Well, the dreams aren't getting any less intense. Last night I dreamed that the dike broke for a whole huge city that I lived in and on the highest tide everyone was scrambling frantic for high ground, or even the tops of roofs... and there were four of us that survived the initial scramble and we had to figure out how to survive the next high tide.
It was a color dream, like normal, full sight, sound, scent and taste... black current jam with plenty of peanut butter on what was suspiciously like Great Harvest's honey whole grain bread was something that John managed to scrounge from a household that wasn't that far underwater, and I remember the taste of it and that of the saltwater as we were swimming for a very nasty half hour while the tide peaked.
I remember the woman with us panicing badly, and my going into my usual rant/rage 'dealing with the fucker' kind of mood and telling her in no uncertain terms that the high tide we'd survived was the highest for the month and that we weren't going to have to deal with one that was going to be just as high or higher. I am reminded that when I think of slick rock, even when southwesterners talk about it, I think of rocks by the ocean slick with slimy mosses and the constant wash of water. Which is very different than actual slick rock... but... it's what I think of.
And that first high tide was on slick rock like that, we'd climbed as high as we could but were stuck on rocks like that when the water level went over our heads... and the rage and fear and simple determination that I *was* going to survive, period, was right there for me.
I will survive. Which reminds me of a survival special on some PBS channel, that spoke of disasters and how people survive them and why so many people don't... and it spoke of how some people just can't think outside the usual lines, especially under pressure, or just give up. If dreams are some kind of practice for this, then I guess I'll be well practiced for a while. One lady who survived an airplane crash noticed that all the people had lined up for the aisle eventhough they had *no* time to get out, the smoke was so thick in the interior of the cabin that staying meant death. So she just climbed over the seats to get to the exit... and survived because she did, most of the ones that were waiting to get out aphixiated, eventhough the exits could handle, easily, more people than could get through the aisles.
Kinda goes with the dream I had last Friday morning, which had to do with my sister Kathy and I being part of an odd game of paintball/hide and seek. The rich and famous players had lots of long-distance weapons, whereas folks like me, which were poor and relatively unknown, made do with counting coup. And the poorer players were restricted from various areas, including the better bathrooms, various buildings, and other things. So we were hunted and barely hunting as well.
Kathy had a cheap paintball gun that could be used, and we'd been running a while, and had gotten a few good kills, and counted a few coup with my knife. I had blue hair in that dream and it was, in that reality, still a very odd thing that people would react to. But at one point, after we were denied entrance, again, to a safe spot, Kathy got really frustrated and angry and she rushed into a crowd of the richer players and she forced the issue.
I was just around the corner and I heard the screams, and oddly enough, I just sat down and *did* magic in my dream. Willed and pushed hard at the reality with my desire and did my best to make the hunters into what they should have been to begin with, and the screams and sudden sounds of animals in a panic just got hugely louder. That's when I woke up. Sometimes I think it's just a type of lucid dreaming, or something... but it's nice to be powerful in my dreams.
Anyway. I woke up, told John about the tidal dream and he laughed and said that it was just like work. The tension and anxiety levels have gone up since they announced exactly which day is The Day. And the tension's been building and ebbing in waves, tides of time and hope.
Doom. The thing is that the nature of this doom is such that I'll likely survive it and go on and do something else, likely. I am not going to say a thing about what's actually going down until The Day, so I don't get whacked.
Well, I'm glad that I'm a little paranoid. The girl that was supposed to have done all the copies for me last night, actually only did the first part of a five parter and said she was done. I turned everything in three days early so that I'd have time to re-check what was done and now I'm glad I did. Or at least everything for the first day of classes. I have two more days to do, and another day already finished that I should probably send down for copies, soon.
Made really thick coffee this morning, and it's actually doing a good job of keeping me awake. I'm so tired, and this stretch is likely going to last another two weeks. Or I'll know I don't have a job after that, and I'll probably sleep for a week before even *looking* at another job. Then again, I have training that I'm already committed to for the beginning of December, so I'll likely have a job until January. Then I'll take a month off, or something.
Heh. Spend it in the Bay Area with the Horde, is part of my thoughts. But that might be an addiction better kept at a lower level, don't want to wear out my welcome. Though it would be fairly easy to set up a temporary household at a Resident's Inn with full hookup for my 'puter and then write all day, visit with folks in the evenings, and game on the weekends. Wouldn't *that* be heaven? I guess I could do that at home, too, with much less cost, and less distraction, visits or gaming.
It would be perfect timing, if it were in January, for the February deadline to apply to Clarion West. Though, from Ceej's journals, I don't know how much writing she's gotten done since the experience. I have a feeling that if I'd had something like Clarion, I'd know, then, how much I was capable of in a single month and anything I did after that, with real life intruding on every minute of my day, would seem somehow inadequate in comparison. How well do I concentrate on a retreat completely away from home and work and all those distractions compared to when I'm at home? I think that the difference between my weekends with the Horde and my weekends at home comes from that cutoff. I have nothing *to* do other than game and socialize, I've brought nothing with me that's of home.
Dinner last night was Boston Market, which has roast chicken instead of fried chicken, but with the stuffing and spinich, it was satisfying enough. Turns out that over the last week I've lost nearly five pounds, mostly just not indulging in the food urges that stress gives me, so that's been a good thing to know, on the whole. Less fat simply means a whole lot less calories than things with fat, so I've been trying to be good.
I don't know if I actually feel any different, though it is good to no longer have the nagging in the back of my head saying that I'm *way* too fat, just enough to keep me honest about what I'm eating every day, avoid the cheesecake and really bad things until I'm playing soccer more regularly again. It's just a small effort to drink tea instead of a can of pop, and it's worth it both in taste and number of calories, I guess. I really enjoy just having Gatorade at about half strength... lots of empty calories, there, but they're ones that can go straight to my leg muscles when I need 'em.
We have a bye for the Wednesday night team and the Monday night team is playing Saturday. Which should be interesting, as John's kids got pretty far in the tournament last weekend, and will be having games this coming weekend as well.
Axioms are basic system beliefs which can be challanged. Amusingly enough, I actually equate religious beliefs with systematic axioms, where the system is reality. I have to toss the beliefs which prove unhelpful or wrong to the system.© 1997 by Liralen Li
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