Of Sleeping and Waking Thoughts

I had some very strange dreams last night.  Some were interesting, some were kind of funny, and at least one was pretty scary.

Some of the highlights include:

–being in a very strange stage production, where I got to dance with Kevin Bacon…except Kevin was sort of uppity, and had strict rules about being touched.  Somehow I doubt he’s really like that.  I see him as having more of a sense of humor, as perhaps evidenced by his Footloose entrance on the Jimmy Kimmel Show or his even earlier dance-capades on Will and Grace.

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–hiding in dark and semi-underground school with other “kids,” in a video game-like battle against zombies, where found objects (even aerosol cans of air freshener) can be used as weapons.

And finally… a sort of terrifying nightmare where I was being put under (anesthesia) to undergo open heart surgery.  I could feel myself succumbing to the effects of the anesthesia, trying to talk but having a hard time being heard, and then at the last moment, panicking at the prospect of having my chest cracked open and the pain I’d experience upon waking.  Wanting to tell them to stop but feeling like it was too late.

That last one has to mean something, right?

In case you are wondering, I’ve known a couple of people who have had open heart surgery.  My mom in particular has a rough time with the pain and healing.  Oddly enough, some of the older people I knew who had the same procedure who had an easier time healing, but I can only guess how traumatic it can really be.

But, then there are cool people like Robin Williams, who can always somehow seem to make the best of just about anything.

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I’m sure at least some of the dreams are stress related (the place that has had my wedding ring for repair for almost a month still hasn’t done anything with it, and my old bank is trying to screw me with undeserved overdraft fees–they tack on an additional $12 every three days I refuse to bring the account up to a zero balance by paying the fees they keep adding.) Maybe I need to try to be more like Robin Williams.  Nothing gets that guy down!

 

 

 

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Of Dreams and Nightmares and Waking Life

It’s supposed to be a pretty day today (59 and partially cloudy beats all the snow and rain and cold any day.)  I have stuff to do today, which includes shelter work and (hopefully) finally taking that injured stray with me that’s been wandering around the apartment complex.

But I have a pretty good headache, which started yesterday around noon and was nicely exacerbated by laying practically upside down, mouth open for an hour, having a cavity filled.  When the Novocaine wore off, I was in less than optimal shape.  I went to bed at 8 last night, hoping to ward off the impending migraine.

But then I had nightmares most of the night.   Dreams fraught with tension, but some sort of epic adventure… * Dreams of wanting but never quite being able to reach…  Dreams of confused desire… Dreams of frustration, where my every attempt to affect some sort of change is thwarted or ignored.

Dreams of needing to be onstage but forgetting my lines.  David Lynch-esque dreams where the events and the characters change but are the same.

And dreams of yearning sadness.  I had a dream last night about a friend of mine who OD’d a few months ago. He was alive and I kept trying to tell him I loved him and he could smoke all the weed he wanted, but for God’s sake, stay away from the heroin!  When I awoke and remembered he was already gone, I was struck by the usual feeling of quiet despair at not being able to change things.

Once, I woke up screaming.  I woke my kid too.  My husband slept on peacefully, so I guess it’s a good thing it was a nightmare and not a masked murderer in my bedroom.  I know myself enough by now to know that when I awaken screaming from nightmares, it’s often because I am so stressed out in my waking life that it spills over into my sleep.  Once, when I was still with a particularly troublesome ex, I awoke screaming every night for about a week.  I still lived with my parents at the time, and by the third night or so, my mom and stopped coming in to check on me when it happened. (Ironically, for the short but extremely stressful four months my husband and I had to live with my mother and step-father while I was pregnant, it was my husband who had the night terrors almost every night, often kicking out– and kicking me– in the middle of the night.)

And then this morning I get on Facebook and am greeted immediately with the sad but not unexpected news that my friend’s cat has passed away.  I kind of got attached to this cat because for some reason, even though they did not really look alike at all, she reminded me of my own girl who passed away 2 years ago.

Anyway, I’m not writing all this looking for sympathy or anything.  It’s just life…how things are.  But, since this is my blog, every once in a while I indulge in a post that has no real point except catharsis for me.  Thanks for coming along with me, readers.

Peace.

 

 

Midwinter Night’s Dream & My Other Husband

I had an absolutely mind-boggling dream last night.  There was music, crowd-surfing, werewolves/vampires, tattoos, horses, diamonds, sex, and…Maynard.

I’m going to try to relay the highlights, but now it has that loose narrative and hazy chronological sequence that defies any attempts to make sense once you’re awake.

I’m at this concert in this big dark space.  I’m sitting against a corner wall near the middle of the room.  Check out my bad-ass Paint diagram.

"X" marks the spot

“X” marks the spot…

And who should be sitting next to me but Marilyn Manson… only he’s yelling stupid things at the stage where Maynard is singing, trying to be cool or something.  And I tell him to shut up.  And he kisses me and tries to stick his hand in my pants.   And I’m like, no way, dude.  What kind of woman do you think I am?   I also seem to remember telling him my age, but lying and saying I was 29 instead of 31.  At some point, he (I think it’s him) picks me up and throws me in the air, and I am crowd surfing all over the room.  Eventually, I end up somewhere across the room, and the person holding me up is Trainer Bob, and he asks me for something (I can’t remember what,) but in return, I ask him for a favor– get me closer to Maynard.

"Whaaat?"

“Whaaat?”

At this point, as I pass near the stage, it looks more like a backstage tête-à-tête than a concert.  Maynard is sitting in a chair and his entourage is busy around him.  He’s not looking his usual put together self.  His face looks haggard and broken out…but I still love him anyway.

At some point I have circled the room and am dropped off near MM again.  He is also not looking his best… turns out he’s balding on top and wearing a black hairpiece to cover it up.  He flops the piece back on his head, and– voila!– instant sleek!  There are a lot of faces I recognize, mostly from high school, in the crowd.  At one point I am in a line near a side exit and a guy behind me (who I think I was supposed to know) was staring at me lasciviously and making menacing remarks.

At some other point, I found myself near the stage again.  This is about the point where I felt some sort of threat, as if I was being chased or hunted, by a werewolf, perhaps.  Maynard and his crew finally acknowledge me and hand me a small tray to which is affixed a variety of silver pieces (barettes? small styluses? I don’t know), but in the dream I knew what they were for– protection against my pursuers.

And now Maynard is close to me …

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…and we’re talking about our tattoos and he’s helping me fit these gi-normous fake fangs onto my teeth (more protection, I think?)

…and then there was this pretty horse, with kind of a pale palomino beige color in the head area and a dainty, thin nose.  I was told to let it eat, so I walked it to the area near the back wall of the main room, where there was a little inlet with a mound of hay.

A stall in the middle of a concert venue...weird, I know...

A stall in the middle of a concert venue…weird, I know…

And then I was riding the horse around a trail (still in the concert venue) and it was like I was on a parade circuit or something.  One of Maynard’s lackeys was giving me all this fancy jewelry.  It was for, like, some mock video where we were getting married or something.  They took my wedding ring off and threw it on the ground, and I asked one of the girls to retrieve it and put it somewhere safe.  She didn’t so I went back to get it and put it on another finger.  The ring that the girl had given me as a wedding ring was big but all the diamonds were like little marcasite-looking stones… you know, all pomp but no real value… and I was like, Well, this ring is unacceptable… 

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Marcasite ring (photo: polyvore.com)

Soooo…

You’re leaving something out, you say.

Oh, you mean the sexy part?

Yeah, of course we mean the sexy part.

What I do on my fake wedding night with my fake husband (who also happens to be a talented and hot musician) is my business, you pervs!

I don't know who took this picture, but it wasn't me.

I don’t know who took this picture, but it wasn’t me.

Haunted (poem)

Haunted

Beyond the veil of sleep

Where my control wanes

Voices that I’ve never really heard

Echo down to me.

There are spectres in my house

Haunting the halls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Phantoms in the mirror

But they’re just reflecting me.

From dreams they follow me

In the daylight, I’m the ghost.

Silence screams.

I don’t exist.

 

The Sleeping Flame (verse)

felt pen stippling © alienredqueen

The Sleeping Flame      5/28/12

You came to me in my dreams last night.

You were just as beautiful as I remember.

I went to your arms with desire in my heart

and doubt in my mind.

But you were diminished somehow,

and your words held no sway.

I was bound by promise to another.

You all come to me in my dreams

To waken dormant parts of me,

sleeping memories,

To tease me with false currents of flame,

and muddy the waters of my heart.