So I woke up from the strangest dream this morning. Okay, maybe not the strangest, but one of the strange one's at the very least.
My sister needed some sort of operation, which involved me needing to be available in case she needed something... like a blood donor or something I guess, except that I had to do some preparatory stuff to be ready at the point she might need whatever it was. Apparently Brian was a possible candidate too, as he was doing the prep stuff with me. We had to drink this really icky stuff - kind of like a combination of the pink stuff you have to drink before one of those scans and the jug of nasty clear stuff you have to drink before a colonoscopy. We sat in a hospital exam room and drank up all the nastyness (which my sister had to drink too for some reason). Then they hauled my sister away and told me that Brian and I could go home for a couple of hours before we'd need to be back in the hospital. They also told me I wasn't allowed to pee until I came back into the hospital.
They forgot to tell that to Brian, however, so I found out he peed before we'd even made it out of the hospital. I guess I was getting my coat or something and missed it until he told me when we got home. By the end of the two hours I was in tears and had my legs all crossed and was desperate to use a toilet. But there was some delay when we called the hospital to make sure we needed to come in, and they kept saying that I needed to wait and keep holding it. I guess it was imperative that I not use the toilet since I was now the only donor available for whatever it was they were doing to my sister...
Yeah.
Needless to say, when I woke up at about that point, guess what I needed to do?
It really makes me wonder what it is that is happening to me in reality when I dream that I'm walking along and trip on the sidewalk for no reason. Although I've heard that sometimes that means your feet are caught up in the covers.
On that note...
G'night!
Okay, so I dropped another post to follow the Prologue from earlier over on DragonBytes. Since I'm not posting the other story idea I'm working on, I might as well post this one. I'll see how far it gets. I've no idea how it's going to end yet, see, only some vague ideas. But stuff keeps wanting me to drop it down in writing for the moment, so I am.
No, I'm not doing this because it's "National Novel Writing Month" either. It just happens to be a point when story ideas are flowing inside my head and I want to get them down. I'm not so sure I could finish an entire novel in one month. They suggest that it doesn't matter how good it is, but I really don't want to just write for the sake of writing when it comes to fiction. After all, isn't that what this blog is here for?
*wicked grin*
I think I'm just running off excess energy from how much I'm enjoying the current Quick Shtick Writing story. We're equating it to a "disaster flick", and keep letting everything get calm so we can "drop the next anvil on them". It's actually more fun than violent computer games to get some of the tension out.
Pity my characters... oh yes. Pity them greatly, for they will suffer.
Mwahahaha!
Oooh... two posts here in less than 12 hours! What will people think!
*gasp*
Oh yeah... that I ought to get my ass to bed probably. Oooh-kay.
G'night!
It was hard to drag myself away this morning, from the vividly colorful dreams that floated in and out of my consciousness as I attempted to ignore the incessent beeping of the alarm clock. Eventually I rose from the bed long enough to turn the accursed thing off and crawl back beneath the warm, soft, sanctuary within my covers. Hugged by my pillows, I slipped back into the dreamworld to see how it ended. Such is the trouble I have on many mornings. Today's trouble was so much so, that morning itself slid by me, leaving me to wake in the afternoon and immediately drop a load of fresh guilt onto my shoulders for the day. It didn't help when I found my husband had inadvertantly forgotten the diaper doubler in my son's bedtime diaper, and one cloth diaper could only hold so much pee. Fortunately, the leakage was limited to being wicked up by the edge his shirt, merely requiring a change of clothes along with the diaper.
The dream, itself, had been filled with dragons and danger, evil men with viruses they tested on the innocent "volunteers", and an odd segregation of climate and terrain that needed to be resolved so that the world was livable again. The dragons, it seemed, held the only cure for the virus. One man, it seemed, held the ability to call the dragons. And that man was going to show me the way, so that I might save the others, as the man was dying (but not of the virus). I made fast friends with one of the "head" dragons, who could change his form into that of a man (who looked much like an old wizard, down to the pointy white hat with blue stars all over it), or several beasts upon his whim. He took a liking to me, and decided to help me, not only in saving people from the virus and the men doing the testing, but also in changing the climate to one more suitable for us to start fresh in afterwards. He and the other dragons (who were very "Whelan" by the way) soared the skies, melting the frozen wastelands with breathed fire, and somehow calling the rain to fall and extinguish the burning plains in the other half of the world. Suddenly we could move out from the lines where the zones had crossed and the climate had been barely livable. And we gave the virus to the bad men - with no hope for them of getting a cure through the dragons. All was well again in my imaginary dreamworld...
In some of the recent conversations on loneliness, there's been mention of losing oneself in one's imagination for a while, often facilitated by the magical stories held within the covers of a book, which seem to come alive in your mind as the words leap off the page and spark the flames of imagination into action. After last night's dream and the recent conversations, I find myself recalling the first time I truly fell in love with dragon stories, thanks to an image by Michael Whelan of a young girl and her tiny dragon friends, that led me into the covers of Dragonsong, by Anne McCaffrey. I devoured each story with a desperate hunger that no book could truly fill, but each offered a moment's reprieve from the realities of life.
I think that this is why I want to write. I think it's also why I want to paint. Maybe one day I'll be able to give back what I stole from those books and painting that inspired my imagination. Maybe, in turn, I'll one day inspire someone else.
More later maybe...
First off, I'd like to drop a link to Blindfold Blog before I forget. It's an interesting read. The blog is complete, as in finished a couple of days ago, and follows a woman training to become a guide dog trainer. Part of her learning experience is to spend a week blindfolded to better understand what it's like to be blind and reliant upon the dogs she is to train. It's very insightful, and no - that word is not used as a pun.
Second, I had a dream last night. It wasn't the kind of dream that I seem to be uploading onto DragonBytes lately, but it was still very colorful and vivid. I was in this dream - I'm not always in my own dreams as me - and my husband and I were following this school bus, which careened off the road and rolled onto it's side. I got out of the car and ran forward, yelling for someone in one of the other cars that stopped to call 911. I don't carry cell phones in my dreams either.
I ran to check the front of the bus first, for some reason, and the two drivers (two drivers???) were both dead, blood streaking down the big flat windshield of the bus. I was suddenly afraid the bus would explode, so I ran in back and hurried helping my husband who was getting all the kids off the bus. They were all about 6 to 8 years old I think. Some of the kids were a little banged up, and one girl had a gash along her forearm, but none of the kids had died.
That's the point when I realized my son was on the bus. He was unharmed, but not wearing his shoes. I found myself very irritated that the shoes had been left on the bus, when the police started to arrive and move everyone away. The kids were being taken care of and we were told to go home with our son. So we did.
We had a much nicer house in my dream. Then again, we usually do. LOL. Some parts of dreams are wish fullfillment. The next day came along and a police officer came to our house with my son's shoes. My husband wasn't home, and I realized that this police officer was someone I'd gone to high school with, so I invited him in for a coffee. He revealed during the coffee that he'd had a huge crush on me all through high school. (and no, this part isn't wish fullfillment, as he had a name that I can't remember anymore but wasn't anyone I'd gone to high school with. I don't think he looked like anyone I specifically know either.
I was surprised by his admission and quickly found an excuse to send him away, as he was giving me this look like he wanted to fullfill some high school desire. He made a point of mentioning he was a police officer now, as I escorted him out the door. That, made me nervous. I called my husband (and yes, Brian was still my husband in the dream) and told him about it, and he came home to reassure me.
Then this police officer started stalking me and trying to give me some strange story that was supposed to make me feel sorry for him and leave me husband or something... very strange.
And then I woke up before I could find out what happens. That's often the case with my dreams - I never get to the end. The only psychobabble I can really apply to the dream would be my fears of anything happening to my son, my need to get things organized and accounted for (the shoes), and my own poor self image and desire to be... well, desired. On an intellectual and social level though, I've got the other one covered. *grin*
Not that I'd expect some guy from high school to be harboring any feelings for me other than "that girl with the long scarf? The one who talked to her locker? Yeah, she was weird."
Thank goodness for my cat and my son. Now I have animate objects, so to speak, to babble my list of things to get done to during the day, instead of cold, unfeeling metal lockers that liked to try to snag at my long scarf. And now... now there's blogging too!
Well, so that's my dream. I'm now going to read some blogs and maybe figure out why nobody can see my categories yet, before I head off for more dreaming... And one of these days, I'll have to explain my spiritual understanding of what dreams really are... but that belongs in another category.
G'night!
Words roll out of my mind
They tumble down onto the paper before me
Where they mock me
Their laughter echoing in my consciousness
They know they are only there
For posterity
And no matter how I arrange them
They refuse to speak as I thought them
They remain
Inefficiently silent
Of the truths I have seen
Of the moments I have felt
Of the dreams I still dream
They know me better than most
Yet they keep my secrets
Whether I want them to
Or not
Yet sometimes
Their silence
Can say so much