Some days are horrible, some days are wonderful, and then there are days like today – days where you feel invincible.
I went to bed early last night… Well, early for me. Before 11 pm. Without taking my shower, I just fell asleep early, and then I woke up at 4 am, reset the alarm for 5:45 (instead of 6, so I could shower…) and did NOT fall asleep again. I still had a headache, so I went for the ibuprofen, Tramadol, and all washed down with a mug of coffee, ate a banana, and headed off to work. While it kept the headache at bay, I also had lovely heartburn, something that I usually don’t have. At work, I trained not one, but two new dispatchers – one who is almost through with training and the other who started for the very first time today.
It was a busy day… Medical emergency that had me juggling two phone lines and the radios simultaneously, a couple of criminal mischief cases… and I’m just now wondering if I finished entering things in casebooks. If not, I guess I’ll be catching up on Friday!
When I got home, I drove my daughter to drama practice, knocked out the remainder of the Microsoft Excel homework, started to think about what I would write for the blog today, but unable to actually write anything because then it was time to pick up my daughter, pick up pizza for dinner, and finally come home to relax and write. And as I was beginning to come out of the adrenaline rush while waiting for the pizza to be ready (because I didn’t feel like cooking after that) my headache started to return just a little.
I’m thinking the cure for migraines is adrenaline. Up until the moment that you relax.
And now it is definitely time to relax and vegetate. Time to unwind and power down the brain for a while.
To compensate for the sparse writings for the day, I am going to post a fun video. I hope you enjoy.
Tomorrow is my midweek-weekend. I’ll be back for Wacky Wednesday. Until then, good night.
I originally started this particular blog in 2012, because I was following some stupid rules about how best to be a successful author and promote your book, blah blah blah (Not going to beat that dead horse, but if anyone is interested in the only one I’ve completed and published, explore a little and you’ll find it…) and of course, blogging about it was one of those things. But the truth is, there are millions of blogs out there, and who the hell reads blogs besides other writers of blogs? Oh, perhaps you stumble upon one or two when you are bored silly and randomly start pulling up Facebook posts of people you barely know who have somehow become the most important people in the Facebook feed due to that mystery algorithm? But mostly, the people who read blogs are the people who write them. Which is a crying shame, because there are many very wonderful blogs out there.
As I’ve also mentioned, this was not the first blog I started, nor the first blog that I abandoned… I abandoned this blog for over two years. I did more of my online over-sharing on Facebook like everyone else. From time to time, I’d write a “note” that 3 of my 600 friends would read, like, and comment on.
I found the Minuteman’s Wife blog that I started when the ex was deployed from the Individual Ready Reserve (hence the title…) and it was like a trip back in time to a place that always makes me ask myself if I was drunk for 13 years, but no, I don’t drink alcoholic beverages often enough or in large enough quantities (two sips usually gives me instant migraine) so I can’t even make that excuse.
There was one other blog out there, and I found it last night. It was through Live Journal, and it was not written in Cyrillic, so nobody will ever find it or read it. But I was enough into it to make 48 entries. 48! Each of those entries was a fake diary entry of a possibly mentally unhinged woman. A woman who woke up in a hospital to find that somehow, her life has shifted into another dimension of what might have been if she had done something different years earlier. Kind of a tale of a character like Emma speaking up instead of remaining silent in the scene where Robert passive-aggressively pushes her to prove that he’s messing with her mind.
The protagonist in the Live Journal story was named Jane. The antagonist? Robert. And… without even thinking, I’ve named the cheating husband in the Friday Fiction series Rob. What’s up with that? No, I am NOT a Robert Pattinson fan…
I’ve known some people named Rob/Robert, but nope, never dated any that I can recall. But it was the name of the grandfather I never met, my father’s father. And I like to use family names. Beyond that? No idea.
I have a friend named Kathy who said a while back that she always names her characters “Dave.” She named her Great Dane “Dave” as well. Just something about a name?
Of course, all names have meanings. The meaning for the name Robert is “bright fame.” I knew the “Bert” part was Bright – my great grandfather’s name was Cuthbert. What I did not know until just now is that the two names are basically the same. I used the name “Cuthbert” for a middle name for one of my boys.
Maybe my incessant use of the name “Robert” is a sign that I’m seeking bright fame? Perhaps… but I don’t want to deal with Paparazzi.
I wasn’t even thinking when I named the character in Lost and Found – I was just thinking in terms of giving names that don’t match any of the people in my immediate family or circle of friends.
I do think I am going to go through the Live Journal Fictional Blog and rework it, because I like the idea, which is from the notion that alternate planes of reality are created for each choice we make. Perhaps, last night, when that deer ran right in front of my van and I slammed on the brakes and missed it, another “me” didn’t hit the brakes fast enough, hitting the deer, setting off faulty airbags in my van that sent shards of metal into my heart and lungs, killing me or causing years of recovery. Hooray, melodrama.
Sometimes I do that, though – I think about the what-ifs. What if I left the house ten minutes earlier/later, and it put me at the wrong place at the wrong time? Or the right place at the right time? What if I had changed my major not from Russian but to English with an emphasis on Creative Writing? Would I be doing different things now, or would I still have found myself on the Law School to stay-at-home-mom track? What if, what if, what if?
It’s the meaning of life, isn’t it? Free Will vs. Fate. Is there some overreaching pattern that WILL be created, despite our choices, or do we wind around and create our own picture in the end? Maybe, no matter what choices we make, each path leads to the same place in the end. And there you have it, the spoiler alert: everybody dies in the end.
When I rework the alternate dimension story, I am going to change the name of the male lead character. I’m not sure what his name will be yet. Perhaps Cuthbert? Or maybe “Hopcyn.” 😉
Déjà vu is going to Goodwill and finding a chair that perfectly matches the hideous couch you threw away 12 years ago. It’s baaaack!
I just spent like half an hour responding to Send Sunshine‘s nomination for the Really Neat Blog Award, and I spent time linking six nominees, and coming up with questions and answers, and then, I managed, to click away, and I managed to do something that lost the entire draft, no pulling it back up this time…
So, here we go again.
The Rules!
1) Put the award logo on your blog.
2) Answer 7 questions asked by the person who nominated you.
3) Thank the person who nominated you, linking to their blogs.
4) Nominate any number of bloggers you like, linking to their blogs.
5) Let them know you nominated them (by commenting on their blog etc.)
If you could go anywhere in time, space, or reality, whom would you meet and why?
If you could relive any moment of your life, what would it be? Would you change the outcome?
If you had to eat the same food over and over again, what would it be?
You have just been cast into the fiery pits of Hell. What music is playing in the background?
Fly, sail, or rail? Which method of travel do you most enjoy?
You step in the shower, naked, and discover a rather large, non- venomous spider looking at you from the shower wall. What do you do?
What is the craziest/stupidest/most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?
Questions Asked of Me:
What is your favorite T.V or book series?
I have too many “favorites.” TV: Orange is the New Black, Battlestar Galactica, Jericho. Yes, I know the first one is online, the other two have already ended, but still… Book: Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Uglies, Abhorsen Trilogy, Hunger Games… I realize I am no longer an adolescent, but I still enjoy those books.
Do you prefer…Breakfast, Lunch or Dinner?
Yes. And Second Breakfast, Elevensies, and tea… Because I’m a hobbit, and that’s how we roll…
Morning, Noon or Night?
For what sort of activity? I love all three. But I hate waking up early in the morning.
The Beach, The Mountains, or a Wide Open Field?
While I love all three, I find the Ocean brings me the most peace and opportunity to reflect.
When was the last time you paid it forward?
I don’t typically think in terms of “Paying it Forward,” but I do like to do little things to help or bring joy to others whenever I can. I can’t really say when I most recently did so, though. I don’t keep track.
What is your dream of all dreams?
For myself: to be able to create honest, meaningful art in any medium I choose, weather it be literary, visual, musical, dramatic, or other. For my children: to be able to do that which they are most passionate about. For the world: that the environment flourish and grow, unharmed by the things which we have done and continue to do – that we human beings STOP causing harm to the planet and its species. For the Universe – that the music that creates all and is all continues to sound and be heard by all within.
Do you have a favorite font or how do you feel about writing in all CAPS?
I like simple fonts for big blocks of text, because I like to be able to focus on the content and meaning of the words rather than be distracted by the shapes of the letters. That said, I love artistic accents, like Black-letter, and Block lettering that you find in Fairy Tales:
Example found online here…
As for all CAPS – I think it’s fine as an accent. I know some people use it to indicate shouting, while others are just too lazy to be bothered with punctuation. Constantly writing in all CAPS makes things more difficult to read, and why place obstacles in communication? There is enough mis-communication in the world as it is.
Thank you again to Send Sunshine. Hope you all are having a wonderful Sunday Afternoon.
What’s this about? Please do not read today’s post if you are under 18, or if you are particularly squeamish.
The theater, the theater, what’s happened to the theater?
Oh. It’s not THAT kind of theater! Carry on, then…
What is this weird post all about? Have I missed something here? Get to the point! (See, I know what you’re thinking…)
Okay, get to the point. Right then…
I used to be very uptight, very prudish. Hell, I wore a bra to bed every night, along with whatever else I was wearing. Not just some easy-going sports bra, either – we’re talking under-wires. And then, I changed. Call it a mid-life crisis if you will, but I’d like to think the transformation started before I met Adam, and he was just the thing that pushed me over the edge.
So… When the kids were off visiting their father, we went to an adult store. I used to get embarrassed walking into “that section” in Spencer’s. Truth? We went to a normal adult store, and I was embarrassed, and didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone in the store. That bothered me. So, months later, when the kids were out of town again, we went to a different one.
I was going to save this for Weird Wednesday, but I’m not known for my patience
I’m not going to reveal locations here, I’ll just say that it’s not far from Gainesville, and this particular adult store has something more than your typical dildos, kinky lingerie, porn DVDs, or trapeze devices. This had something special. A theater. The sort of theater that destroyed Pee Wee Herman’s career.
They also have a set of booths in a separate room, but there didn’t seem to be anything happening in there. (Yes, we looked…) Whatever those were for, they had signs about “Paying customers only” and “only one person in the booth.”
But the theater… There is a sign on the door that lists pricing – it’s $20 for a block of time – I don’t recall how long. Three hours? But that price only applies to guys who go in by themselves. If a woman wants to go in and watch, it’s free, but she can’t enter alone – she has to take a male escort, and the male escort is also given free admission. Now, I consider myself a feminist, and initially, that triggered that little “Discrimination!” thing in my head, but after going inside – yeah. I don’t think I would want to walk into that place without a guy I knew, and a rather big, tough looking guy at that. The rule is there to keep peace, and to keep the place from getting shut down after a violent crime. Because let’s face it, we’re still not in a place where women can wander into a porn theater alone and not expect trouble.
Gay porn night is Tuesdays. Not sure how the couples thing works with that…
We walked in. It was dark, there was incense burning in the doorway, probably to mask the scent of sex. The room was filled with leather (or pleather?) love seats. There were several guys in the room. There was some sort of thing I can only call “Choke porn” on the screen.
Most of the guys were older. There was a guy wearing a baseball cap, t-shirt and shorts. He kind of reminded me of my father, except that as far as I know, my father wouldn’t go to a place like that. Nothing disturbing there, right? There was an older African American man toward the back of the theater, pants down, going to town on himself. As we walked in, they all turned and looked at us. We casually walked over to one of the sofas that wasn’t occupied and sat down. Some guy who looked like a Duck Dynasty person got up from a front row and walked out of the theater. Another guy with a pornstache, who was sitting in a sofa on the other side of Adam kept trying to make eye contact with me. They all seemed to expect us to be “part of the show.”
I went into “Mystery Science Theater” mode. To me, there is something comical about porn. I’m the obnoxious person in the room pointing out the bizarre tan lines, while Adam is pointing out the track marks. Some things to note: the dialogue always leaves something to be desired. Nobody in real life would be turned on by the stuff they say in porn. “Fuck my skull!” Um, ew?! And what is with the whole puking thing? How is that arousing, exactly? But, to each their own.
There was another old guy in there, we’ll call him “Mr. Grumpy.” He seemed to be with Duck Dynasty, who walked back in. They both kept kind of circling around us, and at one point, after Mr. Grumpy walked out for a bit then walked back in, he asked Duck Dynasty, “Are they doing anything yet?” with a nod toward us. Nope. We sure weren’t.
Then another couple walked in… A woman with white hair and a guy with a beard. Mr. and Mrs. Santa sat in the middle of the theater and proceeded to get pretty kinky. That was when the fun really started… the men all kind of circled around to watch, jerking off. Some of them were SO CLOSE to Mr. and Mrs. Santa, we wondered if they got an unexpected shower. You could hear the fapping sound between Mrs. Santa’s moans, that sound of rubbing.
We left before Mr. and Mrs. Santa finished what they were doing. It seemed wiser to make a getaway when there was less likelihood of Duck Dynasty and Mr. Grumpy following us.
Oh, yes, and the Dora picture above is something I found through a Google search, because I had seen it years ago. The toy actually came out in 2006. It wasn’t sold for long. Maybe they realized that they’d crossed a line…
Right about now, I’ll bet you’re wishing you’d read this BEFORE going to church this morning, so you could be spiritually cleansed? Okay, go enjoy the shower you probably want to take after reading this. I know I took a long one with industrial strength cleansers when I got home that night.
I finished my taxes earlier today… I don’t know why I procrastinated as much as I did – I knew I was getting a refund – but I guess part of it was that I am a little worried about last year’s taxes.
In the midst of the divorce battle, I filed as “single” after going through the rules step by step (I use Turbo Tax…) I obtained a refund, but later, as part of the divorce proceedings, had to file an amended return. I am still concerned about the whole “filing an amended” return. The thing is, I have not stayed on top of tax laws since graduating from law school in 1999, but I’m positive that if I’ve made a mistake, I’ll be treated as someone who should have known better. That’s the thing about a law degree – there is forever after an assumption that you should know better when it comes to anything legal or contractual in nature. It would be even worse if I were actively practicing law and I screwed up.
I am remembering the day that I found out that I failed the Florida Bar Exam for the second time, in 2013. It was April. It was a horrible month in general – the first day of the month, when the kids were supposed to come home from spring break, they were kicked off the flight because my daughter and her father were arguing. The next day, my brother and his wife kidnapped their kids and disappeared. Every day that month something bad seemed to happen, with one good thing – I met Adam in person for the first time. Or rather, for the first time as an adult, because apparently I met him when I was a kid, but I don’t remember that.
Penny at the bottom of the staircase
We had a dog who was nearing the end of her life. She was always the kind of dog who couldn’t be trusted with strangers, aggressively barking, jumping at the fence when she was outside… but as she neared the end of her life, she seemed to be experiencing some sort of dementia where she would forget who we were. She would sit at the bottom of the stairs in the apartment and “guard” the staircase. I was afraid she would bite one of the kids, and I knew that the decision to put her down was coming.
In April, for over a week, she was suffering from diarrhea. I was CONSTANTLY having to clean disgusting messes. I had gone to the mailbox before going inside, opened the letter from the state of Florida, read the bad news, and walked into the apartment to find yet another mess.
I remember cleaning the carpet with the spot steamer, crying about the bar exam, and at the same time realizing that under the feeling of disappointment in myself, I also felt something unexpected: relief. Relief that, for now at least, I didn’t have to go searching for a job as a lawyer. Relief that there was still an obstacle between me and that “grown up” job. I wasn’t ready. I’m not sure when I will be, though I have been seriously considering trying to find administrative work in a law office to gain more exposure. At any rate, I knew in that moment that I needed to take more time.
Within the next few weeks, Penny (our dog) lost bladder control. She would just be walking along and pee, not even realizing she was doing it. I was the only person who could put the leash on her – she bit other people. She loved Adam, used to put her head on his knees and love on him, but one day when he was walking her, he went to adjust the leash and she went for his neck. I knew then, though I didn’t want to, that I had to get her put down before she hurt someone. By this time, she had lumps on and around her head. I didn’t have them removed, because we had gone that route once before, and the operation she’d had at seven brought her misery, especially in having to be boarded overnight in a kennel. She never did well with that.
We had her put down in May, and the kids were present, and had the opportunity to say goodbye. That was their decision – I left it to each of them, and they all chose to be present. While it was a sad time, I knew that if I didn’t take care of it, she could really hurt someone. If that had happened, not only would I bear the guilt of what happened to whomever she harmed, but she would no doubt have been put down anyway, but spending her last minutes with strangers, lonely and afraid, instead of surrounded by the people who loved her.
Yesterday I was starting to write a cover letter to take around to local law offices, expressing interest in secretarial or legal assistant work, but I wound up being distracted by a mess in the living room. The little dog is becoming something of a brat about going out back… Anyway, cleaning up his mess, I decided to vacuum the fur from the rug under the table. My Dyson vacuum cleaner wasn’t working very well, so I looked at it and realized it was because there was too much fur and stuff caught up in the brushes in the roller. I wound up spending an hour and a half CLEANING THE HELL out of that vacuum. No, I didn’t just remove the crap from the brush rollers – I took that thing apart, WASHED parts of it, even took a bucket and a scrubby sponge and washed the extension cord. It doesn’t quite look “new” but it’s a hell of a lot cleaner than it was. It had about seven or eight years of accumulated dirt on the outside, and in some of the tubes. The reward was that it is working like new again. I love that vacuum…
The floors are all cleaned and scrubbed, the table, which I had neglected with all the other things (like 12 hour shifts, driving kids to and fro, etc.) is now scrubbed and cleared as well, and while I still have piles of stuff I need to sort, donate, toss, or put away somewhere, (why oh why can’t I have a magical closet that is bigger inside than it appears?!) the living room, dining room, and kitchen are all cleaner for now… The kids came home last night though, so we will see how long THAT lasts. The flight was without incident this year.
Sometimes life seems overwhelming. In 2013 it was an entire year of overwhelming. April felt like the entire month was April Fool’s Day. 2014 was also a very difficult year. But I am starting, piece by piece, to feel as though maybe, just maybe, things are falling into place. I don’t want to jinx it – I am a firm believer in Murphy’s Law – but let’s just say that at some point, things have to get better.
Back to the world of Janeen, Rob, Susie, Jake, Hector, and one really creepy security guard… I’m not even sure where I’m going with this as I start to write today. We shall see…
Just a warning: today’s content is not suitable for the under 18 crowd.
Janeen heard a thud as the remote control hit the tan carpet. She smiled. Yes, the corset was the thing.
“Um , Do you mind leaving it on for a while?” Rob asked.
“If you think I should…”
“It’s hot. Come here… Would you like a back rub?”
Janeen strutted over to the bed.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. I think tonight, I should take care of you. I know it’s rough doing all that traveling, staying in hotels… So tonight, I’m going to give you a little something to think about when you’re feeling lonely in that Holiday Inn in Milwaukee…”
She watched his face closely for a reaction, and thought she saw a moment of confusion.
“God, Janeen… Why can’t you do stuff like this all the time?”
“Maybe I could… If you were a good boy…”
She placed her right hand on his left foot and slowly ran her hand up his leg.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice cracking just a bit. Does she know? he wondered.
“Well, you haven’t been nice to me for a while,” she said. “I think sometimes you take things for granted.”
“You know I appreciate all you do for me and the girls!” He sounded defensive.
“Relax, Rob. I’m just playing.” She slipped her hand inside the leg of his boxers, working her way up and in. She slowly started to rub his hips, thigh, lower belly, circling the spot she knew he most wanted her to touch. She sensed his hand before she felt it, reaching, cupping her left breast. Leaning forward, she slipped down his boxers and began to use her mouth.
The alarm came all too soon. Rob groaned as he hit the off button. Whatever had gotten into Janeen last night, he hoped it would get into her again. He leaned over, kissing her softly on the cheek before standing up stumbling into the bathroom.
Maybe I should break things off with Susie.
It was going to feel weird, meeting her after work, going away with her for a couple of days, after last night. But he had already made the reservations, and paid for them. Maybe it would be better to go as planned, but discuss the future at the cabin.
Susie would probably be hurt. Yes, she was married, but he had the impression that it was just a thing of convenience at this point. He wasn’t sure what her husband did, just that he made a lot of money doing whatever it was he did, and that he spent a lot of time doing it. The time kept him out of town quite a bit, and she didn’t exactly seem like the type of person who handled alone – time well.
Rob flipped on the bathroom light. Damn. Why did those stupid lights above the mirror have to be so bright? Janeen insisted on the brightest bulbs so she could perform the scientific task of applying makeup every morning. It wasn’t exactly that he minded the makeup, he just found himself wishing she would go more natural sometimes. He sure hadn’t minded last night, though. He grinned. That corset was something else. But more than the sexy lingerie, the way she had taken control… She was relentless.
Quit thinking about it, and take your damned shower.
He turned on the water. He had a full day ahead at work. He didn’t want to fall behind schedule when he was already taking a day off tomorrow for the getaway. Plus, he wanted to leave on time, and do a little birthday shopping for Janeen. It wouldn’t do to piss her off with a lame gift at this point. Maybe he would buy her the iPhone she kept dropping hints about – and a pretty little sparkly case to go with it. Janeen was all about sparkly shit.
Susie stuffed her t-shirt and jeans into the bag without even folding them. She wondered where Rodger was taking her this time? Last time, he’d found a place with a Jacuzzi in the room. Not just any Jacuzzi, either – one that was shaped like a champagne glass. Sure, it was a little tacky, but it had been fun. It was in some mountain resort place, but they had barely left the room the entire time, ordering room service.
She opened her underwear drawer. What color? Not pink this time. She always seemed to wear pink. Time to change it up a bit… Red? No. Too obvious. Black. She pulled out a black lace thong and a matching bra. People always told her that black looked good with her golden blonde hair.
Susie stuffed some more clothes and her little toiletry bag in the overnight bag quickly. She didn’t have to say anything to Jake – he was gone again. He was gone when she got home from the mall. He hadn’t even mentioned going away this time. She had waited up for a while, wondering if he would show up. He didn’t always tell her when he was going away. At least he didn’t get upset with her when she went off for a few days. He told her it was okay, he knew she needed to have her fun.
Picture brought to you by someone at Cafe Mom, found by Google search engines.
The King James Version of the Holy Bible is once again being revised, with the new revision scheduled to be released some time in the fall of 2017. This new edition will be known as the Phil Robertson Version.
The new Bible will be more appealing to the modern day conservative, and is being created for those who struggle with the out-of-date language of the KJV, but who believe that the New International Version is for those damned Mexicans who keep sneaking across the border.
Some of the more user friendly changes include:
The Antichrist in the Book of Revelation will now be referred to as “Obama.”
The Virgin Mary will be replaced with “Joseph’s Little Wife.”
The term “Leprosy” will now be referred to as “Poverty.”
The Sermon on the Mount and the Beatitudes will be removed.
An appendix will be added to the story of Cain and Abel explaining why God values carnivores more than vegetarians.
Ronald Reagan will replace John the Baptist.
In addition to the new terms, the language of the book will be made simpler, more appealing to the folks living in “God’s Country.” Phrases like “Ya’ll”, “Fixin’ to” and other down-to-earth lingo can be expected.
Finally, the entire Bible will now be illustrated for those who are unable to achieve the level of literacy required to read and analyze the Holy Bible.
I’m still recuperating from a stomach thing that may or may not have been from the migraine that I think was brought on by the weather – I’ve been getting them all week… But I still want to share some weird stuff. So I’m going the lazy route and posting weird videos that I happen to love.
I’m going to set the bar high with the very first video… “Actual Cannibal Shia LeBoeuf.” This thing is a work of art:
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched this, nor can I tell you my favorite part, because the entire thing is a thing of beauty. It may just be the second closeup of the kid who says “Quiet, quiet,” though… This video definitely serves to make Shia seem just a little bit cooler…
Now, I’ve already posted my favorite Albino Black Sheep video, Up Butt!, but there are still some fun ones that are worthwhile.
Banana Phone with Badgers. What’s not to like?
Or, if you’re at all familiar with Harry Potter, here’s a catchy little tune:
For a while, I was addicted to Songify This. The Backing Up song is the absolute best:
I just know that if I ever wound up on the news for anything, that would be me – the weird person whose video goes viral because it’s just so bizarre.
And just in case there is anyone left out in Cyberspace who is not yet acquainted with Samwell, there is this, but don’t let your kids watch:
That’s it for today. I think next week I’m going to write about some weird toys. If you have any ideas you think should be included next week, feel free to bring them to my attention in the comments below.
I’m off to rest some more. I’m drained, like the battery in my van that I’m hoping will start in the morning… (And I just bought it last fall! I suspect the stupid alarm is malfunctioning…)
Hooray. I did the homework and got it turned in, and even though I feel like I’m nursing a headache or something (truth be told, I haven’t felt quite right since the weekend, but I try to work through most yucky feelings…) I want to write a bit more, because the whole point of the blog is not simply to entertain the Cyber masses, but to practice the actual skill of writing, and grow accustomed to writing each and every day. While embedding little “I’m annoyed today” videos on my blog page may make for fun entertainment, it’s not giving me the actual practice of writing as a discipline. And frankly, working through tedious Microsoft Excel exercises isn’t, either, though it is a rather valuable skill. So here I go with a description of another fun dream.
I really do wish I had written it down, because it had some elements of dystopia that were a little intriguing, and I’m not sure I can recall much of it now, after a long day.
First of all, when I refer to “we” in this dream, I’m not even fully certain whom “we” defines. I was present, but not really myself, rather like one feels when one is reading a novel.
Something had happened to the world, something that made the air fill up with a rather chalky substance. While people would still go outside for limited times, most were living in homes that were at least partially underground, and limiting the outdoor time to avoid breathing was in the air. But people weren’t living in great, connecting burrows – nope. They were in individual homes for the most part, living rather independently of one another. The dream focused on two females, one of whom I viewed from a first person point of view. To simplify things, I will use first person pronouns when referring to her, though she was quite a bit younger than I.
So, “I” went up to the room closer to the surface, an open, garage sort of room, and looked out to where some relatives were working in the chalky air for a while, trying to repair something. My sister in the dream was a little lonely, and perhaps bored, had cabin-fever, etc., so I wound up scheduling a visiting fairy tale reenactment service to come and cheer her up.
The way the service worked was that the recipient was treated to a sort of makeover in which he or she was converted into a character from a story, then became part of a reenactment. Think Disney’s Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique combined with a sort of mystery theater interactive game. I chose Cinderella, because for some reason, I felt my rather shy sister would feel less threatened by that fairy tale than any of the others. Unfortunately, I awoke before the Prince and crew arrived to create the special event.
I don’t dream every night. Some of my dreams make more sense than others. Some of them are downright creepy, like the dream that seemed to come straight out of a Twilight Zone episode in which there was an airplane that somehow became suspended in mid-air, no longer moving.
I’ve long been fascinated by dreams, as anyone who read the one and only novel I’ve completed could probably guess. There are dreams and then there are dreams… Some escape your memory before you can even awaken, while others haunt you for days, weeks, months, even years.
I’ve read some of those “Dream Analysis” books that tell you what different elements in dreams are supposed to mean, but I’m not sure I completely buy into that idea. Sure, there may be archetypes that cross individual dreams and even cultures, but as not everyone has the same hopes, fears, and associations with any given object or animal, I don’t put too much store in some book telling me that to dream about a butterfly always means symbolic transformation. When we had a pantry moth problem, my daughter was afraid of moths for a while, and I think at that point, a butterfly in her dream would have been something kind of creepy to her, even if it was pretty.
Seeking a bit of interaction here – what are some of the more interesting things you’ve dreamed about? Do you dream every night? Do you recall the dreams? Do you have any recurring dreams?
People often use the word “dream” interchangeably with hope, aspirations, and wishes. But how often do the bizarre things that pop into your head while you are asleep reflect what you really seek in the waking world? I think more often than not, we are just dreaming about weird stuff like accidentally showing up to work/school/church stark naked.
In addition to some really fun dreams, in which I’ve explored alternate worlds that exist behind waterfalls, or in rooms accessible only from attics, I’ve had my share of disturbing dreams and nightmares.
When I was about sixteen, I had a major ear infection, and a physician prescribed a decongestant called “Singlets” which I now know were a combination of Pseudoephedrine hydrochloride, Chlorpheniramine maleate, and Acetaminophen. The week I was on those pills, I had some of the most vivid and disturbing death dreams I’ve ever had in my life. Every night someone else died in my dream, starting with an acquaintance who was murdered, his body stuffed into a metal trashcan under the bleachers in our high school football stadium. To this day, the murder victim is alive, thank heavens.
Another night killed off my poor mother. I don’t recall how she died in the dream. She is also still alive and relatively well.
The last night I had the dreams (and I think I stopped taking them the day before) I dreamed that my paternal grandmother died. That was no surprise – she had leukemia at the time, and we knew she wouldn’t be around too much longer. But the dream didn’t stop there…
Some of the neighbors in the dream were making snide remarks about how we were all just after her stuff. Trust me, while she collected many artifacts from around the world, most of them were not things that we could really fit into our daily lives, and were therefore donated to museums.
At some point in the dream, I became depressed. Not really like me… There have been times I don’t feel like fighting, but that’s more of a mild depression brought on by crap in life getting to me, and usually I can have a good cry, take a nice hot bath, and wake up feeling better the next morning. Sometimes I have to do things to distract myself from my troubles. But the depression in the dream was far more intense.
The dream itself was vivid. The patterns on things like the bed spread on my bed were all very realistic. I shared a room with my little sister at that time, and we had twin sized beds. In my dream, I lay sideways across the twin sized bed, my legs dangling from the bed so that my feet touched the floor. In that dream, I wished I were dead.
There are times in my life when I’ve felt as though words or feelings have gone out of my being with an energy that I can’t explain, something almost tangible, and that feeling or those words, that energy, have gone into the universe in much the same way that a real, physical object can move and contact another object. In this dream, the words “I wish I were dead” had that sort of feeling. And immediately, in that dream, everything went black and spinning. There was a void, and I was falling into it. And some little piece of me realized I did not want to go there, and managed to form the thought, “No! I don’t really want to die.”
At that moment, I woke up.
Did I truly wish to die in that dream? No, I don’t think I did, at least, it’s not what I would choose for myself under normal circumstances. Spoiler alert: in the end, we die. Everybody dies. But I sure as hell didn’t want to die at sixteen. I don’t particularly want to die now!
So nope, “dreams” should not be used to describe one’s hopes or aspirations. More often than not, the stuff that works its way through our brains while we sleep has nothing to do with what we want.
And yet, the really fun dreams make us wish we could curl back up in bed and dream the day away.
K.E. Wilkinson 