I don’t know if the laboring started when I got trapped between a six-year-old who thought my abdomen was a pillow and a nine-year-old who had a nightmare or when I extricated myself from that, headed to the sofa, and got pinned by the fifteen going on ninety pound poodle, but I swear I worked all night… in my dreams. Man, it is tiring to be so dang productive.
Actually, that was part of the problem… I wasnt productive. Between trying to make the bus to get home from school – which made no sense since I am a 40-something who hasn’t been to that particular school since 1984 and trying to find a public bathroom in Myrtle Beach that had an enclosed stall (apparently my subconscious doesn’t think that there are enclosed stall public restrooms in Myrtle Beach) I am exhausted, but it has definitely given me fodder for blogging.
I have awakened every morning this week recreating my dreams in my head… wondering why the heck I have dreamed such things. I am sure there are some crazy Freudian reasons for my dreams that I don’t want to know, so DON’T tell me in the comments. I do find that they never typically deviate from a few mundane plots.
I am at the beach. My moms beach house and there is some kind of natural disaster. Last night, oddly enough, was a new plot. This time instead of a tidal wave there were tornadoes. Rarely do I dream of tornadoes so I am sure that is somehow related to the fact that my “Things” had been home so many days from school and it looks as though a tornado has hit my house and I feel helpless to fix things! The tornado never hit moms house, thank goodness, but they certainly came too close for comfort.
Usually there is a surge of water. If things seem particularly out of control in my life the surge is bigger. Sometimes I am in the house, sometimes I am on the porch. Sometimes it is the house of the 1980′s other times it is the present structure of the house. (It has gone through major transformations in the last 40 years.) And sometimes I am on the beach. Usually, if I am on the beach, the grade of the shore is very steep… like I might slide right down into the water. Sometimes there are things in the water… a battleship, a house…. last night I think there was a putt putt course, but that memory has faded and I am not sure anymore.
I am at the private school where I attended second through ninth grade. I am missing a math class. I know it is a math class because I know Mrs. Whitman is in there and I am disappointing her because I am not where I am supposed to be. Jan, the secretary and mainstay of the school, is always there… either in the office where she was in 1984 or her desk is in the hallway and she is keeping watch over the students. It is always the Bob Haarlow years. I am trying to find my locker in the bank of senior lockers… I think that is because I always wanted to make it to the point that I had a locker in that last set of lockers. I never did and I am not sure why it would be hard to find MY locker as there were only 19 of us and no locks on any of the lockers…. my last O’Neal locker was in the hall outside of the science lab. And finally, I am always rushing to catch the bus. I want the bus to be parked in the circle because I know I wont be left if it’s in the circle. If it is parked down by the lower school Mrs. Bass might take off with out me. I run down the hill… the damn bus is at the lower school. I never missed the bus in real life. I don’t know why that is such a fear. I guess when you live 45 minutes from where you attend school catching the bus should be a big deal… I am sure Mom didn’t want to come pick me up and lose an hour and a half of her day to driving.
Then I have another dream about this massive house. I havent had it in a while so I will have to let you know about it the next time I have it. All I know is that this house is enormous. It belongs to my mom and it is filled with stuff – furniture, knick knacks, it even has a ballroom! It also has a haunted room where if you go in you will die. I try to avoid that room when in the house but there is always some reason I need to go in it.
Ok, so those are some of the things I worked on last night. Again, I don’t wantpsychoanalysis so don’t tell me what the dreams mean. Its fun getting them out there in black and white, you know?
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