And then some.
This blog started so that I could write about my kids in little spurts, so they might have something look back on in 60 years and wonder at the daily ins and outs of their mother's life. But it always turns into a thing about me. I am torn by this, but then I figure it will make for good reading anyway. Fuck it.
So I've been dreaming like crazy recently. My most memorable, or maybe the last before I woke up this morning was about an old friend of mine who I haven't seen for a long time. He and I were in an apartment that I lived in after I left my ex, but in the dream that apartment belonged to my friend Amy and her husband. (In real life the friend who owned that apartment is now a best-selling author and Jake Gyllenhall is going to play him in a movie next year, even though this is insane irony). Anyway, back to the dream. So I'm in the bathroom and he comes in and I think he is intending to kiss me (my current familial situation does not exist so this is not a dilemma), but as his arm touches my back he collapses. His eyes roll up and suddenly I notice the pins. Tiny silver sewing pins, some with red, yellow or blue heads, imbedded all over his torso, in his face, his chin, his hands. I start to panic and then realize I need to get them out. I pull them out slowly and every couple of minutes he comes to and then passes out again. Som of these pins are clustered, a dozen or so that they bring blood when I remove them. When I am done he wakes up, the kiss is forgotten. He remembers his child and that we have to find him. We rush off and this dream is now replaced by Jaya and I taking a sign language class. We are wearing matching pants - bright orange and the teacher is beautiful with short pitch black hair. But her hands are what I remember now. The top section of each digit is missing. She still signs perfectly, spelling out E-A-T on stubby little digits. She has a little boy, her son, in the front row of the class who must be about 6. She stops spelling, pauses momentarily to run her hand across his brow the way mother's do, and I marvel at the fact that her deformity seems to disappear, she is like any other mother. Then Choco climbed on my face and very distinctively yelled "BA!". Good morning.
I'm going to run errands and sedate myself with Starbucks.
So I've been dreaming like crazy recently. My most memorable, or maybe the last before I woke up this morning was about an old friend of mine who I haven't seen for a long time. He and I were in an apartment that I lived in after I left my ex, but in the dream that apartment belonged to my friend Amy and her husband. (In real life the friend who owned that apartment is now a best-selling author and Jake Gyllenhall is going to play him in a movie next year, even though this is insane irony). Anyway, back to the dream. So I'm in the bathroom and he comes in and I think he is intending to kiss me (my current familial situation does not exist so this is not a dilemma), but as his arm touches my back he collapses. His eyes roll up and suddenly I notice the pins. Tiny silver sewing pins, some with red, yellow or blue heads, imbedded all over his torso, in his face, his chin, his hands. I start to panic and then realize I need to get them out. I pull them out slowly and every couple of minutes he comes to and then passes out again. Som of these pins are clustered, a dozen or so that they bring blood when I remove them. When I am done he wakes up, the kiss is forgotten. He remembers his child and that we have to find him. We rush off and this dream is now replaced by Jaya and I taking a sign language class. We are wearing matching pants - bright orange and the teacher is beautiful with short pitch black hair. But her hands are what I remember now. The top section of each digit is missing. She still signs perfectly, spelling out E-A-T on stubby little digits. She has a little boy, her son, in the front row of the class who must be about 6. She stops spelling, pauses momentarily to run her hand across his brow the way mother's do, and I marvel at the fact that her deformity seems to disappear, she is like any other mother. Then Choco climbed on my face and very distinctively yelled "BA!". Good morning.
I'm going to run errands and sedate myself with Starbucks.
