Sunday again: ramblings and updates

Early Saturday morning I woke from a dream in which it was late Sunday. You know how reality is ephemeral when you begin to wake up? I didn't know what day it was.


I saw the doctor about my floater. It's nothing to worry about (probably) but he wants to see me in three months to check on it. He had his bright shine-in-my-eye light and what looked a bit like a jeweler's loupe that he used to see inside my eyeball. He saw the cat hair/spider in there and exclaimed "That's a big one!" (pause for snickering) He said it'll probably become less noticeable as time goes by. I'm glad I had it checked out. Also, he dilated my eyes. I have specifically put in a standing order for cloudy days when I must have my eyes dilated, but alas, that day was bright and sunny. I survived. The vision in my right eye (not the one with the big floater) has deteriorated again. Seems it's about as bad as the left eye now. Meh. I need new glasses.

Since Twitch moved out (to Charleston, where he now has a job!) my old office which was his bedroom is once again vacant. Light had that room before she left for college all those years ago. Six years it's been now! She painted half the room a dark and stormy blue, and it's been bothering me since I started using the room. So yesterday Superman and I painted over the dark with Kilz 2 primer.  Man that lightens up the space! Makes it seem bigger, more open. I haven't decided what color to use on that wall, but I'm looking into something very light. I want to use the room for sewing and crafts also, and the walls need to be light and close to neutral to prevent the wall color from influencing how I perceive the fabric colors. Gray, white, or beige don't do it for me, you know? So I think perhaps a pretty cream or maybe a very light blue. We'll see.

Interesting quotes seen on my Kindle:
"The unanswered in science is solution-ized with research." - from a book description. I didn't buy that book.
"If wishes were horses, that accounts for all this horse manure." - Barbara Morganroth, If Wishes Were Horses
"When whiskey talks it rarely counsels prudence." - Anthony McDonald, Matches in the Dark: 13 Tales of Gay Men

I woke up very early this morning, before 5 I think. Couldn't get back to sleep. Poor Superman had trouble getting to sleep in the first place, so he got up and read something boring to put him to sleep. Didn't work. When he came back to bed I sort of woke up. I don't know if got back to sleep then, or if I've been awake since then. Anyway, I'm very sleepy now. Think i'll take a morning nap.

I'm surviving

OK, so I had a bad weekend. I don't know that things have gotten better, necessarily, but I'm handling it better. One of the problems I had last week was a severe lack of sleep. Have I slept better this week? Well, not necessarily, but when the shit has hit the fan, it's been a relatively small amount of shit and I've had sufficient sleep at that time.

Last night Sproing was being a little shit. He argues about everything. We cannot have a simple discussion without him turning it into an argument. I was in the kitchen cooking dinner, Superman was also there helping me and just being close (he's such a sweetheart!) and Sproing was arguing like a madman. It would have been funny if I hadn't been the target of his anger. I stuck it out, got a few hugs from Superman, and carried on. Maybe I'm partially detached from the whole shebang. That's how I survive. Some days it works, some days not so much. I got through it without any pharmaceutical or alcoholic assistance.

So I downloaded an interesting little book for my Kindle yesterday entitled How to Drive Your Family Crazy for Fun and Profit. It was one of the free books offered yesterday. I read it in half an hour or so. The author has some good things to say, much of it she learned from Al-Anon. She applies most of this to her siblings. I of course considered how I could apply the concepts to these teenage hangers-on, and the applications, though limited, are available. When I was reading the book I thought of you, Rox. I recommend it specifically for you. Her family reminded me of your descriptions of your extended family.

Returning to the subject of sleep: my sleep patterns are acting kinda menopausal. Most of this week I wake up around 3:30, give or take half an hour, and I'm HOT. Especially my feet. The soles of my feet get really hot sometimes. I can't get back to sleep while it's still dark, but get irresistibly sleepy around 8 or 9. Had some caffeine this morning (a little bit) so managed to avoid the morning nap, but got the runs instead. That'll keep me awake!

I also seem to be making my monthly quota of Facebork postings today. Usually I scan, "like" a status update, maybe make a comment or two, but don't post much. Sometimes I'll read an especially interesting (to me) article and post a link. Occasionally I'll share something really good. I rarely actually make status updates as such, but have today. As I write this paragraph I'm getting more and more bored. How can you read this boring crap? I obviously have nothing worth saying. At least in this paragraph.

One of the things I like about Facebook is that the first half of the word I type with my left hand, the second half with my right hand. That's what I like about the word "facebook." Really? Is this all I can find to talk about?

I had a dream yesterday during my morning nap. (Damn, that's pathetic.) Tom Hanks lived in my neighborhood, drove a red pickup truck, and dropped by my house to hang out. The neighborhood and house in the dream were nothing like where I actually live, save the brick on all the houses. My house was a two storey affair, but the stairs between the floors were somehow unavailable so I couldn't get from one floor to the other. A bunch of people came by for a party (so unlike me!) which we held in the basement rumpus room. We played bingo? Or something like that. There was a young man who was trying to act like Tom Hanks, but was only successful at being annoying. He was trying to charm me, make me fall in love with him. He thought he was second in line for my affections when Superman abdicated his role as my husband. Superman got angry at him, but don't remember if he decked the guy. The Tom Hanks/husband pretender was at the party and everyone else found him annoying. Also, all the other party guests were old folks in dowdy clothing. Damned dream has been invading my awake life for two days now. I'm ready to forget the thing.

That seems to be all I have to say today. I know I'm smarter and more interesting than this, but damned if I know how to access it today. Perhaps I'm rotting away, bit by bit.

Homophobic nightmare

I had a nightmare of homophobic spiritual abuse. I woke up tense, gasping, like I had been running.

It involved the step-brother I grew up with. I say it this way because our parents are no longer married. He now lives in Vancouver. He came out about a dozen years ago, and is married to his partner (husband, duh) there in Canada. They've been married for a while now. I can't remember exactly when the wedding was. It was not too long after he came out to the family, but they had been together for a while by then, I think. No matter…

The dream setting was a large old church building, specifically the classroom areas. It was a weekday, but there was a lot of activity in the building. People of all ages were very busy doing stuff. I was there with some friends (I have no idea who these people were) and I was waiting for my step-mother to show up. She and her girlfriend were driving in from Vancouver. To the southeast US. Non-stop. My (former) step-mother is not a lesbian, and is in her early 70s now. But in my dream she was in her mid 50s and had a lesbian partner who was 30 something.

It was a surprise to me that her son Charlie (that's her gay son's name) was coming with her. The three of them finally arrived in town in two separate cars. I was with Superman and we were all busy with something, a project that was going on. Vague. So the gays show up at the church looking for me. I wanted to drive back to Vancouver with them, and was trying to figure out how to convince Superman that this was a good idea. There was some sewing involved, too. Like I needed to go with them so I could help sew something in Vancouver. They don't have any seamstresses in Vancouver? Dreams are strange.

Well, surprisingly Superman thought it was a good idea for me to help them drive back to Canada. In either a huge camper-van or a tiny boxy yellow car. Both were available. Very strange. No matter. I was trying to find everything I needed to pack for the trip. It was all stored in various classrooms in the church building. Very disorganized, very cluttered. A lot like my life. And the lesbians got into a nasty catfight.

This being a church, there were some preachers there. One was the minister of the congregation, and one was another preacher who was working to build another church. The other guy had a lot of church stuff stored in the building, and we kept coming across all their stuff while looking for mine. A lot of it was children's craft and art projects. Cute, sentimental, but basically trash. Charlie wanted to throw it all away and I was trying to get him to leave it alone and help me look for my stuff. The lesbians were no help at all. (Sorry ladies. This is a dream, remember, and no reflection on you personally. Trust me!)

My step-mother and her girlfriend finally took off toward home in the big van. That left me and Charlie in the small yellow car. We were about to get in the car when the preachers called Charlie over. Not wanting to be rude or make waves, he went to see what they wanted. Well, they "captured" him and took him into the worship area. They made him kneel down and began to pray loudly over him and preach fire and brimstone at him. There were the two preachers and at least two other men, maybe three, who were prominent members of the church. They surrounded Charlie and were all breathing "holy" fire down on him. I could see them. I was sitting in the little yellow car (don't know what the significance of the color is, but it seemed important at the time) wondering what I could do. These guys were whipped up into a religious fervor and I was afraid to get close to them. I felt horrible for Charlie! One of the reasons he had come with his mother was to get away from home for a while because he had some emotional crap he was trying to deal with. So the poor guy was already emotionally fragile.

I was afraid if I tried to physically intervene I would be restrained and make matters worse. I was also afraid of getting the same treatment. These men knew me as a solid Christian, meaning of course that I believed as they do. Under that guise I had some "stealth" advantages. I could have possibly gone into the group, pretended to join them, and take Charlie away. But that would be rough, because they knew I was Charlie's friend. I began to try to move out of the car, and all of a sudden another one of the men of the church was right there with me, to prevent me from intervening. He started talking to me as if I were "in sin" because of my association with Charlie. He'd been put there to watch me, make sure I didn't try to interrupt. Just that part pissed me off, but then he started to molest me! He was running his hands over my arms, then my sides and hips, then trying to rub my breasts. The hypocritical asshole!!! I was livid, but too weak to make any physical attempt to escape.

At some point I made it into the room where they had Charlie. The poor guy was an emotional basket case! I felt so helpless, and guilty that I hadn't done more to protect him.

This room was not the worship sanctuary, but very large and empty of furnishings. Maybe a social hall? Whatever. I got to Charlie, took his hand, and we began to run away. There were a lot of people in the room, milling around, many with no sense of purpose. Some were for us, some were ag'in' us. Some tried to block our progress and some were chasing after us. And we were moving v-e-r-y—s-l-o-w-l-y, the way dreams are sometimes. I could see the exit but couldn't run fast enough. Charlie was right with me, also not running fast enough. Except his tears. They were running down his cheeks just fine.

Do dreams ever do this to you? You get to this point in the dream and never progress until finally you just wake up? It seemed like this attempted escape took as long as the entire rest of the dream. When I woke up I still had that negative emotional energy in my head. It felt very wrong. I felt such guilt, such remorse for not intervening to protect him.

Non-brainy

My brain is sick. No, not like THAT! I have a cold or whatever it is, I'm sick, and consequently my brain is sick too. When in this condition, strange things can happen.

I had a strange dream this morning. I dreamt it after I woke up, sort of. Superman tried to wake me up this morning so I could eat breakfast and get to the doctor's office for my 8:15 appointment. He was rubbing my arm and softly saying my name. I tried to sit up and to figure out where I was. I couldn't remember what port I was in today. You know, the whole bedroom moves overnight to a different undisclosed location. I knew for certain that I had an 8:15 appt. at the doc's office, and I knew where the doc's office is, but I wasn't sure where I was and how to get there from here. Or there.

It has been that kind of day.

I did get to the doctor's office on time this morning. As Superman said, the office doesn't open until 8:30. I know. I'm a work-in. That was one of the quickest doctor visits I've ever experienced. The nurse who unlocked the front door to let me in was holding my chart. So I walked through the waiting room right to the exam room. She (the nurse) took my temp and bp and asked about my symptoms. La te da and the same old song. She left the room, saying the doctor would be in shortly. Within about 30 seconds the doctor came in, though not shortly. He's very tall, actually. He asked, I answered; the litany of aches resounded. I told him that my sinuses hurt. He should believe me by now. Or maybe he has a Machiavellian streak. He did the #thump-thump# thing on my right cheek. "Ouch! I told you it hurt!" He didn't thump the other one. He told me I have sinusitis (duh) and wrote a perscription for Augmentin. Then I went to the check-out desk, wrote the nice lady a check while the nice lady wrote me an excuse to stay out of work until Monday. I walked out the door and was in my truck before 8:30. It has taken me longer to write this account than it did to live it. I love that kind of efficiency.

On a related note, though totally unconnected; the doctors' office has recently been expanded and renovated. It looks very nice indeed. There are at least half a dozen new exam rooms and a beautifully big new lab (the old one is now a closet, as it is about that big). The office manager and insurance gladiator each have a new office- with DOORS! I've been to see the doc numerous times over the last 6 months since they moved into the new digs. But I always get the same exam room. Is it possible all the other doors are facades, that there is nothing behind those doors but the empty overgrown field beyond the parking lot? The brain reels with the implications of this trickery. This brain does, anyway. And I've already told you this brain is just not herself tonight.

I have no real idea whether or not I feel better now. I feel icky still, but my head is in such a fog that I can’t qualify my ick. Nor do I wish to, necessarily.

What dreams may come

I've been having the strangest dreams recently. They've been taking me places I haven't thought about it years and years! I've seen people I thought I'd forgotten. Most of it makes no sense, but when I wake I have a feeling of being slightly off-kilter, out of balance somehow.
Last night I dreamed about taking a walking trip all around the continental US. I started in the north east and walked through mountains and forests along the border all the way to Washington. The next leg of the trip was to walk down to Southern California, but the dream didn't progress that far. Eventually I'd walk across the south from west to east, then up the east coast back to Maine or somethin'. Really ironic, I guess, because as ... um, "out of shape" (FAT!) as I am it's a struggle to walk a mile.
But in my dream my traveling companions were two guys. One was a man, sort of an amalgam of my son Twitch and my oldest (younger) brother. The other was a child, a boy somewhere between 7 and 9 years old, who had been physically and emotionally abused. The boy was mentally unstable, and in order to communicate with him I had to be crazy, too. The older man in the group sort of kept us on track and together, though I set the emotional pace, as it were. And I was bat-shit crazy. We were traveling through relatively unpopulated forest areas, so we didn't come in contact with "polite society" very much. And when we did happen through a small town, try to buy something from a convenience store or something, we all had a very difficult time interacting with sane people. I remember doing a lot of screaming. Not screaming and yelling at people, but just noise. A scream. And I looked like I hadn't bathed in months nor had my hair brushed for a long time. I definitely looked the part of a mad woman.
When I woke up I was confused, but that feeling of bordering on insanity has stayed with me. Sometimes when I feel like this, I like it. I like being able to commune with the intangibles in a semi-spiritual way. But other times it really bothers me because no one in the sane universe understands the importance of the messages I'm trying to convey. When I'm crazy and communing with the insane things/people, I am trying to interpret these things to the sane people. But they don't pay any mind to me because I am insane. It is monumentally frustrating.