Dream a little dream

I have disaster dreams when things get hairy in life. And, things have been kind of hairy.

Oh, not in Real Life. Actually as far as the normal living stuff of bills and health and relationships and all that day-to-day living that we all deal with, that’s all been pretty good. No one has died, no one is in jail, no one is fixing to (as far as I can tell, I have to leave wiggle room in there) royally screw up. Which is a very good thing…except that a real life crisis is kind of a great excuse to set aside the self indulgence of an existential or mental one. Who has time for inexplicable anxiety attacks or moodiness when you’re in a hospital with a child or planning your grandfather’s funeral?  For some reason, I seem to be at my best when someone else is having a terrible time and needs my help.

Anyway, while the hypomania and concurrent anxiety seem to be winding down (it’s still there, I can feel it like a snake coiled in the pit of my stomach, but it’s more like a little garter snake than a big ol’ water moccasin), I am having those delightful (HA) disaster dreams.


Not this…not anymore.

The last time I had one, there were tornadoes all over the place, but I was able to get everyone into an underground bunker that was well stocked with water and food and beds, even though I know tornadoes are short lived things and all you really need is the safe place, and not the provisions. It’s my dream, if I want board games and a well stocked bar, then I’ll have one.

Last night, though. Ugh. I’m watching too much Falling Skies.  In the dream, there were nuclear explosions (too much Battlestar Galactica, too) and I had a farm on the prairie in Colorado, right up near the mountains but not in them. Everyone came to the farm, looking for help. It was so frustrating because I am not a leader, not the type of person who wants to be responsible for all those hand-wringing whiners who complained because “he got more cornbread than I did” and “I don’t like goat milk” and “are these eggs free range?”  yet everyone was asking the most inane questions and making the stupidest demands with no regard or consideration for what was expedient or even possible for the group as a whole. And yet, I couldn’t shove them out and lock the gate, because they needed help, and I had the resources.  I woke up so ANGRY from that dream. Stupid people!

Then I had a dream where I wanted desperately to take a shower. I’d shampooed my hair in the sink, but didn’t rinse it, so had this head full of lather. The only shower was in the backyard, which also served as a playground for the elementary school next door.  It was full of children, who got mouthy when I asked them to leave so I could shower. So I woke up angry from that, too.  Kids these days! Bah!

So today, don’t nobody better piss me off, because I’m likely to feed them substandard cornbread with cage-raised eggs. Then chain them to a desk and force them to watch those science movies from the  late 1970’s that used that Pat Metheney song for the soundtrack.

About rootietoot

I do what I can.
This entry was posted in *whinge*, Anger management, Dream a little dream and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Dream a little dream

  1. Speaking of hairy things- My corgi got his little peepee stuck after trying to mate with my Mastiff. (she’s scheduled to be fixed after her heat cycle is over. Evidently, that’s not soon enough because he’s driving everyone crazy following her around) It was literally stuck. The sheath folded under and tightened so the blood couldn’t escape and shrink back allowing his you know what to retract. I tried the home remedies (sugar reduces swelling….vaseline to make things slip back in) and nothing worked so off to the vet he went. He had to be knocked out and have it put back, then stitched at the tip to keep it in. And now he’s in the cone of shame. You’d think he learned a lesson.


    Now he’s terrorizing her by chasing her around while wearing the cone of shame.

    • rootietoot says:

      I am trying very hard to imagine a Corgi/Mastiff cross. Did she get on her knees? Did he use a stool? Poor fella, the cone of shame and still no satisfaction.

  2. She was laying down. Slut.

  3. Bella Rum says:

    I’m catching up on your posts, and you wrote about an experiment in eating a lot of protein this week. When I scrolled up, I saw the pics of the snakes and the dog… and… well, you see where I was going with it.

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