Today is the first morning in three days that I woke up and did not feel like a hag. I'm pretty sure I still look like one, though.
Keith, on the other hand, is looking mouth wateringly attractive to me lately. It's a good thing he doesn't mind kissing me even when I'm all sniffly. After all, he's the one that gave me the cold in the first place. I surely can't give it back to him... can I?
I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamed I was in charge of a whole group of children on a trip, with one or two other adults to help out.
It was difficult at first, because the children were argumentative and insecure; they kept picking on one another. But I kept spending time with them and talking with them, and their insecurities started to fall away. I started to really like who they were as people; I enjoyed their personalities. I thought of them as mine.
Then we were at this truck stop. As I was watching, I saw a sixteen wheeler lose control on the highway and jack knife into the parking lot, right where the children were. For a moment, the cab of the truck was hung on a electric pole, preventing the children from being crushed.
I went racing into the tangled mess, screaming, "Get the children, get the children," but as soon as I did, the cab slid loose of the pole and the entire truck swung down on me. I tried to scramble out of the way, but I was being crushed to death.
What was worse was my knowledge of the fact that all the children were being crushed to death as well, right below me; I couldn't see them, they were inside the truck that was being compressed by the other one. It was so indescribably awful to know that they were all dying, so close to me and yet I couldn't do a thing about it, or speak to them, or reach them.
I wonder if this dream is about my fears that I will never have biological children, or if the children are just symbolic, and the dream is about my fears that my hopes for my writing will all be crushed.
But that wasn't the end of the dream. The dream went on, almost as though the crash had never happened.
I was in the building of the truck stop, looking for a bathroom. In the main room with the snacks and the benches for eating the greasy food was a stall, but it was for showering, not for a toilet.
It was right out in the open and I thought, wow, who would use that? I felt curious, so I went in and I found that there were panels that slid closed, making it a very modest, but very tight little space. I thought, this is cool. I would love a shower after these days of being on the road.
Then I realized I still had on all my clothes, and then I realized I didn't know how to get out, so I rapped on the wall and the attendant opened the door. She said I could put my clothes in the dryer so they could be freshened up while I showered.
I thought that was a great idea, so I took of my jeans and sweater right out in the open, intending to shower in my underwear. I felt no shame or embarrassment about doing this. In fact, the whole tenor of this part of the dream was of cheerful practicality and curiosity.
What could that mean? It's so interesting that instead of a toilet, which in my dreams are usual filthy, out in the open and symbolic of sexual abuse, I found a shower, which is where a person gets cleaned and refreshed, and that the shower was a safe and interesting place to be, and that I felt no shame in taking off my outer clothing.
I felt powerful and in control, and capable of making decisions. Also, the children were still alive, and in the parking lot, being looked after by another adult that I trusted and was fond of while I was inside the building.
I wonder why I had these two dreams back to back like that?
I looked up motorway, it says it can symbolize a major direction and quick route to where you want to go in life. A child in a dream can stand for feelings of growth or vulnerability. Washing can indicate getting rid of unwanted feelings such as self doubt or despair.
Sooo... I guess that's pretty obvious then. I guess my hopes and fears for my writing are affecting me at a far deeper level than even I would have guessed, and yet, they were expressed and resolved within the same dream sequence.
I am writing more slowly lately. It's because I'm near the end of this story. There are only a few more scenes to write out, including the linchpin scene. And, more than with any other story I've yet written, I don't want this one to end. I don't want to leave this world. So I'm extending it out deliberately by pacing myself.
Also, it's proving difficult trying to move Gilly through adolescence. Not surprising, considering that she reflects my own journey, which was torturous. Writing it is like one step forward, two steps back.
I did hear back from Dad's friend; he said my use of language was enviable, particulary my descriptive gift. He's going to read through my stuff again and then give me more detailed feeback. Which is very kind of him; I gather from Dad that he is a busy guy.
