Trying to get back into the habit of this again
Thursday, 10 October 2019 11:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carose59"I've Run Out Of Things I Know."*
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I woke up this morning in a blind panic this morning, sure I had missed my alarm because I was awake and felt rested. When I checked the time, it was an hour before the alarm was supposed to go off.
I slept with the fan on last night for the first time in a few nights. It was chilly, but I felt better than when it was “comfortable,” and Meg came under the covers to cuddle. I had to pee really bad when I woke up, so I had to get up and do that, then I dithered about whether I should go back to bed for an hour or just stay up. I did get back under the covers for a little bit, to cuddle Meg, but I was up in half an hour. This extra time didn’t help me any.
Something weird happened when I got in the car. I had just closed the door when another car went down 16th Street, and the way the lights flashed across my car, it looked like a large white cat had jumped on the hood. It was very freaky, and took me a while to recover.
I’m feeling terrible lately. The panic coming in is awful, so I’ve been mostly going the old route because I’m comfortable with it.
Cried most of the morning, partly because Angela sent me a scolding email and partly because it’s what I do now. Pam and Laine and I went to lunch and had a lovely time being snarky and cynical and speculating on whether our waiter was a serial killer. (Pam said he was cute, Laine said he looked like a serial killer, and I sided with Laine because serial killers do tend to be good looking.)
Laine seemed sad, or maybe just subdued. Not at lunch, at work.
I keep having weird dreams about being trapped in big, complex buildings full of religious fundamentalists. The first dream, Pat and I had gone away for a “cult weekend.” I don’t know what kind of cult they were, but Pat and I got separated very quickly and I spent most of the weekend either looking for her, or hitchhiking back to where we were staying to look for her.
I’m trying to figure out if this particular dream is a metaphor for fan conventions, a subject I’ve expounded on before.
The next night, I dreamed the husband of a co-worker died, and all the mourners were gathered in a big old house to pray. This was where you were supposed to go and pay your respects, so I went there, only to be sent down the road to a lake where she was resting in a rowboat in the shade. We spoke briefly, then I went back to the house, but I couldn’t leave.
I have no idea what that dream means.
*Charlie Pierce
-:- -:- -:- -:-
I woke up this morning in a blind panic this morning, sure I had missed my alarm because I was awake and felt rested. When I checked the time, it was an hour before the alarm was supposed to go off.
I slept with the fan on last night for the first time in a few nights. It was chilly, but I felt better than when it was “comfortable,” and Meg came under the covers to cuddle. I had to pee really bad when I woke up, so I had to get up and do that, then I dithered about whether I should go back to bed for an hour or just stay up. I did get back under the covers for a little bit, to cuddle Meg, but I was up in half an hour. This extra time didn’t help me any.
Something weird happened when I got in the car. I had just closed the door when another car went down 16th Street, and the way the lights flashed across my car, it looked like a large white cat had jumped on the hood. It was very freaky, and took me a while to recover.
I’m feeling terrible lately. The panic coming in is awful, so I’ve been mostly going the old route because I’m comfortable with it.
Cried most of the morning, partly because Angela sent me a scolding email and partly because it’s what I do now. Pam and Laine and I went to lunch and had a lovely time being snarky and cynical and speculating on whether our waiter was a serial killer. (Pam said he was cute, Laine said he looked like a serial killer, and I sided with Laine because serial killers do tend to be good looking.)
Laine seemed sad, or maybe just subdued. Not at lunch, at work.
I keep having weird dreams about being trapped in big, complex buildings full of religious fundamentalists. The first dream, Pat and I had gone away for a “cult weekend.” I don’t know what kind of cult they were, but Pat and I got separated very quickly and I spent most of the weekend either looking for her, or hitchhiking back to where we were staying to look for her.
I’m trying to figure out if this particular dream is a metaphor for fan conventions, a subject I’ve expounded on before.
The next night, I dreamed the husband of a co-worker died, and all the mourners were gathered in a big old house to pray. This was where you were supposed to go and pay your respects, so I went there, only to be sent down the road to a lake where she was resting in a rowboat in the shade. We spoke briefly, then I went back to the house, but I couldn’t leave.
I have no idea what that dream means.
*Charlie Pierce