Burgled?

A big home, lots of natural mesquite railings from room to room, all connected with staircases. Gentle, pine-filled breezes trailing in and out the structure seated in the natural terrain of the slope. My ponderosa friendly dream house. Literally.

I woke up with the odd image of me holding hands with a handsome guy as we rollerbladed around a shopping mall. Earlier, as we had shopped for the upcoming party, my husband and his former wife had driven off without me. By the time I made my way to the house, it was clear that while it looked perfect, the place was a little over populated as both of my husband's exwives were living there too. And what really bit was that he preferred them to me.

After the second or so cup of coffee, I realised that the dream probably had something to do with my six-foot- plus tall, teenage son climbing through the window at 1AM, and my husband yelling that he could have been shot as a burglar. All suddenly semiconcious were, from that point, robbed for the rest of the night of a restful night's sleep. Burgled. .. Time to have a key made for the boy.

NOW

Now you're really starting to vex me. I do the AIM thing, then you disappear, but you're oh so happy to have caught up with me again, well. Things don't happen for the roll of the cosmic dice , my dear! I need you now. It's raining frogs at my place, OK?
And what is "M?" What's with your monacure- Oh, I know I didn't spell it right, but I'm too uptight to look it up. Do people still say " up tight?" See? I tell you I'm LOST! OK, Spell check, right, what will that really do for me? I mean really. It doesn't change who I am or my dyslexic way of thinking does it?
Will "spell check" erase the tantrum I threw at the professional construction workers at the Habitat site Thursday? No! Reality isn't based on the keyboard.

Coffee with dream

I had an action, mystery, B movie dream again last night.

Most of it was new, except for the car brakes going out and the gunfire...

I put the head of the mouse the kitten had killed under a piece of tape with a caption for placement in her baby book. My husband told me that was gross.
When the car was speeding wildly out of controll, I took a left to try to slow it down, only to find I was decending a steep hill. The rise coming up was thick with dirty snow, and as luck would have it, thats where the cars were swerving to dodge bullets. The lead bad guy recognized me which surprised me because the flunky terrorists holding my family hostage at the house were still there, and as far as I knew had not revealed my identity. I had laughed at them, telling them they had failed, for whatever their plan, I didn't feel that I was in terror.

In the conscious world, we were having our coffee and watching the morning news when my husband told me that the cat had left a gift on the patio during the night. It was a mouse- never before had that happened.
Moments later our very quiet and narrow street roared with a speeding car. The knowledge that at that speed it would never clear the turn at the bottom of the hill, lifted us out of our chairs. Before we reached the window we heard the impact.
A tree obstructed our view, but beyond it was a cloud of brown dirt. Through the arcadia door I saw my neighbors' van pushed crooked in her driveway.
I phoned for help right away. My husaband saw the perp flee the scene. His decription was accurate, but his words were stifled with pain. Apparently, in the excitement, he forgot the step down to the porch. He and his new hip joints landed where he had found the mouse earlier.
Paramedics and a police report followed. The rest of the morning was spent in the ER. The kids were pretty much hostages in their own home intil we returned.
The bad guy, 5 times over the legal alcohol limit, was chased down by other neighbors who convinced him to return to the scene.
This, in particular, does not happen every day. But something big happens so frequently that while I used to think every body has problems, I'm rethinking. I don't think anyone has a life this absurd, or full of little emergencies, or chaotic, or.... I don't know how to classify it. This can't ne normal.
I feel like a magnet for the weird.
I think I'll stay awake tonight.

Gypsy

Bartering seems fair enough, unless you're broke and the rent is coming up. The Gypsy wasn't the only one I saw this weekend who told me I had a good spirit. My art, it would seem does too. I've been fighting so hard for peace and harmony, that the effort has drained me to the point of screaming on the inside, "no, you're wrong, my glow is opaque at best!"
I don't know. Todays readings were about seeds, and weeds. Pulling out the later, you can toss out some of the good stuff. So, what's the benefit of trying if noone listens? Do I let the weeds grow willy-nilly and wait for Darth Vader to come along with some angelic muse like in the third film? (Whatever that means) It's not the first time lately I've been told to give up. And then there were the "Godesses" on the sidewalk who laughed at my jokes, and said I was one of them. Is letting go the same as cashing it in, or letting it ride. Its a gray-haired cosmic gamble.

Hormones, testosterone and bullshit

I slept pretty well last night except for the waking up part. The stresses of a blended family hit an all time high yesterday. I was at work when my teenage son and my teenage stepdaughter got into a bickering match which exploded into an out & out brawl. It peaked with an act of sibling violence that was whitnessed by my husband.
I strolled in about 5:30 joking that dinner wasn't on the table. There was a wall of tention like
a sticky veil of cobwebs in a horror movie. The kind that though courage was needed to push through, it was inevitable that what was on the other side was even worse. I was sat down for the lecture. I was not permitted to speak as I heard the sorted details, then handed an ultimatum to envoke corporal punshment or suffer splitting of the sheets, putting an end to this little piece of paradise. Lovely.

Hormones and testosterone,
Clash until they cry and moan,
Threat to run away from home,
The kid now has a bald dome,
Peace and trust fuckin blown,
Still together all alone.

Think we need therapy?

Lancaster Loop

Did it. Rode the defy- all-reasoning "airbus" to PA with a box of cremaines at my toes. Mom's last flight, so to speak. (Not counting the angel-lift last December, of course.) So, six months to the day after her death, her earthly carbon was laid to rest in just the spot she arranged so long before. ..centuries before...eons ago when she could still make a decision, a cohereant sentence, a thought... back when she knew who I was, when she could remember her own name. Terrible thing Alzheimers.
They say once its on the internet, its out there- it never goes away. So how far does it go? I've heard of people emailing saints and God even. Surely that is of psychological benefit to the sender. Just like the weeds pulled from the vacant lot where Mother's childhood home once stood, and those from that accross the street where her Aunt Louise used to live. Its possible they'll seed and take root on that tiny little plot where I laid them. In her combative stage, Mom would carry a chair around the neighborhood trying to find her mother's or Aunt Louise's house. So the weeds were the best I could do. Home isn't always where you left it.
There I was in Lancaster County, among the Amish. It occurred to me that I really ought to read the words in those pretty coffee table books that I have inherited about the culture. Apparently I acted in taboo by photographing those country folk... Its that "graven image" thing, not the stealing of souls that is the popular belief among "the English"... and my cousins.
I still look forward to seeing all those blurry shots .
Speaking of cousins and blurry shots, the two go hand-in hand. Payton Place has nothing on that clan. The scandals that have festered over the past few years have nearly caused a Hatfield & McCoy senario. I crossed enemy lines in effort to instigate peace. There is so much distrust between the factions that I got mixed reviews for my holy work, and only time will tell if those seeds will germinate.
In all, the Lancaster loop renewed my own sense of peace and priority.
Thanks to those of you who helped me overcome my reservations about flying. Pun intended.