Spellbinding stories of mystic love and soulful hope . . .

Archive for the ‘dreams’ Category

My “WTF is wrong with you?” brain and the hotel experience . . . LAWD!

Upon entering hotel, sniff. If the hotel smells funny, a little nitty-ass irritating squeaky little fucker in brain thinks, “Hmmm, what’s that? Are they not cleaning the hotel regularly?” Then do a visual once-over, glancing around lobby and desk area, and if clean and sparkly, sigh with relief and check in. Also, the once-over is to check for Weirdo Men. Weirdo Men are men who will try to catch your name and room number and then follow you to the elevator and then to your room, whereupon they turn into maniacs who push you into room and have their way with you and then . . . then .  . .  *don’t think about it.* It can happen, that little squeaky-voiced feker says.

After check-in, and no one pays you any mind except for that one dude who grins at you and says, “Evening,” and you smile fetchingly and say, “Evening,” and the squeaky voiced pecker-head says, “The handsome friendly ones are the maniacs, you fool!,” you enter room, notice scent. If not fresh, then see above. If fresh, sigh with relief and a La Tee Dah air of comfort.

Luggage must go on top of something—in the case there are verminy critters running around, you don’t want them climbing into your luggage and setting up residence, where they will happily make a new home once you arrive back at the little log house. Lawd! Little bastard vermins. Even if the hotel is sparkly clean, a “nice” hotel, vermin are sneaky little shitters. Remember reading how even five-star hotels with 2000 thread-count sheets have been cited for vermin. Yeah. You read that somewhere. Uh hunn, and heard it on the news! Yeah.

*maniac played, unwillingly and unknowingly, by Charles Mills*

Check under the bed—sigh with relief if the bed is one of those kinds where nothing or no one can get under them. Check the closet—maybe a maniac is hiding in there. Try to ignore the thought that if a maniac IS hiding in there, as soon as you open the closet he will jump out and maniac your ass to a bloody pulp.

Go to bathroom, look around. Notice things and nod head in satisfaction. Pee. Hope toilet seat is as clean as it looks. Look in shower—better not be any gunky crap or else feet will tingle when in shower because you will imagine invisible nasties crawling onto feet from the shower floor.

Back in the main room, pull back covers and inspect sheets. Are they a crisp blinding white? Well, they better be! Wait! Are those pillow cases wrinkled? Wrinkled from someone else’s head? There’s about six pillows on that bed. Maybe the cleaning crew was mixed up and only thought they changed all of the pillow cases—sniff test. Ewwwww! Two of them smell like someone’s head. You do not sleep on head-scented pillow cases! Ewww! Throw the two pillows that smell heady on the floor so won’t accidentally grab them in the night and hold them close. Use un-heady scented pillows. Sniff sheets—you never know; smile with relief when they smell fresh. Ahh.

You usually wipe the remote with anti-bacterial wipes or lotion, but! you saw this genius solution on a rerun of the sitcom “Til Death”—it was supposed to be “funny” as in “this dude is really freaking nuts” kind of funny, but your pea-headed brain went, “OHHH! Hooya!” Take a baggie, pick up the remote with the baggie, turn it inside out to where hotel remote is in baggie, and you can push the buttons through the plastic, never once having to touch nasty old remote. Ha! Yeah you are so clever!

Time for beddy-bye! BUT! OH NO! LAWD! LAWD! Sheet inspection isn’t over. You must remember to wake around the magical hour of between 2AM and 3AM—anywhere in that time-span—to quietly grab your cellphone, gently lift the covers and AHA! Shine the cell light on the sheets where your legs are to make sure no bedbugs are there, because somewhere you read, and saw on the news, or someone told you, that the magical hour for bedbugs is around 2AM. Sigh with relief when all is well. Sleep comes easy.

Alien Seed Pod Pouch! LAWD!

Then the dreams come.  About aliens who live in the mattress and scare the bejeebus out of you, then have a dream within a dream where you wake and say, “Whew, glad that mattress alien was only a dream,” and suddenly! The mattress moves and undulates—“AAAUUGGH! It IS real! There IS a hotel mattress alien! AHHHHHHGGGHHH!” Wake up again, for real, sigh with relief that there are no hotel mattress-living aliens that look strangely like weird babies with high intelligence who look at you askance and as if you are “not quite right.”

Push one of the heady pillows over the light coming from the door, and the other heady pillow over the clock light. Finally fall into exhausted sleep.

Morning comes.  You rise. No aliens, vermin, critters, heady pillows, or maniacs have entered the blissful sanctum of your hotel room.

Take shower. Come out of bathroom nekkid. Wait! Can people see into your room through the spy-hole? Omg! Next time remember to bring a piece of tape to put over the spy hole. Grin.

Check out. Hope nothing but your own luggage and personal germs have left with you.

What? Who me?

Think, while flying down the interstate with the music blaring and wind tossing your hair: You are one cray-cray bitch, Miss Kathryn Magendie. One completely cray-cray bitch.

But you don’t care.

Wednesday F4A: Strange Occurrences – Shadow Men, Strange Lights, and Synaptic Weirdness abounds? . . .

There are things we simply cannot explain. They may seem as if a dream, but we know they are unlike any dream we’ve ever had—somehow we sense they aren’t dreams at all, but something more, and what that more is, we cannot exactly fathom. As when we dream of a friend or loved one after they have died, and though we may dream of them many times, there is that one particular dream that is Different and in that difference we feel there is a message or something we should pay attention to or some, dare I say, visitation perhaps?

I wrote a few years ago about the Shadow Man who visited me. I was asleep on the couch and I awoke and there “he” was – darker than the night, a “living shadow,” a complete dark shadow man. Though I saw no features, I “knew” he watched me as I slept. One hand was draped casually on the back of the couch. I thought, “Who is this? What is this?” but I fell back into sleep again, unafraid.

A went back to the couch several nights to see if he’d return, but he did not. I at last went into in my living room, in my nightgown and slippers, my hair wild and my eyes searching, and didn’t feel silly a bit as I said, “Go home, okay?” Maybe he did.

A shadow man had come before, right after my beloved brother died, in 1994. Oh-so-briefly he was at the side of the chaise longue I’d fallen asleep on. That time I was startled and afraid and he left very quickly—perhaps it was my brother and he sensed my fear and left me. I sense someone, David?, beside me the next day of his funeral, walking with us. I know I did. Imagination? Wish?

Then came the night about a year ago where I closed my eyes and I do not know if I was awake or asleep or in that strange in-between, but I saw this incredible light, inside my head not in the room, and the light glowed like no other light, and a “doorway” appeared, and in that “doorway” I saw a shadow man. This shadow man was taller and thinner than the one at the couch. He stood in the “doorway” and behind him was that light, and I felt this incredible peace, this sense of well-being. I hate to say it, but I felt what people describe when they have a near-death experience, except of course I was not and am not dead—lawd, maybe you all can verify this for me by acknowledging my existence *laughing* lawd.

Then, a few nights after that, I saw the light again, but this time it was very brief and much more like lightening, brighter and more intense, but flashed and flashed and then was gone. My synapses run amok? I’m having strokes and don’t know it? I’m going insane? I’m just weird and that’s that and that’s that? Who knows. Perhaps my brain is in over-drive. It oft-times is, in different ways. But it peaks my curiosity.

Is all of this connected? Am I losing my mind? *laughing* I think a writer’s, or anyone else’s, imagination is a wondrous thing, and I like to think I stay in the reality of knowing some things are imagination and some things are explainable and some things unexplainable simply because I unintentionally make them more than they are, or simply because they are anomalies I cannot explain away.

What of the light? A dream? What of the shadow man watching me as I slept on the couch? Another dream? Who are these shadow men? What do they want? Or if I have conjured them, why have I? What is the purpose of it? Oh, the mysteries!

The last image I will share is one I had when my father was dying this past October, and at this time he was in a coma-state. I laid beside him many hours, but in this particular time, I had my head against his and I fell deeply asleep—we were all so exhausted—and I had this most beautiful surreal dream that was unlike any I’d had before. In this dream was a gorgeous horse and the horse galloped up up up into the blue sky. Sometimes I think the horse itself was blue, but now I have a hard time remembering that. Mostly, I remember the horse gracefully galloping into the clouds above and then I woke with an incredible peace and serenity, and a wondrous awe. I felt, well, special, for having seen this horse.

I assure you, I am perfectly sane (hahahahha –my friends and family beg to differ. Haw!) But when I write all this, it all sounds a little “out there and woo woo.” Maybe having a “creative mind” brings things both conjured and not conjured, and I accept this as theory/fact/zippity do dah zippity ay. Maybe the brain is too active on the creative/non-logical side and flips and blips and snaps—wheeeeee!

Not long ago, I watched a show on National Geographic about savants (I am not a savant, I am not saying or implying that) whose brains were affected at birth or by a trauma and the “creative side” was more alive and active than the “logical side” – the logical side was almost “dead.” These savants were Mega Ultra Creative – some no longer leading “normal” lives. I wonder, then, and it seems plausible, if some creative minds are somewhere in between, caught in some kind of synaptic wonderland that causes blips in the brain, and thus . . . well, these kinds of occurrences that seem “odd” or like dreams or imaginations come and go and we are left scratching our pea-heads about them. *shrug* beats me! *laughing*

What about you? What “strange” or surreal occurrences have you experienced that you’d like to share? If you have never had any, then what do you think about those of us who do? Be honest!

They’re coming to take me away, haha heee hee ho ho, to the loony farm, where all the writers go ..ha ha heehe they’re coming to haul me alway ha ha

I couldn’t sleep last night. I tossed. I turned. I turned. I tossed. My synapses fired off -one two three fifty-five-thousand-and-four. I had benign thoughts like, “What should I wear to the book signing reception on Friday?” My pea-headed brain went through the contents of my closet (such as I could remember) and rejected rejected rejected — then my thoughts turned to how I needed to clean out my closet — then my thoughts turned to shoes – then to how I needed to get rid of some shoes — then should I go buy something sparkling new for the signing – then no, I shouldn’t; I have enough stuff and in fact wasn’t I just saying I needed to get RID of some stuff?

Then my brain went over here and over there and over yonder. Boing boing boing boing!

I thought, “Oh! I hope I am here when my books get here (today? tomorrow? the next day?) so I can take a photo of the delivery person hauling my box out of the delivery truck!” Them my brain went off on that — oh! I can take a photo of that, and then the box, and then me opening the box, and then me pulling out the books, and then the book on my bookshelf, and then I can put it all on my blog… on and on I went.

Then I thought about what Marta Stephens did and thought what a good idea it was: she had people take a photo of themselves holding her book(s) and then posted them (with permission) to her site! See Here at Marta’s Site, and the photo I did to the left, teehee. So, I thought how much fun that could be if y’all who get a Tender Graces book could take a photo of yourselves with it and send it to me to post! Huh? Huh? what do you think? huh? boing boing boing boing boing boing!

Then I had a very detailed dream that I was in a nursing home – no, not as a resident, but visiting – or something. And I can clearly see these elderly women–the lives they led and the lives they lead. A few of them fell and I rushed to help them and felt their frustration and anger at how they couldn’t do as they used to. Their hair was perfectly coifed, their make-up done beautifully, their clothing neat and as if to say “I am ready to go – -somewhere, anywhere…” It was an interesting dream, but I’m not sure what it meant.
So, on and on and on and on and on goes my brain – bam bam bam boing boing boing! My face is breaking out and I’m trying to stop that before Friday *laughing* I have bags under my eyes. I am excited and terrified! By time Friday comes, who knows what I will look like *haw!!!*

And all the books are on their way to the places and people who have ordered. God. Oh geez. Oh oh oh oh!!!! Yes, I am using the dreaded Exclamation Point!!!! — laughing….

I have to say this. I know that not everyone who visits my blog or knows me or whatever’s me will buy my book – or can buy it – or wants to buy it — or whatever. No one has to explain or apologize for not purchasing my book – I mean that. Join in on the conversation and excitement and whatever all you wish to, buy a book if it moves you to, but never feel you have to explain to me or apologize because you aren’t purchasing TG….I mean that from the bottom of my heart. I love you for supporting in any way you feel moved: by coming by here and visiting, by sending me best wishes, by cheering me on — it all means so much to me, whatever it is! Okay, that’s said – now……………….
BOING BOING BOING BOING BOING BOING!!!!!!!
image: google image http://www.irishabroad.com

Exit light, enter night…off to where-ever-land

I don’t know why this Mongoose cartoon made me laugh so much, but it did! teeheehee

Friends, your books should soon be on their way. It’s about that time, yes. I will get an exact date, but from what I understand, they will begin to ship next week; I think early next week. If you wanted one with a signed bookplate, be sure that you marked that — if you get one that doesn’t have one, I’ll be happy to send you one if you email me (unless it’s not too late to let BB know you want a signed copy). I tried to make the bookplates as special as I could.

I can’t wait to get mine. I can’t wait to hold one in my hands. I will smell the pages. I will put it on my bookshelf and step back and see how it looks and then take a photo of it. Oh, I hope I am never jaded and blaise about this!

I had the strangest dreams last night. I suppose they are “stress dreams.” Anxiety. Along with all my happiness and excitement, I do have the anxiety — it’s all a big swirley mess in my pea-headed brain. One of my dreams was about this strange place I came upon. It was a community of what I thought were an isolated strange people. But, when I came close to the community, which turned out to be only indoors, never outdoors, I noticed the eyes of the “people” — they were black and spacy. Seems some “mad scientist” type had made these people – grown them – or something – and there were a good many of them. It was creepy. What did he have planned with them, I don’t know because the dream slid into something else (and if I were someone who wrote thrillers or supernatural books, this dream would facilitate a creepy creepy book)…

…the dream morphed into where I was in a house and there was a man who hated us (me and whomever else was with me)….he wanted to harm us….there was an explosion in one of the rooms of the house (and it is said that houses in dreams are representations of our minds?)- we got out in time, but then I walked back into the room where the explosion occurred and there was a HUGE statue that seemed made of dark dark wood and in the arms of this dark dark wood statue was an infant…and then the statue began cracking open some, the arms that held the infant became more human than wood, and the statue opened its arms out to give the child back to us — it had protected the infant from harm and it was the most beautiful thing – so beautiful. I can see the statue so clearly this morning: a broad dark face, with a broad nose, strong features, strong arms, a solid body – female.

Strange strange dreams. I’ve always had vivid dreams, since I was a child – and I even remember some of my childhood dreams (the more terrifying ones). I was plagued with nightmares from childhood until we moved to these mountains….then suddenly, when we moved here, the nightmares pretty much stopped -isn’t that something? Every so often I’ll have a bad dream, but mostly when I’m really stressed or worried or something that facilitates it. The mountain cove has been magical for me – healing. My dreams are still vivid at times, but more gentle to me. So last night must be worry stress dreams!

Thing is, I’m filled with gratitude and happy feelings for my Dream of this novel coming to life in the pages of a book. I know my anxious thoughts are those where I heap expectation on myself to be “successful” – to not let anyone down – to be “perfect” – and no one can be all these things, not really – not in reality. But, I am like that – fall headlong into things with passion and then soon grow bored with them and the passion fades: EXCEPT!…except when it comes to literature, writing, books, and my writing life. That is the one area I have never grown bored with, the one where my passion flares hot and steady and true – my constant.

What about you? What did you dream last night, if you dreamed and remember it. Do you have “stress dreams?”

(PS – Update on TG orders – BB has said the books should start to be shipped out on Monday…so you all should start receiving them soon! Oh! I’m so nervous…..! but excited too!)

On the day that I was born….la la la tee dah…

NOTE FROM KAT! I’m laughing at myself – I kept wondering “why are people wishing me a happy birthday?” then I looked back over my post and the title *laughing!* what a dummy I am — Okay, today isn’t my birthday – it’s actually later this month….but, I’ll accept birthday wishes and chocolate and gifts and botox for my forehead butt and…..laughing….*knock on my head*

When I get up in the morning, it’s log in log in log in log in check this check that…I think I have too many places to go and people to see *laugh* … but while I’m doing that, sometimes I’ll come across the MSN page or Google page and see something that’ll distract me/catch my eye and send me off on a tangent so that I “waste” part of my morning.

Like….what moon were you born under? here’s mine: On the day you were born, the Moon was in Capricorn. Your emotional nature is very earthy and direct. You use caution before you show your feelings to someone, since you fear rejection. But you shouldn’t! You have loyalty and love to offer a romantic partner, you take care of your family members, and you have a very dry and witty sense of humor with those who know you.

And, while I was thinking about being born, I put “1957” in google just to see what would show up.

I was feeling silly then, and just out of curiosity, I typed “my toe” into google…

Then I went by the Dream Dictionary and looked for “Giant Chicken” but it wasn’t there! Humph. Well, dang it all, guess I’ll never figure out the meaning of the giant chicken dream. However, when I googled about giant chicken dreams (which was interesting and in some cases a bit disturbing), I found where apparently someone else had a giant chicken in their dream! ha!

Then I read how the planet Uranus was first named George. Huhn. So. I guess it was the knowledge that in classrooms everywhere children would twitter whenever the teach would say, “And the planet Uranus…” *twitter twitter wink wink – did you hear that, she said ur-anus…twitter twitter*… no one thinks George is very funny or even very interesting – sorry George’s of the world – it’s a perfectly fine name, just not for a planet I suppose.

What kinds of places do you like to browse? Any funny or interesting sites you want to share?

Okay, I need to get to work now -but first, I’ll come round visting!

(I have a story up, too *smiling* on Sotto Voce…something a little different from my usual.)

I can see clearly now, my vision board is done…

One day I watched Oprah and they were talking about vision boards — in fact, someone in their blog yesterday was talking about them too and I wish I could remember who so I could link them (here she is Serenity Room). I laughed when Oprah said, “I have to get one of those!” and the woman said, “Oh no, Oprah, you have to make one for yourself…” and Oprah said, “Oh! of course, yes! and I will!”

My first thought was, “Huhn. Who has time for that?” Then the skies opened – my vision cleared! Wait! This could be it! The answer to all my dreams come true. The way to success through simple cutting and pasting! WOW! Yippeee! Or I was bored, or curious, or feeling inspired, or didn’t want to let Oprah down. Anywhodlydoo, this was in spring or summer. The windows and doors were open to let in the cool mountain air. The wind caused the leaves on the buckeye and the tulip poplar and the walnut tree to wave at me, as if to say, “Go on, do it…do it…do it…”

I feverishly looked through magazines and sale circulars and Reader’s Digests and catalogues—looking for the perfect images to paste on my vision board. I used one of Good Man Roger’s canvasses as my board.

I’d meant to add to it as days went by, but being the kind of person I am, I “finished” it within a few days and stuck it away somewhere. Um, I think you are supposed to stare at it daily and imagine those things happening. Oops.

When I read someone’s blog about vision boards, I retrieved mine and stared at it, looking to see if anything on it had come true. There was one image that immediately drew my attention. A woman on horseback looked almost exactly like the woman on horseback in the trailer Bellebooks made for Tender Graces. Huhn. Maybe? Maybe? When I created the board, I didn’t know I’d have a publisher for TG. Perhaps some of the other pasted things were hints: published author, southern novels, etc.

Maybe I need to keep it out and stare at certain other things, like the photos of dollar bills representing certain amounts of cash (teehee). The picture that reads, “Win a trip to Italy!”(ohhh!) The photo of my dream bathroom (ahhhh). The one about saving the mountain from developers (um, now that I think about it, this one sort of came true as development has slowed and even stopped in some areas…huhn), the magazines I hope Tender Graces will be mentioned in—you know their reader’s corners where they point out great books to read at the beach or while in the tub. I have non-selfish things there, too, of course – but to go into all the stuff on my vision board would bore everyone to tears.

What do you think about visualization? About positive energies bringing to you what you desire? For sure, positive energies make us feel better. I think the greatest thing I received from that show was the idea of Gratitude. To have a sense of thankfulness for what you do have, instead of lamenting what you do not. It’s hard to feel down when you are listing the things or people or places you feel grateful for.

So, there’s that woman on horseback, and there’s the woman in the trailer who matches her – maybe I’m stretching it? Or, maybe, just maybe …
———

Don’t forget to enter the “contest” – write your 200 words or fewer in the comments—see the image to the right and click on it for instructions.

Now, I’m going to take a mountain walk and then see how the inaugural celebrations are going!

(Note – am watching now – how can you not feel emotional? Oh, Pearlman is playing his violin and Yo Yo his cello — I could cry; oh how lovely. how lovely. how lovely.)
(google stock image from: http://www.inmagine.com/)

Dream a little dream of… Giant Chickens?

Maybe I was feeling some inner guilt for eating the chicken and dumplings, or as I called them: “Dump-er-lings, since I just dumped stuff in the pot. After all, I am what has been coined by someone somewere as a “Flexitarian;” meaning, I will eat seafood/fish, and sometimes, rarely, I’ll eat some kinds of meat and never others. I made my easy pleasy chicken dumplings because Good Man Roger loves them – and since he usually does the cooking, it was a chance for me to doodle-dee-doo around in the kitchen. (And to sweeten the pot, so to speak, he made the recipe even easier, of which is below.)

So, since I ate the chicken in the chicken and dump-er-lings, I dreamed about chickens come to attack the city – or someone’s city. There was one HUGE giananticus chicken–big as a seven story building!–and then all that chicken’s little mean pecking chickens. They swarmed all over and created havoc unknown to man ever! The giant chicken did that staring in the window thing -it’s cold beady empty-headed eye appraising…oh! shudder!
Then I dreamed I was on an episode of Scrubs – the one where they did a musical – and I was dancing around singing, “Boop oop ee doo, boop oop ee doo, boop oop ee doo be doo bee doo oop oop a doooOooOO-Bee Do!” All the while I had a bathtowel wrapped around me – even though I was wearing clothes. Huhn. Really. I did dream that.

Ah well, my good friends – what did you dream last night? Or are you one of those who never remembers their dreams? If anyone else dreamed of giant chickens, well — ! –!

Oh, and don’t forget the contest for the book-give-a-way; look below, or to the right in the column where instructions are -just click on the image.

Now, for my chicken and dump-er-lings. I swear this is the easiest thing. You can also boil your own poor little chicken and make your own stock. You can make your own biscuit dough, too. I used to do all that. Or you can be a lazy-arse cook that I’ve become and do what I did (and Small Footprints- I bet you’ll think of a good vegetarian way to make this!):

(Photo not mine) In olive oil, I sauteed half an onion until soft (I added a pinch of salt too and something I never add, just a pinch of Cavendar’s -just to see how it would taste), then added a little garlic, and when that was cooked down, I added just a bit of flour and stirred it around. Then I poured in a box of Emeril’s chicken stock; and let that work on coming to a boil. Meanwhile, I threw some flour on a cutting board, opened a can of Grand Biscuits (not the butter ones-they’ll melt too much!) and then smashed flat the biscuits and then cut them into strips. When they were all cut up and the stock boiling, I added the biscuit strips to the stock. I had already cut up into bite-sized pieces the chicken from a deli chicken GMR bought (yup, didn’t even have to make my own stock, or boil my own chicken, or make my own biscuits – laughing!) – and after the dumplings had began to cook through, and this doesn’t take long, I added the cut up chicken. I let that simmer a bit and added salt and lots of pepper (I like lots of pepper in mine). Finally, I added cream (or milk, or whatever – it just makes a nice southern white gravy) and let it cook a bit. We like ours thick and creamy. Then, you eat, and if you are a Flexitarian, you feel kinda gross you’re eating chicken and then when you go to bed, you dream about giant chickens and its little chicken helpers running into a city to creat havoc upon the land.
(google images from theinspirationroom.com and ourfamilycookbook.com)

Mr. Sandman, send me a… scream?..la la la la…

I can’t sleep.

Of course, whenever we say, “I didn’t sleep a wink last night,” it’s not really the entire truth. We sleep, here and there. But here and there isn’t enough. And didn’t I say in a post below that when a 51 year old woman doesn’t sleep, it shows? And when she doesn’t sleep enough for days and days, it really really shows? You should see me in the mornings—no, I take that back, you should not. The boy-short hair standing on end, the wild fatigued eyes, et cetera et cetera et cetera.

Last night I was filled with anxiety and that anxiety got on my last nerve. I fussed at myself, like this, “I simply can not BE-LIEVE you are anxious! This should be one of the best times of your life! Come on! You got what you wanted, right?”

But, the anxiety shimmered over me like some weirdling fog. That hovering mist of apprehension was so thick; my husband felt it when he walked into the bedroom. I lay on my back, legs stuck out straight, my arms folded over my stomach—hands clenched—my eyes open and staring into the dark. I radiated worry.

I had to take deep breaths. I had to remind myself of gratitude. For it’s hard to feel worried and anxious when you are listing the things that make you thankful. But anxiety is a stubborn ole mulish thing.

I know what my problem is. It’s the “I need to please everyone and I need to make sure I do this perfectly and I need to be the best and the most best and the bestest of the best and nothing else will do and I need to make sure I don’t stumble (even though that’s what people do, stumble sometimes) and I need not to mess this up and I need to be over HERE instead of over THERE because over THERE is just a bit better than over HERE even though HERE was perfectly fine a couple of days ago.”

No wonder the fog wets the room, hangs there. Heavy.

I toss and turn. I think of things I should be doing, could be doing, would be doing if I weren’t lying in bed.

When sleep came, I dreamt of giant dinosaurs and we had to run and hide from them in a big building. This is a recurring dream – it must be a childhood anxiety dream, for variations of it haunt me from time to time. Not so bad in the bigger scheme of nightmares I’ve had, for when I awake, I usually laugh at the B-movie-ness of those dinosaur/monster dreams; however, while having them they are quite “real” – the feeling of “I must get away from the monster! I must run in this building and the monster is right behind me and oh oh oh hurry hurry – the doorknob to the building is right there – will I reach it in time—oh oh, the monster is gaining….OH OH OH – I reach the door with my back tingling not knowing if the monster is about to tear into my flesh, throw open the door, run inside, and then I run run run up stairs or in an elevator, and hope the monster can’t get me. Pant Pant Pant Pant.”

When a dream comes to fruition, it is the most glorious thing of all. But, if you are crazy insane as I am, then you begin to attach fears to the dream. You being to Worry. You begin to forget the excitement and start thinking about ways you could mess up the dream.

So, tonight, if this happens again, I will think of the gratitude part. However, I’m open to suggestions – ways I can stop the thoughts tumbling around in my head like some mad crazy out of control clothes dryer- a dryer that has suddenly come alive! It’s eaten my clothes and is tumbling them into a massed mess– and the dryer has teeth! And it’s going to tear up all the clothes- and me, too – oh oh oh! The dryer is coming for me! Oh! Help!

Lawd.

Tag Cloud

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,655 other followers

%d bloggers like this: