Thursday, January 05, 2006

Untitled Due to Lack of Creativity

Earlier today, I sat at my keyboard with vivid awareness of my cold head. This morning, I didn't have enough time to thoroughly dry my mop of hair and why not? you ask. Because I woke up at 5:15 a.m. when my husband's alarm went off. Because I woke up at 6:07 a.m. when the unplugged, yet still functioning, extra alarm clock went off. Because I woke up at 7:18 a.m. from a terrible dream when my daughter woke up. Because my daughter insisted on having a bath first thing this morning. And so, I ran the bath-water and reclined on my bed and watched morning television while she frolicked.

And I contemplated my bad dream. First, in my dream, a good friend gave me the silent treatment because I got rid of an item she loaned me. Of course, that didn't really happen, but still. Then, in my dream, I went to a wedding where I had to sit with the other guests on risers in a classroom and when I went to the bathroom, all sixteen of the toilets were overflowing and THEN and ONLY then, I noticed I had a giant purple towel on my head and no make-up on and hey, where are my clothes? When I opened a closet, I found a comforter I used to own and then I woke up.

That was the first time I've had an anxiety dream about being a wedding guest. Usually my anxiety dreams are all about wandering a campus, looking for a classroom, knowing full well that I have played hooky all year and that I am ill-prepared for the final exam.

So, my wet hair. I didn't have time to dry it because I had to get downstairs--quick!--to clean up choking hazards (aka Playmobil people) and vacuum thoroughly because the toddler would be here today for the first time in a couple of weeks. And he eats leaves and marbles and unpopped popcorn kernels. Don't ask me how I know.

At one point this afternoon, I had to count on my fingers to figure out how many kids were here. I used all my fingers, but thankfully, none of my toes.

As for my mood-swing yesterday . . . nothing cures a funk like perspective. Today, I received a letter from an incarcerated woman I know. She has five more years to serve. Yesterday, my husband told me about a high-school classmate of his who has a fourteen year old daughter battling cancer. Her prognosis is grim. And what about those miners? This world is so sad sometimes.

Oh. And wasn't that a cheerful wrap-up to a Thursday night? You're welcome.

9 Comments:

Blogger Lisa said...

I have a very similar dream about college, only I haven't really been playing hooky. I'm on my way to a gigantic test when I suddenly remember that oh.my.God I've forgotten to go to school ALL year.

5:48 AM  
Blogger Eyes said...

There is a gloominess to things lately. Here too. My posts haven't been happy either. We are on day 17 or 18 now without sun. It does a number on the psychie, I tell'ya!

Hugs Melodee! Hugs :)

7:35 AM  
Blogger Mrs. Darling said...

I wanted to center my name on my blog and now I see that the center tags are showing when you put me on your side bar. I must remedy that. And girl you need to quit eating pickles or whatever it is you eat to cause those dreams! LOl

7:43 AM  
Blogger Jack-on-the-Lake said...

I also have had more than one dream about public bathrooms and overflowing toilets - what on earth could it mean??? I'm sure some dream interpretation book would have to know.

8:14 AM  
Blogger Vashti said...

Thanks for the cheery blog. I know what you mean though. The mining tragedy was especially awful this week. Keep perspective. Keep faith.

8:39 AM  
Blogger JEB said...

What is it with those college dreams? I've been out of college for years, but I still have dreams that I miss finals!!
So strange.

10:44 AM  
Blogger Judy said...

Hmmm. My dream is always that either I cannot find a bathroom, or I do, and it is a men's room.

7:43 PM  
Blogger Gina said...

The purple towel is disturbing.

At least, disturbing to me.

Do you own purple towels?

If you do, you may want to consider this dream a warning that nothing good can ever come of owning purple towels.

10:11 PM  
Blogger Julana said...

Yes, it is hard to feel sorry for one's self this week, after reading and watching the mining tragedy. It's only several hours, by car, from here. I cried when I saw the scribbled last words, enlarged on the front page of the paper.
Not hopeless, accepting, loving. Courageous.

10:43 AM  

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