something stupid, like “Hi, I like dogs too!” I walked across the sidewalk and told her as casually as possible, “Hello, I like your taste in music.”
She gave me a big smile and said, “Thank you!”
“And you are very skilled juggling that ball.”
“I appreciate that. Do you play?”
“I wish,” I said. “My name is Felix Goode.”
“Juliet,” she said.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Thanks, nice to meet you too.”
“Are you a student here?” I asked.
“Yeah, I am getting my masters in social work.” She said with a soft, fading smile, like maybe she was bored of saying that.
“What about you?”
“I work here, I am a scientist,” I said, trying to sound unassuming. “Juliet, it was a pleasure meeting you, but I have to go bring my colleagues lunch.” My brain and soul were yelling at me, no, don’t leave, they can starve.
“OK, it was nice meeting you too,” she said with a faint smile.
My desire to see her again was such that I pulled out my wallet and said, “Here is my card. Also, you should know, I like dogs too.”
She said thanks and took it, but her expression was difficult to read.
When I returned with lunch for my colleagues, they commented that I had sweat through my shirt.
She never called.
January 29, 2023
It was over a month before I saw her again. It was at a Princeton event, a graduation gala of sorts. A real fancy-shmansty gathering at the Palmer House. Suits and ties, and dresses and perfume. It was a lovely and pleasant May evening and people appeared to be in festive spirits. I was talking with some of my colleagues, commenting that I wish they would play some Daft Punk, when I saw her. She was in a corner of a room talking on her phone. I smiled inside, felt a sweet rush of endorphins, like hearing the opening chords of a song you love. Then I reminded myself to breathe. “Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool.” More of a suggestion than a mantra. I took a baby sip of my champagne flute. Then a bigger one. It didn’t appear that my colleagues had noticed the changes that had started to take place in my brain chemistry. I tried to listen again to what they were discussing with no luck. I looked up again and she was no longer on the phone. I walked over to her without a thought.
“Hello, and good evening,” I said, hoping to sound calm and friendly.
“Hello, how are you?”
“I am doing well, thank you. Do you remember me?”
“Yes, I do. Felix, right? Your turn, do you remember me?”
“I do, Juliet. How is your evening going?”
“Superbly! I got my master’s degree, so I am here to celebrate.” she said, standing on her tip toes ever so slightly as she said it, a glint of relief, pride, and potential mischief in her eye.
“Congratulations, that is wonderful!” I am sure I was grinning like a fool.
“Thank you, thank you. What is it that you do Felix? Your card said you are a neuroscientist.”
“Yes, that’s right. I am working with my colleagues to find new ways to eliminate and alleviate pain in the human condition. We are experimenting with various nanochips, and nanotechnologies as well as with neurosurgeons on potential surgeries. Those are some of our goals. We are trying to move away from drugs and pharmaceuticals, although they can be very effective tools.”
“Well, that is interesting,” she said, a bemused wrinkle on her brow taking shape. “Isn’t pain part of being human?”
It appeared she had no fear of expressing herself or being overtly polite. I was smitten. “Head Over Heels” by Tears for Fears began playing in my head. I tried to turn it off.
“Yes, you are right about that. We want to be selective in what pain we alter, subdue, or destroy. But in my belief, the more the merrier in what we can eliminate. I think we can make the human experience better.”
She closed her eyes while I was speaking. I felt the silence around me, the calmness on her face. Only a few seconds maybe. Just enough time for 1000 thoughts to run through my mind.
“Do you believe in God, Felix?” Her eyes now opening with intention and curiosity. They appeared to be a deep green.
“I am agnostic,” I said, stammering some. “I don’t think there is enough empirical evidence or proof to either prove, or disprove, the existence of God, or a supreme designer. What about you?”
“Hmm, a strong stance,” she said, laughing. “Yes, I do, in a sense. I am a pantheist. I believe all living things are God. So, you’re God, and I’m God, and the birds and the bees, and the trees, algae, even bacteria I guess. All living things I believe to be sacred.”
“Well that is a rather enlightened view of the world. How does one practice this?” My intrigue and wonderment were mixed with some skepticism.
“By trying to respect and appreciate all living things. Including yourself and the people you care about. I think love is the best way to heal pain and make our lives better.”
“There is a lot of truth in that. Love is a gift, but do we always have it? My colleagues and I are searching for some other, more pragmatic solutions. Enough about my work, however. A toast of congratulations and celebration to you.” I held up my flute of champagne.
“Thank you, but I don’t drink,” she said.
“That is good. Can I take you out to dinner then to celebrate with you?”
She took her time with the question. She was studying my face. It seemed like she was enjoying making me wait for her response.
“Yeah, I would like that, Felix. I have your card.” It seemed like she was trying not to smile. She stuck out her hand matter-of-factly, like a slow motion gunslinger.
I shook her hand, she spun around on a heel, her dress and ponytail swishing and swinging in synchronicity, and she walked away.
I went back to my colleagues trying not to give too much away, my insides squirming and glowing with elation. They asked who I was talking to and I said, “Just a friend.” A waiter came by and asked if I would like another glass of champagne. I said, “No, thank you.”
January 30, 2023
I became infatuated with her rather quickly. But Juliet and I took our time falling in love. At least I tried to take my time. She seemed to actually care for others more than herself, which I wasn’t sure was a real thing. I noticed that music sounded even better when I was with her, like some kind of magic. She was so intelligent in many ways, but it was her emotional intelligence that I always marveled at, sometimes in envy. Juliet was also an optimist who saw the beauty in just about everything. I tried to learn all I could. Lord, she knew how to have a good time too. She was always trying to get me to have water balloon fights with her, and once she tried to start a dance party inside the university art museum. I tried to pretend like I didn’t know her.
She also challenged me. She supported me in my work, although she didn’t fully understand what it was we were trying to achieve. We were once eating lunch outside and the sun was in her eyes, illuminating them beautifully.
“Don’t you think that pain is just part of existence? What kind of ramifications would it have to remove pain from the human experience? Pain and suffering are important in helping us learn and to grow.”
I listened to her speak. There was wisdom in her words, but I tried to appeal to reason, my reason. “Cancer is also part of the human experience, but we want to cure and eradicate cancer. I suppose I think our work has a similar importance.”
“But cancer is quantifiable Felix. We can see the malignant cells. That is a more obvious problem and solution. Also, not everyone has cancer. I tried to reason, I would tell her that cancer is part of the human condition too, but we are trying to cure and eradicate it. She would tell me that cancer was quantifiable, one could see the malignant cells, and not everyone has cancer. We all have pain and experience suffering. That pain and strife is a part of us, part of being alive, and it is not always bad.”
“You are right, in some ways. We aren’t trying to completely eliminate pain, just make it better, make it easier, and the more we can take away the better, in my opinion.”
Her pain was not the same as mine. I knew I could cure the pain inside.
She only smiled at me and nodded, and put on sunglasses and a hat. Her independence and her trust in her intuition only drew me to her more and more.
Chapter 2: Ghosts’ Love Poems
January 31, 2023
I remember exactly when I knew I was in love her. It was a warm and sweet August night. We were out on her balcony, looking at the stars. Juliet loved the stars, and astronomy, and physics; she was always outside at night watching the stars. She told me we both had an affection for science, but that she preferred to look out, while I preferred to look in. She asked me to dance under the stars with her.
I said, “Don’t we need music to dance?”
She smiled with intent and said, “Just come here.”
I stood up and walked to her, wrapping my arms around her back gently. She rested her head on my shoulder and started swaying back and forth. I could tell she was still looking up into the sky at the stars. She started humming a tune and gave me a little squeeze. Then she started singing, softly and slowly, so that I could only faintly hear it. “Fly me to the Moon, let me play among the stars…” I closed my eyes. It was then that I knew. Her voice had a tranquility to it which I did now know was possible. Her voice had become a part of me. I felt at peace, held her closer to me, listened to her sing.
I was the first to say it. I told her later that very same evening. We were in her kitchen and she was laughing about something. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, looked into her unfathomable green eyes and told her, “I love you.”
Her exact words were, “Thanks. That’s sweet.” She laughed, and turned away from me. And I couldn’t tell if she was just fucking with me, or she really didn’t feel the same way. She was like that, always joking about things I sometimes didn’t find very funny. Later that night, after hours of questioning all my life choices, she told me, “I love you too, Felix.”
Juliet wasn’t perfect, and I didn’t want her to be. I cherished her imperfections. She was special, and she made my life immeasurably better. I don’t know what heaven is like, but I know I’ve never been closer than when I was with her. We were together for over three years. They were far and away the best years of my life. Alas, all things must pass. Still those moments from that time flash through my mind, like a flicker, without warning, without cease. Always her.
February 1, 2023
I can only blame myself. All of it was my fault. One morning in October 2022, Juliet found my personal stash of drugs: morphine, heroin, and hydromorphone, to dull the pain; Xanax and Klonopin, to relax; Adderall to un-relax for work; and ketamine for God knows what. Her parents had been addicts too. She told me in the beginning, she could help me, that she could help me help myself. But that she didn’t want to be around drugs anymore, and be in love with someone whom she wasn’t sure loved her or the drugs more. She was right, and I got clean. I got clean for a while. It was beautiful, actually. She was what I wanted, all I wanted. But there was still something missing. I was making great progress with my colleagues, we were making strides. But still I was in pain. There was still so much suffering. I couldn’t find peace when there was still so much hurt in the World, and in myself.
Juliet, that saint, did not even raise her voice at first. She confronted me, and I could tell she was disappointed and sad, her eyes looked so sad and in pain. There was not even anger in her voice. She gave me every chance.
“I didn’t realize you had started using again, Felix. You have to stop. You can’t continue to do this to yourself.”
“I know. I’m sorry baby.”
“No, don’t ‘baby’ me Felix. This is serious. These things can destroy you. You are disrespecting me, and you are disrespecting yourself. Do you want to get more help? What can I do for you? You have to promise me you will stop. I am going to throw all of this away.”
I said, “You are right. I will stop.”
I could sense more tragedy in her voice, more sadness, and even a little venom, a little anger.
“Are you going to buy more, if I get rid of this?”
“No I won’t. But have you ever tried any of them?” I still don’t know why I said it, what wickedness possessed me.
A look came over her face I had never seen before. She let out a scream, the sound of which still haunts me from time to time to this very day. She said only three words, “How could you?” She threw the drugs down on the table and left out the door. I couldn’t tell if she was crying. I didn’t go after her. At that time there was nothing I could do. Also a part of myself didn’t really care. Fuck that part of myself.
She had told me not to contact her; she knew I had other people who cared about me and could look after me, or be there in an emergency. So she said do not contact her for anything. That hurt, but I actually did OK for about a week or so, before it really set in. Then one day in my drawer I found a little piece of paper, torn around the edges, not cut. On it were three words in her cute writing with a small heart drawn underneath it, “Lost Souls Forever.” I had a complete and total attack of guilt. My heart was broken and pointing fingers at me in disgust. I had to get her back. I had to get her back. But there was nothing to be done. The self-loathing and hatred began to set in like a cancer.
I missed her. I missed her. I missed her. More than words can say. I couldn’t function, and I didn’t want to. I slept too much or not at all. I lived off of frozen pizzas and breakfast cereal. I was listening to far too much Elliot Smith and Alice in Chains. I lost track of how many times I listened to “I’m Not in Love” by 10CC, “Bittersweet Symphony” by the Verve and “Surf’s Up” by the Beach Boys, but not “God Only Knows.” Fuck that song. Also “Changes” by Black Sabbath to make me feel better and “Just the Two of Us” by Grover Washington Jr. and Bill Withers to make me feel worse.
She was all I thought about. Our memories were now only my memories, and when I would dream of her at night I would wake up sad and sick because it was over.
When I was still a kid, as soon as I was able, I had started using drugs. Anything that put a stop to, no matter how briefly, the unbearable existential pain, to me was a gift. In the beginning. I realized at a young age that drugs were a temporary and transitory escape or relief, but I couldn’t stop. Nor did I want to. My thinking was that the alternative was far worse. It pushed me onward to look for a real solution, a real cure for my hurting. But in the meantime, they were my therapy. Opiods, alcohol and benzodiazepines were my personal favorites. I tried not to love them.
Then Juliet had come into my life. She was the only thing that really took my pain away. I realize that now. She had been right. Love was the way in. Perhaps not a cure, but the closest thing there was. But the pain didn’t go away, it was still there. How could I not see then, that she loved me, and that was enough? I didn’t love myself, but with Juliet I was close. I didn’t want her to see the holes in my soul. I was afraid if she saw my real pain, the damage inside, that she would be disgusted, turn heel and run. Sweet Juliet, bless her, she really helped me, and she wanted me to get better. From the outside she could see that what I was doing was merely following the path of least resistance, and that I was doing far more harm than good. And I would stop for a while, because I had her, and she was so much better than the drugs. But doing Dilaudid was easy, comfortable. I didn’t see why I needed to stop.
What a fool I was.
I had to try and get her back, she was my cure. Out of respect I had not tried to call her, but I was a desperate soul. I would call her just this once.
I dialed her number, my heart was doing jumping jacks. It rang, I tried to breather normally. It rang again, and rang some more. It kept on ringing and went to her voicemail box. Juliet has a lovely voice, and it was sweet to hear it. But when her voice stopped, I hung up the phone. She probably didn’t want to hear what I had to say.
February 4, 2023
Memories of her were a blessing and a curse. I didn’t want them to stop. There was one winter morning in which I woke up and reached out for Juliet but she wasn’t there. I heard her downstairs in the kitchen. I snuck down the stairs and peaked around the corner. She was making pancakes, stirring the batter, and dancing delicately and sweetly, even though there was no music playing. I thought I had been quiet but without turning around she asked me, “Do you want strawberries or blueberries in our pancakes?”
I laughed and said, “Strawberries, what about you?”
“I am easy, whichever you would prefer.”
“Alright strawberries then, please.”
She tended to be quite delightful in the mornings. Though she said to please not call her a morning person. Secretly I thought that she was much more a morning person than I was.
“Can I give you a shoulder rub while you make the pancakes?”
“No thank you, but if you put on some music you may get yourself a dance.”
I didn’t deserve her, but my love for her came from within and was uncontainable. I had stopped questioning it.
This is what filled my head and my heart, and my eyes and my ears; morning, day and night. Thankfully, not all the time. I still had to live in the present too. But the past mingled with the present. I didn’t want to know the future.
After Juliet left in the fall, (I still have never forgiven the month of October) I lost sight of my purpose. Of what it was I had to do, to heal and cure humanity’s pain. I did my best to quiet my own. In the dying twilight one evening, to make myself feel better, I gathered up all my drugs, put them in a paper bag, ran down my steps out the door and threw them in the nearest dumpster. But it was merely a gesture, an act of theater. By the next morning I was calling my dealers and trying to buy more of anything I could. I drank lots of Thunderbird wine. The guy at the 7-11 told me that Tbird wasn’t something I should be purchasing multiple times a day.
Eleven days after Juliet left I lost my position at Princenton. It was a miracle I had lasted that long. My colleagues reached out to try and help me, but I didn’t want their help. In a way I relished the pain then. I did not yet want to heal. I lived knee-deep in darkness like that for weeks, with my drugs, my sorrow, the couch and the television. Thinking of her all the time. In a way I wanted to, but I tried my best not to, to turn the volume down on her memory. I never wanted to turn her off. She was the only thing saving me.
Deep down, I knew I needed to save myself.
February 5, 2023
I began to try and pull myself out. It wasn’t easy. I tried using less. But it was a slow process. The guy at the 7-11 would smile to himself when I would get Camels and coffee instead of Thunderbird. Juliet was still often in my feelings, but I didn’t think of only her. I was making some small steps. Sometimes my mind would show me a picture of her beautiful face, and my soul would actually smile. I knew then that I could make it to the other side. I would still get sick with grief and withdrawal from not having her in my life, but I had a little bit of hope. I tried not to call her too often. Occasionally I would breakdown and try calling. She never answered.
I started to get withdrawals from the drugs too, but I hadn’t stopped entirely, so they weren’t so bad. I just tried to moderate my favorites.
I started changing my clothes every day. I even bought some vegetables and fruit from the grocery store. Some of them went bad in my refrigerator, but I ate most of it. I bundled up for the cold and would go on walks. Sometimes I wouldn’t even have a smoke on my morning stroll. It wasn’t rare, that I would still feel like death, but there were times when I felt like life was all right. That the juice may even be worth the squeeze.
February 6, 2023
So I was doing better, still terrible, but better. I began looking for a space to build a lab. This is when I found the garage in Trenton. I was never too good with budgeting, but having the lab in Trenton was a no-brainer. I built out the lab and became rather fond of it. In December I really got back to work. I would like to say that work became my new addiction, but I was still using. I still had a broken heart. At least it wasn’t still breaking. Working did help me a lot. And I would try not to get too loaded before I would drive.
I had rediscovered my purpose. To help heal the human race, and to heal myself. Joy in my work slowly returned to me. I never lost my fascination with the brain. Intricate beyond comprehension, like the vastness of the Universe; and each one unique. This was the true beauty of the human mind. There were commonalities, but no two brains are exactly alike. I found this motivating in my search for treatments and cures, that each brain had potential, and presented me with different problems and potential solutions. Perhaps there was a special brain out there that would help me find the key. I believed there was.
February 8, 2023
I kept on working, doing what I could with what I had. Time did its work on me. I still thought of Juliet often, wondering what she was up to, how she was doing. But it didn’t hurt so much anymore. I would sometimes catch myself wondering if she would be thinking of me, just then. I would hope she wasn’t.
I remember around Christmas time, listening to “The Very Thought of You” by Nat King Cole in my car. I had to pull over on the side of the road. I don’t think I cried, but I came close, and it became hard to breathe normally. Then I gave up, and thought of her, a memory.
She didn’t care if we had a Christmas tree or not, but she liked to go ice skating around the Holidays. She looked so happy and free on the ice. She was always trying to get me to come out on the ice, making jokes about how I wasn’t as bad as I thought I was. I preferred to just watch her.
I could breathe again. I wiped my eyes and smiled for no one to see.
I continued to slowly get healthier, and the pain inside about her started to feel more like a setting sun. Still there every day, but it wasn’t as bright. Some days it would all come flooding back. I learned to not fight it too much. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want her back in my life, but I was doing better trying to live on my own.
February 9, 2023
My true catharsis was writing letters. I wrote her a letter on November 3, November 12, November 17, December 5, December 24, January 12, and January 29. I haven’t sent a single one. I have a stack tucked away in a drawer in my desk in my apartment. They are good for my wannabe healing.
I wrote her a poem:
After all maybe everything isn’t connected
but then why does everything make me
think of you
I wish I could tell you
how much you mean to this Universe
In my mind and in my eyes
I see your smiling face
And send the little bit of love I have to give
here and now, to you
across the small and infinite spaces…
I have shared it with no one.
Chapter 3: Wombs and Cocoons
February 10, 2023
Today is an exciting day! A former colleague of mine, the incomparable Sarah Walters, dropped off a real human brain at my laboratory. I gave her the biggest hug I could give. I asked her to stay, so that I could give her a tour. She said she had to go. That is OK, thank you Sarah! It is a beautiful specimen. I am going to examine it now.
February 12, 2023
This is truly a fascinating and glorious brain. It is superior to observe living, functioning brain specimens with the proper technologies, but one can learn a lot from an inanimate brain. I have noticed some interesting aspects of this specimen in the pre-frontal cortex and the limbic system. Specifically in the anterior cingulate cortex region, the ventral tegmental area, the nucleus accumens, and the amygdala. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but intriguing. My curiosity is heightened, and I am excited to see what I can find. I must get back to work.
February 14, 2023
To take my mind off of what day it is today, I went to go visit one of my very favorite people. A personal hero. My favorite professor from medical school; Dr. Yasmine Karim. A true genius and the closest thing I was aware of to an enlightened soul. Some of my classmates even called her “Vieille-terre” which means Old Earth. I always called her Dr. Karim. She was from Tangiers, Morocco and could speak French, Arabic, Spanish, and English. Her true passions were science, mathematics, and, like me, the human brain.
She is retired now and lives in Point Pleasant, a little beach town in New Jersey. She loved living by the ocean. I had been planning to visit her for a few months, ever since I lost my job at Princeton[Ma1] . I don’t know if I would call it soul searching, because I don’t think my soul ever left. But I needed some soul healing.
It was about an hour drive from my place in Princeton to Point Pleasant, due east. I woke up early, before the Sun had risen. I was happy, excited, and a little nervous. I went for a morning walk in the cold and dark to watch the Sun come up. It began to snow gently.
Dr. Karim was an early riser and she had told me to come to her house “bright for breakfast.” When I got back to my apartment I started my car, to get it warming up, and drank some coffee upstairs while I waited. I was anxious to get on the road and put my coffee in a mug and went downstairs and to my car. It was still cold, but not too bad.
I enjoyed the drive. There wasn’t much traffic, and I didn’t drive on the I-33 often. The snow had stopped and the Sun had come up. The sun rising was quite beautiful. I wore sunglasses and tried to not look at it too directly.
My car had warmed up and was nice and cozy, and I still wore my jacket and a warm hat. I began to feel too warm, so I turned down the heater. I felt a sense of peace come over me as I was driving to go see the doctor. I even turned off the music and drove in relative silence for a while, just listening to the noises of the freeway. Then I started singing gently to myself, a song that I hadn’t heard in, what seemed like, a long time, “Don’t go chasing waterfalls, please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to…” It was one of Juliet’s favorites. I don’t know how it had gotten stuck in my head, but I wasn’t mad about it. It is such a beautiful song.
I turned the music back on. That song stayed stuck in my head.
It had been over a year since I had seen Dr. Karim. She loved Juliet, and Juliet loved her. They got along famously. I wasn’t looking forward to talking about Juliet, and what happened between us. But I didn’t think the wise doctor would bring it up until I was ready. I was nearly to my destination of Point Pleasant and Dr. Karim’s house. But it felt almost too early, so I stopped at a gas station, 7-11 of course, and got a small coffee. I smoked a cigarette while I waited for the coffee to cool down a little bit, and read my book in my car, Goethe’s “Faust” in the parking lot of the 7-11. I waited until about 8:30 and then proceeded towards Yasmine’s house. I was so excited, and any nerves I had were now just pleasant little butterflies.
I pulled up to her house, which was right on the beach, on the boardwalk. I walked up to her door and before I could ring the bell, she had opened the door and gave me a big hug.
“Felix, how are you? I missed you. Please come in.”
“Thank you Dr. Karim. I am well, how are you?”
“I am fine, yes. Very happy to see you. Come, let’s have some breakfast.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Good, good, make yourself at home.” she said.
“I have something for you, I hope you like them.” I had gotten Dr. Karim some small gifts. An old and pretty hardback copy of “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath, which I had found at a quaint bookstore in Trenton, and “Chaos: Making of a New Science: 20th Anniversary Edition” by James Gleick. (“The Bell Jar” said Sylvia Plath on the cover, not Victoria Lucas. It was not that old, nor that expensive!)
Dr. Karim looked elated and genuinely surprised. “Thank you Felix, you shouldn’t have. My, the books do look lovely. I didn’t know they had released a 20th anniversary edition of ‘Chaos.’ As you know it is one of my favorites. Thank you dear. Now please put them on the hall tree and come in.”
I took off my shoes and followed her to the dining room, were there was an impressive breakfast all ready for us. Fried eggs with several types of olives, an assortment of breads and jams, and olive oil, crepes, mint tea, and orange juice. It looked and smelled delicious.
“This looks amazing. Thank you.”
“You are welcome Felix. You know I enjoy cooking.”
She was the best. We sat down and began to eat. It was even better than it looked.
“So, Felix, be honest. How are you really?”
I took my time ever so slightly in answering.
“I am doing better now Dr. Karim. Truly I am. I started working again.”
“Yes, I heard you lost your position at Princeton? What happened?”
“Well, Juliet left me. And I didn’t handle it very well I don’t think.”
“I see. I see.”
I could see the disappointment and sorrow on Dr. Karim’s face. For a while she said nothing more, and simply ate her food, making little noises and only looking at me occasionally. She was gathering her thoughts.
“Why did she leave, Felix?”
“It was because of my drug use.” It was hard to say these words. The shame was immediate.
“Hmmm, I see. Are you still using them now?”
“Yes, but far less. I am trying to stop.”
She nodded and looked me in the eyes, but didn’t say anything. She was trying to tell if I was telling the truth.
Then she said, “Do you still love her?”
I nodded. “Yes, I still love her.”
“I thought so. You should apologize, and tell her how you feel.”
“I don’t know how she would feel about that Dr. Karim.”
“Of course, you don’t know. That is why you should talk to her.”
“Well I have tried calling her, I don’t think she wants to talk to me. I don’t know if I deserve to have her back either.”
“Hmm, I see. It just pains me to see that you are apart. I know that you love her, or loved her. She was truly a blessed and amazing woman, and she was good for you. I think she loved you too.”
“Yes, I do love her, and I did love her. What should I do Yasmine?”
“That is not for me to answer Felix. That is up to you, of course. If she has made that choice, there is only so much you can do. I think you are trying to do the right thing and heal yourself. Though we never fully move on from such things, in a certain way.”
“It does feel that way now, but time is a great healer.”
At this Dr. Karim laughed and her eyes twinkled in a smile. “Yes, yes, time is a great healer, that is true. Then why do you do drugs?”
Then I laughed, although it was without the same mirth as the doctor’s. It was a nervous laugh, with some shame in it too. “Sometimes I don’t have the time, and the pain is simply too much to bear.”
“Well, we all must bear our pain I suppose. Some more, some less perhaps, but we all have that to deal with. Do you think the drugs actually help you? There is no cure for a broken heart Felix.”
“I know that now Yasmine, thank you. I am trying to find a cure, though not through drugs. Did you ever do drugs Dr. Karim?”
“In my youth I did some experimenting; some exploring. I don’t think I ever had much interest in altering or killing pain however. If you know there is no cure for a broker heart, why I are you searching for one Felix?”
“That is my life’s work. To find the answer to the riddle about pain in the human brain. You know this Dr. Karim.”
“There is some pain which cannot be healed, don’t you think? That shouldn’t be healed. Do you want to cure your broken heart Felix?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Do you really want that?”
I closed my eyes for a little while. I tried to still my mind. A memory came to me of Juliet. We had been out to dinner at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse. She looked beautiful, she was wearing a short black dress and high heels. I was wearing a dark blue suit. Dinner was lovely, but on the drive home we got into an argument. I think it was about whether I should meet her parents or not. I wanted to meet them, she didn’t think it was a good idea. Apparently she was over it, because she told me to pull the car over. I pulled over. I thought to myself, “She must be really upset.”
When we got out of the car she took off her high heels, and begin running. I began to call out to her in confusion, but then I saw what she was running towards. There was a group of children, the oldest couldn’t be more than 10 or 11, playing soccer in a park under some lights. Juliet threw her heels over a waist height chain link, hitched up her dress and jumped over it. She approached the kids and asked them if she could play, they said yes, some of them laughing.
I walked over to the fence and watched her from the other side.
This was my memory. Her chasing after the ball in her black cocktail dress, trying to tie up her hair in a ponytail. She was having so much fun. I think she loved life, at least sometimes. I caught myself smiling. God she was beautiful. I had forgot what we were arguing about.
“Yes, Dr. Karim, I want to cure my broken heart. I will still have my memories. I am still the same person. Juliet is still the same person.”
“If you say so, but you have had time to heal, time to process. If there was a surgery or procedure, or pill, to heal your heart and cure you, would you take it? Would you have taken it back then? Maybe you wouldn’t be thinking of her now. Maybe we wouldn’t be talking about her now.”
“I hear the wisdom in what you are saying Yasmine. I am listening. But I could have been spared so much suffering and so much pain. The world could experience so much healing.”
“Would you really rather be without that particular bit of suffering and pain Felix? The world is self-healing, yes? Certainly one person cannot heal the world. Mother Nature looks after herself, and is a great healer. You should try to heal yourself Felix.”
“I am trying Yasmine.”
Dr. Karim smiled at me warmly, and lightly put her hands on my cheeks and said nothing for a few moments.
“Are you satisfied with your breakfast Felix? Let’s take a walk on the beach and enjoy the winter weather, shall we?”
“That sounds lovely.” I smiled with my soul through the pain.
Dr. Karim and I went for a very nice walk on the beach. The sun had come out, and the cold was mild and pleasant. It was very much welcomed and refreshing. We walked and talked on the beach for hours and hours. We spoke about everything but romantic love. We spoke about food and what restaurants we had been frequenting, and I asked Dr. Karim to tell me what music she had been into recently. She said she had been listening to a lot of old jazz, blues, and soul music. Classical too; mostly Debussy, that was her favorite.
I asked her to tell me a story from when she was younger, living in Morocco.
For a while we walked along the beach in silence.
“There was a time when I was very young, maybe 6 or 7 years old. I was with my big sister and our friend, Aisha. We had snuck out of our houses to go down to the market and get some Khlii with some money my sister had. On our way back home it had started raining. We took shelter for a little while in a fashion shop, amongst the pretty clothes. We were close to home however, so we decided to just make a break for it. We were running, laughing, with my sister trying to keep the Khlii dry under her shirt in its paper wrapper. Then there was an immense and all-encompassing flash of light and a deafening crash.
Aisha had been stuck by lightning. My sister and I were unharmed, but we were screaming. Aisha was on the ground, smoldering. My sister ran for help, and I just stayed with Aisha, crying and screaming. Some people came and tried to resuscitate her. They couldn’t save her. She died there.”
“That is horrible, I am sorry Dr. Karim.”
“It was very tragic, and very traumatic. That was part of the reason I went into medicine and science.”
“Yes, I understand. It sounds like there may have been no helping your friend though.”
Dr. Karim looked at me with a soft, grimacing smile, “This is true. Come, let’s go back up to the house. I have some Valentine’s gifts for you too.”
We took our time walking back to Dr. Karim’s house. When we got back, she thanked me for the books and put them on her bookshelves. Then she went into her bedroom and told me to wait in the living room.
She came out with something square in red wrapping paper. Once she handed them to me, I knew what they were. I took the wrapping paper off. Inside were vinyl records! She had gotten me original pressings of Stevie Wonder’s Innervisions and Isoa Tomita’s Snowflakes Are Dancing.
“Thank you Dr. Karim! They are amazing!”
“Yes, I hope you like them, and that you don’t already have them.”
“I don’t already have them, and I will love them. Both albums are masterpieces of music. This is very thoughtful of you.”
I needed to go, but I didn’t want to say goodbye.
“Thank you for your company and your wisdom Dr. Karim.”
“Thank you for your company and your wisdom Felix.”
We gave each other a big hug.
“Call me anytime now Felix, and please take care of yourself. You are going to be all right.”
“Thank you Yasmine. Yes, I think I will be all right in the end.”
I let myself out the door and walked down to my car, placing my records delicately on the passenger seat. I walked around the car, got in and headed home, grateful for my experience with Dr. Karim.
During my drive home I put Gil Scott Heron’s “Lady Day and John Coltrane” on repeat. Then switched to the album Mystic Voyage by Roy Ayers Ubiquity. The sun was setting now, and the traffic had experienced exponential growth since this morning when the sun was rising. Still it was beautiful, I was in no hurry, and I had the music. I felt a sense of relative peace, but I had a million different questions running through my head.
Was my life’s goal to cure myself and the world of pain a righteous one?
This was the one troubling my soul. I had devoted a near lifetime to this problem, and my intentions were good. I didn’t want to suffer and feel the hurting anymore. Or at least I wanted to turn down that pain. I could help other people too, if I discovered something.
However, maybe Dr. Karim and Juliet were correct, that pain was simply part of nature’s way. Humans were a part of nature, and all of our existence. Yet, we had a special and unique power as humans, we could alter nature, and alter ourselves. Maybe all my unbearable pain had a purpose, to push me towards healing it, to make it better.
When I got back to Princeton and got home, I grabbed the records Dr. Karim had given me and took them upstairs to my apartment and placed them on the mantle. I would take them with me to my lab tomorrow. I grabbed all the letters and poems I had written to Juliet and put them in one large manila envelope, and wrote the last address I had for her on it. I went out into the cold night and went downstairs. Folding the big envelope a taco I put it in my mailbox and flipped up the flag. I went back upstairs and started to read “Faust” in bed. I slept better than I had in months. I dreamed about the ocean.
February 15, 2023
I made sure to grab Dr. Karim’s records before leaving for my lab in Trenton the following morning. The commute was easy after all the driving yesterday, and I was feeling positive.
I unlocked the door to the lab, it was already sunny inside.
I had every intention of listening to the amazing records Dr. Karim had given to me, but I woke up with a song stuck in my head, and I needed to scratch that itch. And I had the vinyl on my table Siren by Roxy Music. It was the first track on the first side: “Love is the Drug.” I put it on and let the music fill the room. “Love is the drug I am thinking of…”
Then I went to check on the brain and some experiments I had been running on it. There was something there. I had discovered something incredible, at least if what I was seeing was true, if what I was seeing was real. It was almost beyond belief. This was part of the answer. I heard choirs of angels singing. What would my colleagues think? This could heal so much hurting. We could end so much pain. My first instinct was elation, my next instinct was to destroy it.
The End.
Tracklist and Soundtrack for “The Unrequited Dreams of Dr. Feelgood”
All credit to the songwriters and musicians.
Tracks:
- “Better Off Alone” by Alice Deejay. Written by Sebastiaan Molijn and Eelke Kahlberg.
- “Praise You” by Fatboy Slim. Written by Norman Cooke and Camille Yarbrough.
- “Dreams” by the Cranberries. Written by Dolores O’riordan and Noel Hogan.
- “Head Over Heels” by Tears for Fears. Written by Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith.
- “Music Sounds Better with You” by Stardust. Written by Thomas Bangalter, Alan Braxe, and Benjamin Diamond. Chaka Khan sampled.
- “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra. Written by Bart Howard.
- “Lost Souls Forever” by Kasabian. Written by Christopher Karloff and Sergio Pizzorno.
- “I’m Not in Love” by 10CC. Written by Eric Stewart and Graham Goldman.
- “Bittersweet Symphony” by the Verve. Written by Richard Ashcroft.
- “Surf’s Up” by the Beach Boys. Written by Brian Wilson and Van Dyke Parks.
- “God Only Knows” by the Beach Boys. Written by Brian Wilson and Tony Asher.
- “Changes” by Black Sabbath. Written by Ozzy Osbourne, Tony Iommi, Geezer Butler, and Bill Ward.
- “Just The Two of Us (featuring Bill Withers)” by Grover Washington Jr. Written by Bill Withers, William Salter, and Ralph MacDonald.
- “The Very Thought of You” by Nat King Cole. Written by Ray Noble.
- “Lady Day and John Coltrane” by Gil Scott-Heron. Written by Gil Scott-Heron.
- “Love is the Drug” by Roxy Music. Written by Bryan Ferry and Andy Mackay
Albums:
- Innervisions by Stevie Wonder. Released for the Tamla Label for Motown Records in 1973
- Snowflakes Are Dancing by Isoa Tomita. Released on the Red Seal Label for RCA Records in 1974. All Compositions originally by Claude Debussy
- Mystic Voyage by Roy Ayers Ubiquity. Released by Polydor Records in 1975.
- Siren by Roxy Music. Released by Island Records in 1975
And a special thanks to Daft Punk, who is mentioned in the story but has no specific songs or albums. Daft Punk are Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo.
Daydreams of Paradise 