dream: I am standing on a hillside of mown grass. It's probably California, as there are oak trees down the hill. My father comes running up the hill in his running clothes. He stops, starts to say something to me, and falls over dead.
I know he's dead, somehow. I walk over to him and nudge him with my foot. He doesn't move.
I am impassive. The fact that my father has just died in front of me seems to be something to note, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do about it. I walk away, a little bit confused.
I spend a while dreaming that I am attempting to justify my actions to my mother. I start with, "It was a dream, mom, I couldn't do anything" and escalate to "I don't know CPR and I didn't have my cell phone" and "I knew he was dead when I touched him; there was nothing I could do. I don't know what people do with dead bodies."
I then spent a couple of dreams dreaming variants on the first dream—from dreaming that I screamed and ran for help, to performing CPR, to dragging my father to a hospital.
All the time thinking that I had to do this or my mother would kill me.
nice subtext, eh?
*** Message (#44) from Zero Card at 10:33 AM *** >Exactly... You really do tend to be a woman of mystery. You just don't try to >be though... which is the crucial difference. --- Message (#45) to Zero Card at 10:38 AM --- -which is amazing, considering the amount i write about my life. *** Message (#46) from Zero Card at 10:40 AM *** >Not really. Events don't really define you. At least not the day-to-day type >of things you write about. And while someone can make presumptions and >predictions based on what you've said before, that's not entirely accurate. --- Message (#47) to Zero Card at 10:43 AM --- -*nods* I do try to get into some of the underlying motivations and emotions -and memories. And most of the time I tend to see myself as pretty consistent. - i don't know if I succeed, though. *** Message (#48) from Zero Card at 10:44 AM *** >For the most part I'd say you do. But there's always something that can >surprise....I've been thinking about this very thing lately.
This is one of the pivot points of the year; the month surrounding the winter solstice is as bad as the month surrounding the summer solstice is good. The short days and encroaching cold really get to me; I get moody, sullen, withdrawn. Right now, I'm not the most pleasant person to be around much of the time. I try, I really do, but I'm short with people and the side of me that wants to be constantly in motion is ascendant.
These are the things that people who don't see me on a regular basis miss; Chris is experiencing the phenomenon for the first time, and it's been interesting seeing myself through his eyes as he learns just what it's like to be around me sometimes. I push, I pull, I'm hyperorganized and extremely efficient. I tire all at once. I throw myself into things wholeheartedly.
I occasionally like to think of myself as a simple person. One with recognizable motivations. That's how I seem to myself much of the time. I am motivated by my love and hunger for words, my desire for beauty and balance in all things, my fascination with living creatures, my desire for security.
Apparently, there are still moments where I come from left field, where what has gone before bears no relation on the now. I think that this is probably because I still live outside of time; I've gotten down the concept of one moment following another but I don't always feel like it applies to me. The concept of time used to scare me. The thought of it going on and on, never stopping, never ending...I didn't know how people dealt with that every moment of the day, how people could deal with everything happening in order. wouldn't you run out of space in your head for memories pretty quickly?
Now it's more like an old dog that keeps nudging at my hand, wanting something to eat. It's around. I've made my peace with it. On occasion I have to throw it a bone.
But I don't live there. I still, sometimes, slip sideways into a place without time or meaning.
how goes the war?
Putting up tents in the rain, huddling in them to keep dry.
