Dream Journal

[Phoebe]

I had a really, really realistic and bad dream last night. I woke up thinking it was real and unable to find out because I didn't want to bother people. Luckily have found out it was not real. Also had a completely freaky dream where a person I knew briefly over 20 years ago and have not seen or heard from or of since (in part because the person lives halfway across the globe) suddenly appeared at a work event, and three hours later I was in a work meeting and one of the attendees conveyed his greetings from that very person to me. Brrrr. The problem with these things is that the rational mind has explanations for it that don't involve "normal" being very normal at all. There is no particular reason why we should assume time runs at all, much less that it runs forward, just because it appears to us that way in our local environment, right? Scared to go back to bed. I blame this day. And the work is never, ever done, and it just keeps on mounting up to infinity.

[bralbovsky]

So as not to dream I basically gave up sleeping. Not for everyone, but the few dreams I recall are fleeting and fragmentary and mostly harmless.
Work to infinity is the worse problem. I have no solution other than frequently beg forgiveness. Occasionally of myself.

[Phoebe]

The recurring dream of paradise:
There are many smooth, rocky canyons in wonderful colors. It's warm enough to swim in the ocean but not too warm. The water is clear. One travels from pool to pool, occasionally pausing to sit on a bit of sand or sun on the smooth big rocks. Medium waves roll gently by.

[Eliahad]

I had a dream about militant seagulls last night. Pixar animated finding Nemo militant seagulls. I knew they were militant because, even though they were animated, they had bandoleers and bandannas, and I think a few of them had cigarettes sticking out of their mouths. When they said "mine" it felt much more sinister... They would make good bounty hunters.

[poorpete]

Last night my four-year-old said in her sleep: "like when I turned into a baby."

[Phoebe]

Dreamed that a mountain lion had gotten into the house (oops) and attacked my son (very scary, could never really confirm what happened to him before waking). Lots of other stuff was going on around this central theme but that was the essence of it. Woke up with a little scream - husband points out correctly that this is the kind of "things I cannot possibly control will harm my kids!" dream one has when lots of other unrelated anxieties are building up. Wow, please, to the weekend and some rest.

[Phoebe]

Fevers come with silly rhyme
When I spend excessive time
Between these flannel sheets of mine
Recalling phrases like "looks fine".
First it's hot and then it's cold
Blankets fall when being rolled
Indeed he looks a little old
But eyebrows never can be trolled
Did I dream it? Was it real?
Most acutely did I feel
The taste of misplaced hair as meal
A dish one shouldn't have to steal

[Phoebe]

Dog Dreams

I'm a dog in my backyard
Panting as I run so hard
To hunt the squirrels for my meal...
Just then the puma gives a squeal!
Dropping down from limb above
A momentary thought of love
But then it runs straight through the door
Into the kitchen, round the floor
It tries to tackle my small kid
Blue heeler helps me - am I him?
Who is who and is there blood?
The terror creeping in a flood
Of sweat from Influenza B
Yes: I'm my dog and he is me!

[Phoebe]

What crap is this?
I cannot breathe
I can't​ even attempt to read
The second Harry Potter book
To kids.
A crackling noise runs round my ribs
As mucus trickles round inside
Upon me pup attempts to ride
Someone go walking with this mutt!
No one will bring a seven up.

[Stan]

Go to a doctor. Crackles is a strong symptom of pneumonia, though often it can be heard only with a stethoscope. You might need antibiotics.

[Phoebe]

I have seen the doctor fair
She looks like me with different hair
Brown eyes, less fat - what's the point?
The point is I went to her joint
Gave my blood in two small tubes
And was told to eat less foods
With lots more iron, maybe steak,
Thus I will not have to take
Whole days off work to menstruate
Since getting old is fucking great
Then she gave me tamiflu
Because my fever's through the roof
Yeah I made those two words rhyme
I beat computer chess three times
With special powers granted me
When I am sick and cannot breathe

[Phoebe]

In silly verse I dream when sick
With fever high and mucus thick
Trapped in the bed I realize
That getting old is no great prize
Someday I'll lay here struggling
To turn about or go fetch things
Like plain white toast and honeyed tea
But nursing aides will ignore me
No offense to nurses fine
One hears about them all the time
Yet bad experience abounds
Prompting the weight of normal rounds
Of life that make me work too much
Preventing time with others such
As mom and dad and auntie B
They're surely better off with me
But though I trust my husband fair
I made a promise to grandmere
Yes I can throw in French words too
In rhymes that already abuse
The ancient Muses and their gifts
To her I promised work and thrift
With bank accounts all of my own
And my last name full on my home
How could I be dependent now
On reaping what I did not plow
My metaphors are fucking dumb
Too bad, I'm typing with one thumb
I'd hate to teach my kids to cease
Their work so young and not increase
Their powers, knowledge, and good deeds
It's awfully hard when someone needs
Your help and you know you could best
Provide it back inside your nest
Now I'll try to go to sleep
Although my lungs attempt to leap
From out my chest onto the bed
And pain infects each inch of head

[Phoebe]

Computer app, we cannot play
Bridge when you bid this rotten way
Increasing everything to three
No Trump despite low bids from me
Normally I can't recall
Who played what or how suits fall
But now that fever grips my brain
It sees all patterns and complains
About your "hints" and your whole goal
To play trumps though singles we hold

[Phoebe]

Mother dear I prithee tell
What on earth's that awful smell?
Gassy has become the dog
Fills the room with putrid fog
Silver linings, thank the gods,
Nostrils both are fully clogged!

As the eventide doth fall
Feet feel distant, cute, and small
(Oxford comma, for the win)
Psychotropic medicine
Puzzles ox who's fallen low
Time skips by too fast, too slow

Daytime brought ox energies
Dishes, cooking, and laundries
Were done (Oxford comma 2!)
Then familiar fever grew
Behind eyes a boiling wall
Cranford has me full in thrall

Children try to bathe the pup
Hoarse, I cry NO! Can't get up
If I have to rise from bed
Stumbling like the walking dead
To protect the bathroom floor
Bedtime's now forever more

[Phoebe]

I've been sick now o'er a week
With cough so bad I cannot speak
And truly should not work at all
Yet if I stop the world will fall
Apart with nothing getting done
The consequence shall be no fun
Diligently then I sit
Up working on these piles of shit
Soon I'll have to do the dishes
Pointlessly the wild dog wishes
I would trot him round the block
No! says master, Mr. Clock
He cheats and lies as we get old
Sucking up hours that we told
Ourselves we'd have to do these things
Please don't answer, when phone rings!

[Phoebe]

Such weird dreams lately, sometimes with minimal sleep and sometimes with catchup sleep. In one, I dreamed I was at some work function and didn't really want to eat anything but was being encouraged to do so anyway. Acquiescing, I grabbed some kind of coffee cake and immediately realized I was having a severe allergic reaction to it. This was one of those "total realism in the moment" dreams, so I have to wonder what kind of totally parched mouth or other physical discomfort I was having at the time during sleep, but anyway, I dreamed I had to get an epipen and actually jam it into my own leg, which I have never had to do although I have certainly had it jammed in FOR me by others. Sucks either way, I suppose. I was relieved to find myself capable of jamming it in there successfully given the urgency of the reaction, and was wondering what I should do next when I woke up. I realized, however, this is a dream not about allergies but about FOOD. Mindless eating --> DEATH! Luckily, I still have some means of controlling the outcome. But for how long? Before... mindless eating --> DEATH?! Ugh middle age.

[Phoebe]

I think I dreamed, or given how realistic it was, might still be dreaming, that all the blood suddenly drained from my body and my heart stopped and every other portion fell away from its brothers at the joint - a lower jaw dropped into the lap with a plop, first to fall. Then fingertips, a hand, forearm. The upper legs stayed frozen in place as everything else collapsed, since I thought I was sitting upright, though not for long, as the connections between vertebrae melted away and spinal parts flew off side to side. Slowly, very slowly, the head rolled down the lumpy torso and came to rest by the feet, where it stayed until I finally snapped back awake.

[Eliahad]

Phoebe: AHHHHHHHHHHH!

I only dreamt something tame, like they commercialized the zombie apocalypse. Like, one of my friends was renting an armored vehicle for us to escape in. Ammo was 'x' dollars. I never did get a look at the price. It was weiiiiird.

[Phoebe]

I dreamed that an elephant small enough to fit through my bedroom door brought me an ice water, put me via elephant trunk in the warm bathtub, and somehow (magic) rubbed my foot. I was awake though. Must prepare Easter Rabbit poo. Cannot get up from warm couch. Ughhhh.

[Phoebe]

Oh My God. You know, when you get old things start to go poorly. You decide to wear a device called a "breathing strip" that essentially turns your nose into a small pig snout. Then maybe your anemic blood is oxygenated for a change, and you dream things. You watched a movie about orcas and stuff. The boy in the movie grows old and you know him somehow, maybe through work. You exchange emails. Under the current terms of our agreement, I make no comment, says your email. Unable to forge a contract with better terms, this person visits you at home. You decide to leave so the two of you can talk contracts above the din, but your self driving car (we all have them now, alas) runs into a snafu at the first major stoplight. Group malfunction. The former orca boy/current man, being inexplicably handy with computer-controlled cars, fixes it and the car slips away from the rest. You want to know how he fixed it. Suddenly the contract matters less. You fling the current version out the car window and laugh. You're back in your hometown. You know where you are but not where today's restaurants are. But you find one! You go to a gas station/Mexican grocery; it turns out to have a hibachi. You eat tofu stir fry. A conversation ensues; you decide to leave your boyfriend, a guy named Kurt you knew only briefly in college and neither dated nor wanted to. As in real life, you never see nor talk to Kurt anymore, so breaking up with him should be painless for all concerned. Relieved, you write Kurt a goodbye note. When you're done, the orca boy has turned back into a boy. You take him to the bus stop, from whence he will return to the orcas of Patagonia. On your way home, you stop by the offices of the local newspaper, where you have a meeting with the editor. Dictator style, you make an agreement about how your press coverage is going to work. Why do you need press coverage? Your job is important in some way. ???