To Sleep Perchance To Dream.

Ok, having a nightmare tends to be decidedly unpleasant…  having a nightmare that reoccurs over several nights is another matter entirely.  Waking up to the same shitty reoccurring nightmare at 2:50am for the third straight night and then back pain keeping you from going back to sleep turns the slightly inconvenient to a right pain in the arse!  🙁

I had a horrible dream the other night, then yesterday morning again and then the same dream again at stupid o’clock this morning.  And it scared the living hell out of me – each time.  I guess having bad dreams about being in car accidents when you’ve been in a few hideous incidents is likely to do that to you… but this dream seems particularly gut wrenching and particularly vivid, and it is leaving me with a horrible churning sensation in the pit of my stomach…

I was driving in my car, following a friend on a dual carriage way and he was weaving in and out of the traffic a bit and I found myself continually speeding up in an attempt to keep up… but my friend’s car kept pulling further away from me.  I kept watching his car as I tried to catch up to him, when obviously I should have been watching the traffic around me instead.  Suddenly I was faced with a corner (wtf?) that consisted of a red Camry and a blue 4WD.  I didn’t even try to stop – there was no time.  I ran straight into the ‘corner’ at full speed and that sickening sound, the crunch of twisting metal and scraping steel ripped through my head… to me it is the sound of impending trauma and pain.  Lots of pain.

It woke me with a jolt on each occasion and my heart was racing one hundred miles an hour, and I felt like I was going to be sick.  Not a surprising reaction I guess considering I’ve had four nasty MVAs in the past – a couple of which, no one knows how I walked away from.

thermal hot springs monkey butts

I don’t need this…  Why can’t I dream about cabins in the woods with bearskin rugs, fireplaces and cognac or half naked men bearing drinks with little umbrellas in them on white sandy beaches or thermal hot springs filled with monkeys sitting in them getting red butts!  But no.  I get car crashes.   🙁

Maybe I should change my drugs…

Could be I’ve run out of drugs…

I just had the most bizarre dream.

My Dad was still alive and he was in the house on Dickenson St with my Mum and the big old camphor laurel tree from over the back was still there and I turned up there after school/work? and was told they were getting rid of the house and were bringing in a block of townhouses to replace it.  Now I don’t mean that they were demolishing the house and building some townhouses, they somehow took away the house I grew up in and as if by magic but with lots of sweaty workmen running about a entire complete block of townhouses each about the size of my house but attached were put on the block my parents lived on which let me tell you is physically impossible.

The townhouses were one for them, one for my older sister and one for me… my younger sister having decided that she preferred to stay where she was.  We were all so excited to be living back at home but in these huge houses.  There were no stairs yet so I had to climb up this rockface (which was very easy and familiar as it was somewhere we used to climb alot when we were at Straddie as kids) and part way up I found a safe.  I opened the safe and in it there were lots of old photos from when I was a kid, my old Zippo lighter, and other little knick knacks and treasures from when I was younger which I was showing to an old friend (I don’t know who) and reminiscing over them.  

When I finally got into the townhouses, for some reason I expected them to be a bit run down inside or somehow unsubstantial, but everything was all brand new and I remember thinking ‘wow, a suspended concrete floor – that’s a bit full on’ and it was unexpectedly solid given it had just been put there.  So I’m going through the place checking out the building, noting there is space for my dining table and that all my furniture will fit in my townhouse and that the other townhouses were just as huge when I run into another (this time identifiable) old friend whom I haven’t seen for a couple of years.

I got the impression he was sort of squatting there but that everyone knew about it and it was okay.  He was with some guy I didn’t know and they were both looking after babies.  One of the babies was just an infant but my friend was running around after a toddler.  We chatted a bit and I asked about his girlfriend and work and nonsense like that.  He asked after my family and my sister and I told him my family were out and my sister had gone belly dancing.  My friend and I continued to go through the house all interested and excited about the place and everywhere we went he or I would ‘accidentally’ touch each other’s hand or move close to feel the other’s body and then I offered to cook everyone dinner.

I was in the kitchen preparing dinner and my friend was helping me, and we were flirting, bumping into each other and talking when things suddenly turned a bit heated.  I leaned into him and he kissed the back of my neck and he picked me up onto the kitchen bench and started kissing me and I was getting all hot and bothered and knew we were about to have sex but I started to get that ‘hey hang on a minute, someone might come in feeling’ when someone did indeed come in and Mr K knocked on my door and woke me up.

Damn his timing!  Oh and I am sooooo not telling who the guy was but I will say it was not Edouardo and it was someone I haven’t not thought about in quite a while and haven’t seen since oh…   maybe 2005??

Parking Fairy? Are you listening?

I’ve been conspicuously absent of late.  No wait, conspicuously kinda implies that there’s a possibility that there’s someone out there who might have noticed my absence and maybe even missed me or been wondering where I’ve gotten to, which I guess is hightly unlikely. 

But I digress (how easy we slip into old habits).  I bought a lotto ticket today.

This for many people I believe is not a remarkable occasion but you see I don’t buy lotto tickets…. ever.  Because I have no Parking Fairy which means the exercise of buying lotto tickets is preordained as futile so why bother.

There are some people in life who have them and some people who don’t…. Parking Fairies that is.  You know the type – those who are blessed by the Parking Fairy.  They drive to a ridiculously busy public function and voila! they find the perfect convenient park directly out front of where they want to be.  They forget their wallet at home and fortuitously find $10 in the street with which to buy lunch.  They get an unexpected large medical/automotive or household bill and some distant relative they’ve never met carks it and leaves them $6,000.  Everyone knows one of _those_ people.

Well I ain’t one of them.  If I need a carpark in an uber busy environment I’ll drive around for 20 minutes and eventually park miles away in disgust.  If I leave my wallet at home it means I don’t get to have lunch and if I ever end up with huge unexpected bills I end up borrowing money from Peter to pay Paul.  Such is life… no Parking Fairy for me!  I’m  used to the shit luck thing though, in amongst the four shitty car accidents, horrible chronic pain, infertility, miscarriages, blah, blah, blah, blah, (wait, that was why I stopped writing in this thing a while ago – swift change of topic required!)

fortunate lucky people leprachaun

Okay so no Parking Fairy leads to never buying lotto tickets…. but… I have a dream!  A dream that needs lots of fucking money.  So I thought why not buy a damn lotto ticket if anyone should win big bucks on Halloween it ought to Borys who has had a permanent little black cloud following her around her whole life.

So here’s the cunning plan….

1) We win lotto and we need to win big!

2) We go to place randomly selected on a map of Europe by virtue of throwing a dart.

3) We purchase a BIG FUCK OFF double decker bus

4) We gut it, have it fit out with living space for 8, dining space for 8, four double beds, bathroom, all the mod cons.

5) We hire a driver so we never have to draw straws to see who has to drive at the vineyards.

6) We hire a teacher so the Small Child can keep up by Distance Ed.

7) We drive everywhere we want, living on the bus, going to all strange and wonderful out of the way towns and visiting museums, universities, art galleries, nightclubs, toy shops whatever we want!

8) We spent lots of money flying friends over to join us on the bus… two friends coming for a couple of weeks here to tour Italy, another couple of mates coming for a few weeks there to tour Poland. 

9) We make a documentary of the trip cos I’m sentimental like that

10) Maybe… maybe… we come back one day.

So that’s the cunning plan… now all we need is for Borys to get herself a Parking Fairy!

I prefer yellow snakes and they’re always at the bottom of the packet.

I had a nightmare in the early hours of this morning.  Happens quite a lot when you take as much medication as I do.  Apprently the sedatives etc render you unconscious but you end up missing out on most of the proper REM sleep that you need because the drugs seem to inhibit it somehow.  So when the medications wear off your brain rapidly tries to cram in all the REM sleep that you’re supposed to be getting in like 45 minute cycles all night and when that happens… very vivid dreams right before waking not all of which are pleasant.

This morning I woke up feeling very anxious after dreaming about snakes.  I hate snakes (long story of bushwalking incidents as a kid).  In my dream we (my cousins and myself) were outside getting started on demolishing stuff to build the room extension we’re planning, when suddenly I saw a red and black striped/banded snake…. a very bright, vibrantly coloured red and black snake.  I went inside to the kitchen to get a shovel (shovel in the kitchen ???) with the intention of smacking it over the head.  When I got outside there was no one else there and the snake had trebled in size.  I was getting ready to strike at it when I saw that there was a whole nest of little ones that appeared to be coming out of nowhere.

I didn’t know which way to look or what to do and stood there helplessly unable to anything as they all rapidly grew in size and slithered into the house… and then I stood there rooted to the spot unable to go back into the house.  Which is where I woke up.

Go figure.

Abandon the search for truth and settle for a good fantasy.

I don’t have an overly vivid fantasy life.  I don’t mean I’m not imaginative or creative because I am both these things.  What I’m referring to is sexual fantasies I guess.   I’ve never fantasized about specific people, places, things or situations.  I’ve never really dreamed of being with a certain celebrity or distant and unobtainable acquaintance.  I’m not into porn and usually react with curiosity rather than arousal when confronted with it.  I’ve never created elaborate scenarios in my mind that turn me on.  I’ve never even imagined myself with someone other than the person I’m with…  just nothing like that at all really.

I know!  How boring am I?

Mostly I don’t give a shit and I think it stems from the fact that I’m just too damn grounded in reality to waste engery waxing lyrical about unlikely or purely hypothetical crap.  I have maybe one or two flights of fancy floating around in my subconscious that no doubt stem from seemingly innocent things in my formative years that have somehow taken up residence in the ‘Hey.. I think that could be kinda fun ;)’ neighbourhood in my brain… but ultimately it’s nothing worth writing home about.

A few people I know have very vivid sexual fantasies that become so integral to who they are that they seem to define their entire beings by them.  You know what I mean?  This person doesn’t just say ‘I’ve got a bit of a foot fetish’… no this person says ‘I’m a foot fetishist’ like that is so large a part of who they are that they feel they can sum themselves up entirely with just that descriptor.  I know people who have incredibly creative fantasies… Rule 34, people!).   They nurture their fantasies, they embellish them, they vocalize them, they write them down and many often set about turning them into realities.

dreams explored fantasy“If your sexual fantasies were truly of interest to others, they would no longer be fantasies” – Fran Lebowitz

I’ve had quite a few friends ‘confess’ their secret fantasies to me over the years.  ‘Confess’ is the word we – and they – tend to use especially if it’s about something out in Sprinkle Territory.  You know Sprinkle Territory… yes?  It’s not totally mainstream or Vanilla but it’s not so socially unacceptable or illegal that they won’t discuss it at all.  So it’s mostly Vanilla but sometimes they secretly want some interesting little Sprinkles on their Vanilla…. maybe also with cherries, latex, chocolate chips, red ribbons, lattes and buttplugs.   Some of my friends (who shall remain nameless to protect the extremely perverted 🙂 have very surreal and sophisticated and sometimes surprisingly specific fantasies and fetishes and they’re prepared to expend all sorts of energy and resources to incorporate into their lives.

Being one of those friends that people find it easy to discuss personal things with can be a bit of a double edged sword – it’s a good thing if a friend really needs to talk confidentially about their inner desires without fear of reproach but it’s also a really fucking bad thing if a friend turns out to be some sort of fucked up, delusional, self aggrandizing drama queen who wants to draw you into their own special little nightmare and suck the very life blood out of you.

Apparently I am one of ‘those friends’ that people find it easy to talk to about… ‘stuff’.   Which I think is weird given that I know I’m not always that easy to get to know.  I know come across as a bit aloof or prickly sometimes (Yes… and THAT will no doubt be understatement of the year).  Anyway, I think people talk to me not because I’m an especially good listener (becuase I’m not – I think talk too much and am way too opinionated for that tag) but rather because I’m generally not very judgemental.  Well not judgemental of others… judging myself is another therapy session entirely.  I’ve always seemed to just accept people as they are and based on how they interact with me personally.  I don’t tend to make rapid kneejerk judgement calls and my usual response to someone telling me they’re way off into some uncharted and unfamiliar plot in Sprinkle Territory is curiosity rather than condemnation or discrimination.

I’ll research and Google stuff (always with a certain amount of trepidation) so I can maybe try to understand their particular proclivity and what motivates them but it’s always a purely academic exercise and I’ve yet to see anything that has me thinking… ‘Oh hells yes!’  and every now and then I find mysef a little envious of those friends and their very vivid and explicitly erotic imaginings and I think to myself…

‘Hey!  Where’s my Honey Smacks?  How come I don’t seem to have any Sprinkles?’