Death

My dreams have been slightly more vivid as of late. And by late, I mean the last few months. 

Years ago, I used to have very vivid weird dreams, which I'm sure you if you search here, you'll find a handful that I discussed long back. I still remember those, even without having to reread my own entries. 

Over the last half year, or so, many of my dreams have related to loss - and that's putting it nicely. 

One, the other day, was the most concerning - as in it, I lost Shep and looked for him furiously with no resolution. I woke up in a foul mood. 

The others? Oddly less traumatic than losing a dog - but they'd all end in my death, be it by the hand of another or of my own doing. Clearly, Shep is more important to me. And why not. 

But at the end of last week, I don't actually remember the dream save for the ending. Someone like a Death Rider, Dementor or Death from Family Guy.....

.....appeared next to me - scythe and all and turns to look at me. 

Ok, he looked more Lord of the Rings-ish than a cartoon voiced by Norm MacDonald. 

How I think I reacted:  I yelled, aloud, "death!!" and sat bolt right up in bed. 

How I might have reacted:  In my head / dream, I think I yelled "death!!", and then sat up in bed. 

Either way, I sat up in bed. 

It is unclear to me where the dream actually stopped and when reality began. If I actually yelled anything aloud, 710 never stirred. Shep did not come running in.   ....but Blobby did not go back to sleep. 

To be fair to me, sometimes 710 sleeps with earphones in playing a show that time out after x amount of time to get him to sleep (usually Downton Abbey.....because if anything is gonna put you to sleep it's Lady Edith!). My recollection is that I said the word loudly, but again, I'm not sure it happened outside my head. 

I mentioned the dream to my psychiatrist yesterday. I've mentioned a few along the way. g-d love him, but let's be honest, he has to see me for my medication management, not for dream analysis. He's never offered any, but summed it up with he did not think it was anything from which to be alarmed. 

He says it nicely, professionally and reassuringly, so at least I feel "better".  But then he asks me if I need adjustment in my meds. Isn't that his job?

I "love" the pharma ads that say "tell your doctor if you have a parasitic infection".    

NO! THEY should be telling ME that. How the fuck do I know if I have a parasitic infection? 

Or, "don't take if you're allergic to (enter name of the drug they're selling)".  Um...how would I know if I'm allergic to it unless I take it? 

Deep down I know what Dr. F is getting at: do I feel like they're helping. I get that, but you know, I just gave you a bunch of info on my current state on the dosage I'm on - please give me guidance. He did, and we'll stay the course for now. 

btw.....the post title, the post itself and the artist have not escaped a sense of irony. 

Song by: Mt Joy

Dreaming

There used to be a time when I had vivid dreams and remembered them. And some I wrote down here for your enjoyment or horror. It's been a while for that. It turns out they were probably medication related. I'm no longer taking that medication. 

It still will be. 

A night or two ago I had a dream - or several - of which I remembered snippets.  One part was the furniture we ordered in the Winter finally arrived.  They don't call 'em 'dreams' for nothing. 

During an IM exchange last night, Morty texted something completely non-related, and I flashed on him and myself (and others, though I don't know who now) - and us having the bestest beach house ever, and 'we' were 'all' on vacation. I'm sure there was more to it, but I cannot remember. It's just a germ of a thought of what played in my head the night before. 

That I type that, now I remember trying to get into a restaurant named Tower 7 - which does actually exist. 

Maybe Morty is going on vaca with me.  That works for me. 

Song by: O.M.D.

Dreaming

I haven't written about dreams in forever. 

I assume I still had them, but they weren't as terrifying or as "vibrant" as they had been in the past. I'm not sorry for that. I had years and years of restless sleep due to probable medication-induced dreams / psychosis. 

A changes in meds a few years back, put an end to those borderline nightmares, of which I could not escape. Though often I knew they were dreams, I could not manage my way free. I'd wake and go right back into them when I dozed back off.  IF I dozed back off. 

The last few days I've had two dreams of which I know. 

One was like what I just mentioned. Could not escape. It had to do with Petey - our former dog. And his liver which was to be harvested for a human transplant. While the transplant never happened - in real life or in dream - I let Petey languish alone, never checking on him. The entire sequence broke my heart - and mind. 

No doubt, this brings in Shep's recent injury. While he had been doing better, he regressed a little over the weekend. He's got four eyes on him now at all times. We shan't let down our guard this time. 

The second dream was just.......you know......a dream. 

It involved two friends, Marisa and David, a married couple. Ones I haven't seen for 20 years, but are pseudo-semi in touch with on Facebook. 

David was singing me this song called "Maryland". He did it three times. On the third, I pulled out my phone and recorded it. I think I remember some of the lines, so perhaps I should Gooooooogle it to see if it is a real song. I remember laughing while recording it. 

Marisa shows up with a few kittens and I ask how her dogs will get along with them. But we are interrupted by the needs to serve Thanksgiving meals, either to the homeless, or to college students who could not go home for the holiday. The line at their front door was long as one could see.  And while the house wasn't exactly like Xenophilius Lovegood's house, the surrounding land was. 

This dream? I have no idea what this is or from whence it came. 

It's true David & Marisa have dogs, and David teaches at a college, but that might be where all points of resemblance ends. 

That was my last two nights.  Let's see what this night's (or last, in this case) imagination holds in store for me........if anything. 

Song by: Blondie

the Downward Spiral

The end of the year didn't really end with a bang.

The mother of a good friend of ours passed away suddenly and unexpectedly......from the flu !   

Well, actually, it was respiratory arrest, but brought on by the flu. She was in the latter half of her 80s, and it goes to show you that the flu this year - and many years - hits hard, especially with the elderly, young and immuno-suppressed.

Before the memorial started, James stopped by to thank us for coming. He had just gotten back from California, saying goodbye to his father who had taken ill. They knew they would most likely not see each other again. The scenario was heartbreaking. While he was in California, his husband's mother died here in Ohio. James was not there for that.

Days before, I was chatting (i.e text messaging) with a mutual friend, Chef Bob, on attending the memorial. I'd only met David's  mother 2-3 times, but I wasn't really going for her, as I was to support our friend. Chef Bob was on the fence about going and I said it was ok, as only "a real friend" would attend....shaming him into going, albeit just yanking his chain.

710 and I arrived for the memorial and we were chatting with some other mutual friends. One of them, Keith, turns to me and says, "I feel so bad for {Chef} Bob with his father dying yesterday.

Crap.

That news just took me aback. I've never met his father, but Bob and I had been exchanging some messages before xmas while he was visiting his parents - staying in the room in which he grew up. He stopped in, as he was working in their area. Complete happenstance.

I think it was the suddenness of the news compounded with being at a service for another unexpected departure. I have to admit, during this service, my mind was with Chef Bob, as opposed to David. It would have been rude to text him during this service - so I sat on my hands for the better part of an hour.

We got in touch briefly later in the day to express 710's and my condolence.

I don't need a Freud or Dr. Spo to tell me my next few days of subconscious. I was coming down with a cold to start, but my dream state was weird. Oddly, it hasn't been for a long time, but it came roaring back.  It was one of those dreams you knew it was a dream and told yourself so, but from one which you could not be extricated.......but needed to be.

Even semi-waking up and going back into sleep, it was right back into the dream. This brought on anxiety, a pounding heart and a tightening of my chest.

I should say due to all my nocturnal movements, the dog got fed up, jumped down and went into another bedroom to sleep.

By now, I was awake enough, where I'm thinking I'm getting a cold (the flu? - you mean the flu that Wilma just died from????) and having pseudo-chest pains.

Then it just kept going downhill. What if I die?  What will happen to 710?  Who will tell my mother? Will anyone call work to tell them I won't be in?  Should I go the the ED?  I should go alone, because someone has to stay with the dog.

As it turns out, I went nowhere - to the ED, the cemetery, or back to sleep.  04:00 and my night (and the following day) was over.




Song by: Nine Inch Nails

While Men are Dreaming

Lately the dreams have been constant, but don't stay with me much longer after opening my eyes.

This last one....well.......I'll try....and it won't be in order.

It came down to assimilation.

They were all very nice segments, but I saw the people I was with either disappear or see their attitudes start to change.

Now and then there'd be one or more of us who had glimmers of an outside life....one of our own feelings and ideas.

One woman, who could also see the same in me, that ability for independent thought - though I tried to conceal it, for fear of being found out - started to get attract a few bees, and then more, until they formed the shape of a bicycle helmet hovering just above her head.

It was a threat - to her and myself. Any more independent thought and the helmet of bees would be on the head. Hers. Or that the same could happen to me should I not watch myself.

There were also segments of the dream where I snapped at a 41 year old (yeah, I don't know how I knew he was 41, but he was) person who reported to me, because he didn't know what he should do because he had a headache.

And then I was standing on a table taking pictures with my iPhone of a rally around a Wexner Center for the Arts type building. The rally was sloped below the building, accessible by going down a ramp - a sea of scarlet and grey, though mostly scarlet. Folks at the rally held cards, as if they were in a Block O -like situation.

Workers who manned the tables, on one of which I was standing, didn't seem to mind me being there, but didn't encourage me to go join.

One worker approached after I was at ground level and asked if I knew of anyone who was ill. I said yes, and he wanted me to join. I thought he meant the rally, but it became clear it was more of a prayer group scenario. He was annoyed when I declined the offer.

There was also a snippet of me walking (or riding?) down Buttles Avenue side of Goodale Park, in Columbus. Morty was on the periphery, but I don't think he was with me as much as I was looking for him or supposed to be meeting up with him.

When I awoke - or perhaps before - I had this moment of clarity (that is no longer clear), where I realized my blog was sedentary. That I was doing things too by the book and not actually saying things and that it all had to change.

At that moment I knew what the blog had to become, though now I have zero idea.

Perhaps subsequent dreams will lead me to that path.




Song by: Jenny and Johnny

In My Dreams

It's time for a dream post.

I has been far far too long, not that I've had any shortage of vivid dreams. This one is full of images, though I'm not sure I can capture it all here now, but I won't say it stands out for any true weirdness.

But let's go on the journey, shall we?

I was with my former co-worker and man-date, Scott at a college football event.  We were on a slopped grassy hill, but it was well maintained in terms of cut grass and plenty of space. Peopled were decked out to watch an OSU football game in Autumn clothing even thought it was very hot out. I walked past one woman lying on her blanket watching the halftime show on her TV, even though she could have easily seen it if she had looked up.

Switch to later that night, "we" were in a club that had two levels. I'm not 100% sure who "we" were. I think Scott was there. But so was a guy from high school - a stoner. There were windows looking down from the upper level to part of the lower level bar, and I stood next to one of the windows looking down. Everyone I knew was downstairs and me up. Part of me felt that I didn't belong in that lower group, but part of my dreaming self thought I was looking for others.

I do remember coming down and socializing with that group and them giving me a hard time for being "upstairs". And that stoner guy, Colin, purposefully exhaled his last hit of pot right in my face, claiming it was so strong, I'd get high from it. And I didn't.

At this club, there was shag carpeting that was sticky from people who had spilled their drinks, and there was that slight delay of getting your shoe off of it with each step, as you felt the carpet pull with you. In my dream-mind, we were at the Akron Agora.

I had not been to that place since 1981 or 1982, and it was the second to last time I had seen Colin, so there's that.

The last part of the dream was the most interesting to me. I woke up, in a post-party haze, and stumbled down the hall. It felt like it should be my dorm (even though it looked nothing like my actual dorm). Rooms were open, beds made and unslept in, including on of John Morrow, who lived next door to me freshman year - which was also years 1981 and 1982.

Then I'm another part of the "dorm" which goes to looking like a party house where people are sleeping / passed out wherever they could find space......and this is really probably why you are getting this post.....

My friend Morty arouses from one of those spaces and is starving (that's not the expected part....just his every day routine) and glad he has someone to go get food with.

He starts giggling at what I think is this woman I used to work with, gets up as well in silk Everlast boxing shorts, but not shirt - though I only see "her" from behind. "She" puts on one of those cheesy paper top hats you'd get at a New Year's party.

As she walks away, I realize not only is it a guy, but a little person / midget / dwarf.  Morty raises one leg, so he can walk under him as he keeps moving. Morty points and laughs.

As we are on our way to find food, we pass a box for a product item that I found funny and odd. Since I had forgotten my phone, I couldn't take a picture, so I ask Morty to do the favour for me.

It's was of the Joan Armatrading Cocktail Shaker.

There she was, on the front of the box with her head slightly back, a big old smile on her face as she is shaking a frosty cocktail.

I mean - W.T. F. ?

First off, who dreams of Joan Armatrading, let alone hawking a product for making the perfect mai tai? And yes, I Gooooooogled it when I got up, no such product exists, though how eerie would have been had it been real?

I don't even own any of Joan's music, and not sure I could pick it out if you sampled it for me.

The mind is a weird thing, though I have to believe 1981-82 factors in more than I think, though I didn't know Morty, Beth (the woman who turned out to be a guy midget) or Scott back then.

Anyone who wants to interpret the dream can have at it, but I'm not paying for the session.



Song by: Big Audio Dynamite

Army Dreamers

One dream that has lasted two nights.  

What kind of fucked up world is this?

My sleep life has been spotty, at best, this last decade, but this last week or two has been beyond the pale (I think I'm using the phrase correctly).  

My fitbit would tell me how restless my sleep has been, but lately I haven't been wearing it to bed.  Perhaps I should.  But that might just depress me to see the results. 

I had remembered my dreams, for a while, these last weeks, but now I can't recall what they were about or who was in them, other than Morty, who has made an appearance in most of them.

But these last two nights, no familiar faces appeared.  It was probably a dream sequence I could have used a friendly face. 

The dreams the last two nights were apocalyptic.  

Total end of the world kind of shit.  Somewhere between the final battle at Hogwarts, the final scenes from Deep Impact and any other  lets-fight-to-save-the-deteriorated-g-d-forsaken-world-that-is-pretty-much-uninhabitable-but-we'll-make- it-work-somehow kind of movie.

All very muted tones:  greys, browns, blacks, steel blue.  You know the colour palate I'm speaking of when envisioning these kinds of movie scenes. 

Two nights of this.  

I'm not sure if it picked up exactly from where it left of on Night #1, but themes, colour schemes, etc were all continued on during Night #2. 

Lately my dreams are this way, though maybe not night to night and maybe not quite as grim.  But I can wake, get up and well....pee, then go back to bed and the continuation starts.  I would assume if you break out of the subconsciousness you break the dream cycle.  Clearly this is not happening with me. 

No, there has been no red Kool-Aid sipped before bedtime or anything like that. 

In the dreams there are battles, or more like, strategizing for battles that could never be won. Unlike the movies where that spirit for survival is present (you know, so the survivors can live amongst the hundreds of thousands of dead and decaying bodies - which they always fail to mention) doesn't exist in these dreams.  They are much more grim, much more morose, much more real. 

What it really is, is exhausting.  There is no fit sleep for the likes of me during these periods. 

Song by: Kate Bush

In Dreams

Thursday night was a weird dream night.  I have them often, but haven't relayed one here for a while.

It meant something to me, but nothing to you - even if I opted to try to describe it.  But I won't.

Believe it or not I don't write about all that happens in my life.

I will tell you the dream incorporated outdoor Bikram yoga (yes, I know that is not a thing), the Jewish Community Center here in Cleveland, a rabbi from a local temple and my cousin Bill - kind of.  And tears. Mine.  Well, my dream-self.

It was one of those dreams that went on for a lengthy period of time - seemingly all night.  I was still bent out of shape (though I know that's not the correct phrase) when I woke up.

While the dream dealt with death, it dealt more with life - both present and after.  It dealt recognition and family and a sort of healing, though oddly enough there was nothing to heal - not in the context of the dream, or even in the reality of what might lie underneath.

Often, even with my weird dreams, I don't actually remember them and sometimes nothing more than a vague feeling of them.  This time, I couldn't shake it.  It is as vivid now as it was almost a day ago.

It was also one of those dreams you had to tell someone, but not just any someone, but a specific person.  I don't know it made a lick of sense to them, but one of those things I had to verbalize just to feel a bit more centered - though I'm not sure it worked.

Yes, I'm babbling.  Yes, I know I make no sense.  It's a process, I suppose.  As I draft this before hitting the sheets, I'm hoping tonight's sleep cycle is less disruptive.

I'm all for good, or even weird dreams, but sometimes I just need a good nights sleep.



Song by:  Roy Orbison

A Different Point of View

While they say opposites attract - or at least Paula Abdul and some animated "singing" cat say it - now and again I am struck what different reactions 710 and I have to certain things.

I would say usually we are on the same page, or at least know what page each of us would be on in certain scenarios.  The other night, not so much. Not that he knew it.

Monday morning, I woke around 3:30 and smelled fire. I also heard fire engines.

Now rescue vehicles coming and going at all hours of the night is not unusual, and I've even learned, for the most part, to successfully ignore them. If I didn't, I'd never sleep, or think.

Oddly enough, I was having an extensive dream that involved fire and that chick from Law & Order SVU. Perhaps, I incorporated fire into my subconscious, or the entire dream, because I smelled smoke. Or maybe like Firestarter, I conjured up flames.

I laid there for an hour or two a few minutes contemplating 'what to do'. The sirens were continual, but not really getting any closer.  Yes, the windows were open, but there was no breeze to speak of - so no real blowing smoke from a nearby fire into the house.

Finally, I lightly whispered to a sleeping 710, "do you smell smoke".  He awoke immediately and said, "yes!".

We were out of bed - both nekkid - looking for....well, I don't know what. He saw nothing, I saw nothing, the sirens had stopped and hadn't gotten close to our house, let alone in our actual 'hood.  Our house wasn't on fire.

He went back to bed and immediately fell asleep.

...and that's where our paths diverge.

I stayed awake. Wide awake.

What if?

Where was Sophie? How would we get her out - and what would we do with her once we did?  What exit would we use? Where were my clothes and glasses?  What do we try to save?  When was the last time I backed up my laptop - and even if I did, where was the external hard drive? Do we need the house reassessed to take into account the renovations - so when we filed an insurance claim we had entire coverage? Where would we stay during reconstruction time?

....yeah.....there  was no going back to sleep for Blobby.

I don't have ideations of how I'll die, but in a fire seems to rank up there in the crappiest fashion, which is most likely the real reason I never went back to Dream SVU land - all those questions just filled in the time.  Yet next to me was the man I'm spending my life with - asleep and unaware.


Song by: Pet Shop Boys

I'm Not Dead

I haven't blogged about a dream in a while.  Remember when I used to do that all the time?

I still have dreams - and I don't mean like dreams and aspirations.  Those died when we got a house and had to pay mortgage and play "grown-up".

The dreams I speak of are the ones after I close my eyes and go off to la-la-land.

I used to have some very vivid dreams, that I would recount here. I still have dreams, just not as often and usually not enough to remember let alone commit to the blog.

Perhaps it is time of the season, but the other night I was visited by three......well, not ghosts, but three versions of Death.

They all were a cross between the regular robe and sickle angel of death and a Dementor.  The first one scared me a bit but I remember yelling at it face-to-face and he just left.

The second encounter was just that.  Unnerving, but no face to face. She - yes she - walked down the hall and past the room I was sitting in.  She had a smaller frame than what you'd think of Death being.  Also the robes had very very slight tinges of red where you'd normally see the garment frayed.  Of course, that's how you knew it was a she!

It was the last one that was weird....and maybe I'm taking it from seeing too much Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows lately.  If you remember in Part 1, they tell the story of The Tale of the Three Brothers and how the last brother greeted death like an old friend.

That is what it was like.  There was a niceness and calm to meeting Death in this dream.

Clearly I am not dead - or perhaps I am blogging from beyond the grave.  Oooooh.......spooooky.  I woke up a little off-kilter but still very calm, as one might imagine.

But, at least Death wasn't a woman!



Song by: Pink

Dreams

I haven't posted a dream in a long long time.

Remember when I used to post many, in great detail?  I haven't been remembering my dreams as much as I used to.  But now and again I have unsettling dreams.  Not nightmares, not totally disturbing ones, but the kind that leave you feeling uncomfortable.

The point of this post isn't to tell you my actual dream.  It dealt with loss and being left behind and looking for what was now missing.

I'm no armchair psychologist, but I would venture to guess it had to do with the break-in and robbery of last week.  Overall, except for being a prisoner in my own house when I'm here working during the day, I haven't felt the creepiness factor I thought I would of having someone in the house while I was here.  That feeling I predicted a week ago would come just has not.  Unless you count REM cycles.

But even the dreams aren't outwardly disturbing like the Panic Room.  Sure, Jodie Foster is way more manly than I am, but for most who entered that house, it did not end well for most of them.

What I hated about this dream, and I have had it with others, is that I know it is a dream.  I'm not so far into my sleep cycle that I'm conscious it is a dream.  I feel I'm pretty much awake, but unable to alter or exit the storyline in my head.

It's not only frustrating, but when I do wake up fully I'm out of sorts and either upset or mad.  Yes, I've woken up mad - normally at Denton - about something I dreamed that wasn't even real.

Unfortunately, this has occurred the last few nights and leaving me under-rested.  That is not good.  You don't want me tired and off my game.  It's never pretty.



Song by:  Grace Slick

Sleep Keeps Me Awake

I'm here. I'm here. Just a little later than usual.

Last night was a rough one. No, there was no drinking or carousing. Quite the opposite: it was a quiet night at home with chinese take-out (the food, not the people) and I think I was in bed by 22:30. Exciting, huh?

Spin and workout and a long-feeling work week kind of did me in, not that I'm that exciting of a guy anyway when it comes to weekend nightlife.

And then there are changes to our bedtime behaviour too. No - not that. Grow up.

I think last night's/this morning's restlessness started with a dream. My dreams were ALL over the place - more so than usual. No James Franco this time, but my first one, which I remember nothing made me wake up in an unsettled state. One where not only could I not fall back asleep, I didn't want to either. I did not want to go back to there.......wherever "there" was.

Then I just had odd dreams, when I did go back to there.

In between said dreams was one little lonely cat. She has never been prone to visiting me in bed for pets, but last night she was very very needy. While I shouldn't reward her behaviour for keeping me awake (or was it I keeping her awake?), I can't help but pet her and try to settle her down.

...and she did settle down, like 4-5 times during the night, each with a corresponding wake-up call for me. Yayyyy.

But what I do love about Sophie is how she settles in - either at night or just when sitting next to us in a chair - and I think I have mentioned this in much earlier posts about her........she likes to put her cat butt up to the side of my chest, or sometimes at my hip.

I have long ago made assumptions about why she does this. She likes to feel the heartbeat of one of us. Whether it was her mom's or the fact that in her rescue cage, she slept on top of her brothers and sisters and always had that warmth and a heartbeat she could feel. She likes that closeness.

The hip one, I don't have quite figured out, but I suspect that is a warmth thing. As winter approaches, I will find her more on top of me while sitting in a chair (not so much in the hot hot summer months) and when I sleep - between my legs. That was fine when she was a 4lb kitten, but she's almost three times that size now.

So oddly enough, I'm up late, but not due to sleep. I just lay up on bed snuggling with a girl who is a little alone and figuring out how to move forward with a new routine. We just have to figure out what that means for all of us.

It's gonna be a long day for a bike ride with little zzzzzzs.



Song by: Michelle Shocked

I Dreamed a Dream

I have not written about any of my dreams in long long while. It used to be an on-going, yet underlying, stream in this blog.

And here we are - another tale to tell. It's not that interesting. I mean, it's wart related. And kind of Spidermen related. Yeah - you heard me correctly.

If you really want to dig through my archives (and I don't think you do), you might remember that I've had a thumb-wart for about two years. First thought to be just a callous, I finally sought treatment. All I can say is that the doctor somehow managed to mangle it worse than the original problem. Those nine times of freezing did nothing but make matters worse - at least the looks department. I've spared you any images because you are a squeamish bunch.

However, a little stock tip: buy in Band-Aid (no, not "do they know it's xmas) or Curad. I will be wearing two to three bandages a week, probably for life.

So my dream. Friday night it was that the wart fell out. I was left with a gaping hole in my right thumb. Yes, there were little remnants of wart at the bottom of the thumb-hole, but I knew it was only a matter of time they too fell out and the wound healed from the inside-out.

The Spidermen (nah, not a typo, that's what I call him: Jewish webslinger by night, CPA by day) reference? I was showing the chick who played MJ in the movies my thumb. I was ecstatic.

Imagine my disappointment when waking up and seeing said bandage still covering my shame. Ok - not upon waking up, but when I went to the showers after working out. I think about it mostly then because the band-aid usually comes off in the shower.

{sigh}



Dream Update: I just woke up and this time I rode from a city street into a bike shoppe with Morty, which was attached to a restaurant/diner. Literally rode into it. Everything was chicken on the menu. I ordered some chicken salad with mandarin oranges and it came with waffles, which I don't even like. I wasn't going to do it, but a guy in a suit asked the owner (who looked suspiciously like the principal from Glee), if it wasn't the mayor's favourite and without looking up from the paper, the owner affirmed and said the waffles were traditional. Oh and at some point, Morty turned into Denton.


Song by: Kathy Geiss (yes, Don Geiss' daughter from '30 Rock' - I mean, you saw that episode, right?)

The Air That I Breathe

Cold-wise, I thought I was doing so much better the last two days. I was a little congested, but only a little and even had long periods of dryness. And nothing had turned into the heavy heavy chest that would turn into cough.

That was then. This is now.

I'm still don't really have a runny nose, but I woke up this morning gasping for breath. Somehow the manual override to switch from nose-breathing to mouth-breathing didn't automatically kick in.

So, there I lay - struggling to breathe in bed figuring this is how, one day, the end would be.

If so, at least I'll have the cats next to me making it for an easy transition to death's door. They loved having a dad awake who'd pet them in the early early morning.

It's odd, because other than that whole "breathing thing", I don't really feel bad at all. I'm a little sleep deprived and my throat is a bit dry due to having to mouth breathe, but other than that.......

I'm not sure it helped my sleep habits that I dreamed about vampires most of the night. I distinctly remember waking up at one point thinking I no longer ever had to read or see that Twilight / True Blood stuff because it all just came to me in my dreams. Then I realized they weren't actually the same thing - and still realized I didn't need to see or read either of them.

But of course, they live in coffins (ok, at least Barnabus Collins did!) and not sure how much air they need to get through the day. Just a pint of B+. Right now, that seems totally like an option!


Song by: the Hollies

High Dive

It all happens in such slow motion - yet at the speed of light.

She is standing on a train platform with her back to the tracks. I am approaching, but still at a considerable distance. People are scattered at the large outdoor station on the slight hill - waiting for their morning transport.

With no one seemingly around, she falls. Backward. U-shaped. Almost like a reverse jackknife, but not as severe in the bend of her back.

I arrive at the platform and walk to the edge, just as others do at the same time - though oddly not as many as you'd think.

She is there - the small of her back, broken on the closest rail, as her body lays across it and spills into the space between the second one. She doesn't move - nor will she ever again.

The train will not come this morning.



....such is my dream.

song by: Maria McKee

Cruisin' USA

Yes, I know you're thinking because of the title that this is going to be some kind of sex post - but you'd be wrong.

Cruisin' USA is a full-on arcade game, where players sit in a car seat and via video game, race from west coast to east, if you have have enough quarters or are a good enough driver to win free turns.

The first time I played this was at Jillian's Pool Hall. Slusser (that bastard owes me twenty bucks) and his then partner, Tom Q were in town. I don't know why and don't even remember if they stayed with us. I do remember ending up at Jillians, shooting pool, drinking beer and then Slusser got me to go 'drive'. I was horrible - probably because I was drunk. But the motion of the game made me queasy too.

Eventually, I got over that. Not during their visit, but with the multiple multiple times, per week, that I would go out drinking with my boss. We started driving drunk. A dollar at a time. Being a creature of habit, I'd always pick the same car and eventually knew the roads from the hills of San Francisco, through the redwoods and Chicago, that I'd eventually end up in DC partying in a hot tub on top of the White House with Bill Clinton. I kid you not - that is how the game ended if you won. Oh - and there were lots of scantily clad women in said hot tub.

But our lives change: Cruisin' USA games were eventually replaced by Cruisin' the World - which wasn't nearly as fun. My boss was fired. And I wasn't going out anymore - or at least to that degree. It's been years since I've played this game.

Imagine my surprise last night when my dream was about this. Over and over and over. The dreams wasn't as animated and I was following (or losing to?) Denton's BMW which was in the distance in front of me. I drove over a repeating loop of road that went through Hartford.

Now I've only been to Hartford proper twice. But on one trip, five years ago, I killed a day by walking a lot. It was a main road that went through downtown and up through some scary neighborhoods to Trinity College. Somewhere I had to pass a statue of Casimir Pulaski. This was all in the dream. Including a car crash and a police officer who was directing traffic around it.

I thought exercise was supposed to make you sleep better.