The last couple of weeks, I have been reading "The Game of Thrones". I am enjoying it quite a bit, though progress is slow since I am a student and full-time teacher who is also trying to have a social life. Over spring break, I managed to get a couple hundred pages under my belt, while stopping every once and a while to watch bits of the first season of the HBO series with Mr. Sturm. We also cooked, ate food, and played games, etc., so don't worry that all I did over spring break was Game of Thrones related.
A couple of nights ago, I had an interesting, surprising dream. As it turns out, I was madly in love with Tyrion Lannister, "the imp". In my dream, it was not the Tyrion from the HBO series, but rather the Tyrion I had created in my head before watching any of the series while reading the book.
Tyrion and I were madly in love, though our love was forbidden, and just plain dangerous, for many reasons. First off, he is a Lannister, and clearly as a daughter of a much lesser lord, I would not do. Also, I was betrothed to someone else - a knight in fact, who had neither a face nor a name that I can remember. Perhaps most importantly of all, however, Tyrion was a wanted man by Catelyn Stark and her whole clan, so I spent a good deal of the dream trying to hide and help protect my beloved Tyrion Lannister.
Needless to say, I considered taking a break from the book after this dream. While I am not reading nearly at the rate as over spring break, I have decided to continue. If I am having weird dreams, might as well continue reading and get them all out there. It is interesting that my dream-boyfriend from the book, however, would be Tyrion. Perhaps it is because of his wit, the fact that I love an underdog, and I often feel like he is a good person who is just trying to get along in a swamp of politics, dealing with the loyalty of his disaster of a family.
Ah well.
Showing posts with label strange dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label strange dreams. Show all posts
Monday, April 16, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
My Dream Analysis
Because I have pretty vivid dreams which I tend to remember upon re-entering the conscious "real" world, and because I often share these dreams with Mr. Sturm, he decided to help me interpret these nighttime visions and insights. For Valentine's Day, Mr. Sturm bought me "The Dream Dictionary From A to Z: The ultimate a-z to interpret the secrets of your dreams" by Theresa Cheung.
Based on my dream from this morning, I had to look up several different categories including:
Cats
Parents
Home
Storm
Vegetables
Skyscraper
Death/Killing/Assassination
Now, I am not going to detail what happened in the dream. You just get the list of what I looked up, and the following paragraphs concerning the dictionary's analysis of my dream. Using this information, you will see that clearly I am insane and in need of psychological help, but you can also use this as an imagination exercise where you try to decide what actually happened in my dream.
Analysis:
I feel like I need to protect and nurture my feminine sexuality, as well as creativity and power. Somehow, I feel that this is threatened and I must hide and protect it. I seek to gain independence from internalized values, and I feel that authority figures are crushing my creativity and freedom. I worry that my actions have negative consequences on others. I am aware of different facets of my personality and am comfortable exploring and moving from one part of myself to another. Either I feel nourished and a sense of fertility, or I need more vitamins in my diet and my body is begging me to eat more vegetables. Also, there is indication that I have deep, unresolved emotional and psychological health in my waking life.
Unsurprisingly, folks, it turns out I might be crazy.
Based on my dream from this morning, I had to look up several different categories including:
Cats
Parents
Home
Storm
Vegetables
Skyscraper
Death/Killing/Assassination
Now, I am not going to detail what happened in the dream. You just get the list of what I looked up, and the following paragraphs concerning the dictionary's analysis of my dream. Using this information, you will see that clearly I am insane and in need of psychological help, but you can also use this as an imagination exercise where you try to decide what actually happened in my dream.
Analysis:
I feel like I need to protect and nurture my feminine sexuality, as well as creativity and power. Somehow, I feel that this is threatened and I must hide and protect it. I seek to gain independence from internalized values, and I feel that authority figures are crushing my creativity and freedom. I worry that my actions have negative consequences on others. I am aware of different facets of my personality and am comfortable exploring and moving from one part of myself to another. Either I feel nourished and a sense of fertility, or I need more vitamins in my diet and my body is begging me to eat more vegetables. Also, there is indication that I have deep, unresolved emotional and psychological health in my waking life.
Unsurprisingly, folks, it turns out I might be crazy.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
My Attempt to Move into a Super Secret Jungle Apartment to Save my Loved Ones
Generally speaking, I am a fairly light sleeper, and I wake up frequently throughout the night. Part of this is because for some reason I am not a very well made human being, and if I stay in one position too long, those muscles start to hurt. This means I wake up pretty frequently during the night, although usually just to roll over or curl up or something. Another reason I wake up a lot is that I have very vivid, intense dreams with complicated but very clear plot lines.
You may remember me writing about the dream where I invented Birth Control Cookies. (I still think that would be a good idea.)
Last night I had a very involved dream about how I was trying to stage my own death. Naturally, SpongeBob Squarepants made an appearance.
The dream started with me living at home with my parents again because I am out of a job and can no longer afford my apartment. The house is the same, except it is much bigger and the trees around the house are less like Minnesotan foliage and more like an enormous, wild jungle complete with vines and noisy birds squawking all the time. My bedroom is crammed full of kitchen items, my piano, cat toys, etc. and there are even things hanging from the ceiling and clinking together in the breeze.
For whatever reason, it became apparent to me that my life and the lives of all the people I love were in eminent danger. The bad guys wanted me dead, and they were going to stop at nothing to make it happen. They're plan was clear to me. They were going to start torturing and killing off my loved ones in an effort to get to me, then they were going to kill me by slicing me up into little pieces.
Naturally, I did not want this to happen. In an attempt to save my life and everyone else's lives, I started building a super-secret-can't-even-be-found-by-someone-with-Hollywood-movie-versions-of-government-equipment home out in the jungle. Things were going quite well, although I was grief stricken that I would have to leave everyone and my entire life behind in order to live a life of solitude in my jungle apartment that I had built in about two days. Again, naturally, I would also stage my own death by spreading blood all over a knife and a wall in my bedroom so that loved ones would think I was dead, peg me as a lost cause, mourn, maybe have a funeral, but ultimately be safe from harm.
I began making trips from my bedroom at my parents' house out to my luxury jungle apartment, bringing things little by little. Naturally, I had to be very sneaky about it, and only move things in the dead of night or when everyone was at work. If my friends or family got wise of my plan, they might try to stop me and stand up to the bad guys, or if they knew where I was, the bad guys would get it out of them and then kill them. For some reason, as long as everyone I knew stayed ignorant of my whereabouts, these particular bad guys were just going to leave them alone.
Anyway, so I am bringing my belongings out to my apartment little by little, and on my way back to my parents' house to get the last batch of supplies, I tripped on a rock, got tangled in a vine, and fell head-first onto another rock. When my head hit the second rock, it sliced off a huge piece of the skin on the right side of my head. The pain was excruciating. The skin was still attached, but barely, and blood was oozing out at an alarming rate.
Irregardless of this devastating wound, I had a job to do. I began to wobble around and try to make my way out of the jungle. Eventually, I made it to the driveway, but I was so disoriented from pain and blood loss that I forgot where I was going and started wandering down the driveway towards the street.
Once I reached the end of the driveway, I met a group of children waiting for the school bus. They smiled and waved at me until I got closer, then they all started screaming at me to get away. This was probably due to the massive head wound and the expression on my face. To make matters worse, some hawks and crows started screeching and diving down towards me in an attempt to pick off the flesh hanging from my skull. This upset the children even more, and when the bus driver arrived to pick them up, he frowned and chastised me for scaring the children.
Confused and a little lost, I still knew I had some sort of important deadline to meet. Hoping to jog my memory, I began walking down the bike path. I met some of my neighbors riding horses, but all they could tell me was that maybe I was supposed to be helping another neighbor build a gate to prevent intruders from going up their driveway. This meant nothing to me, so I kept walking. Eventually I came to the unfinished gate at the neighbor's house, and everything came flooding back to me.
I began hobbling back through the jungle, trying desperately to take the most efficient route back to my parents' house to get some food and get back to my jungle apartment before my friends showed up. At this point, I am also limping because I got tangled up in another vine, and I've broken my glasses from walking into a tree trunk, so I'm looking pretty forlorn. I manage to make it back to the house, grab the bag of food, and head out to the jungle.
Unfortunately, the bad guys have arrived. They are not happy, and they shoot me in the right arm, so now I'm gushing blood from my arm and have lost the ability to use it in any way. I dropped the bag of groceries and ran as fast as I could towards the jungle. I knew if I could make it in, I would have a bit of an advantage since I was familiar with the turf, and the bad guys weren't.
Luckily, I made it into the jungle without getting shot again. Unfortunately, my friends are sitting at a table made out of a giant tree stump sitting on stools made out of smaller tree stumps. They invite me to come play a game with them. I knew I couldn't refuse. If I refused, they'd instantly know what was happening, and all of my work would have been for naught and the bad guys would come and kill us all. So, I did what any person in my shoes would do, which is sit down on a tree stump to play SpongeBob Squarepants war.
Completely oblivious to my many severe injuries, my friends dealt the cards. The cards had pictures of SpongeBob characters on them, but the characters were dressed in renaissance clothing. Each card had only one character on it, but the image could be repeated so there were varying numbers of images on each card. Also, in each card, the color of the clothing on the character was different.
Try as I might, I could not figure out the game. I kept losing, and the blood from my head wound kept getting in my eyes and making it difficult for me to react to some plays. Unfortunately, I would not be able to safely leave this stump table until I won a round. Not knowing the rules of the game, and having all my friends refuse to explain them to me, I was at a serious disadvantage. The panic set in as I could hear the bad guys making their way towards us through the think jungle plant life. A monkey jumped on the table and stole my card that had three Patricks wearing purple renaissance outfits.
And then I woke up. I don't think I have ever had a dream involving so much blood before. I think if I had slept another couple of minutes, one of my legs would have been lopped off or something, and I would have been hopping through the jungle with a bleeding stump-of-a-leg.
I'm sure a dream analyst or psychoanalyst or someone would have a hayday with my dreams. It is probably all about my current professional insecurities and uncertainties, but it is more interesting to not think about it that way too much and to approach the dream as a completely separate thing unto itself. It is like its own little story.
It probably means I am insane. Remember how I said I'm getting weirder all the time? Remember when I finally came to the conclusion that I am definitely an acquired taste? Maybe this is the crazy just getting crazier.
And this dream really wasn't as amusing or useful as the Birth Control Cookie dream.
You may remember me writing about the dream where I invented Birth Control Cookies. (I still think that would be a good idea.)
Last night I had a very involved dream about how I was trying to stage my own death. Naturally, SpongeBob Squarepants made an appearance.
The dream started with me living at home with my parents again because I am out of a job and can no longer afford my apartment. The house is the same, except it is much bigger and the trees around the house are less like Minnesotan foliage and more like an enormous, wild jungle complete with vines and noisy birds squawking all the time. My bedroom is crammed full of kitchen items, my piano, cat toys, etc. and there are even things hanging from the ceiling and clinking together in the breeze.
For whatever reason, it became apparent to me that my life and the lives of all the people I love were in eminent danger. The bad guys wanted me dead, and they were going to stop at nothing to make it happen. They're plan was clear to me. They were going to start torturing and killing off my loved ones in an effort to get to me, then they were going to kill me by slicing me up into little pieces.
Naturally, I did not want this to happen. In an attempt to save my life and everyone else's lives, I started building a super-secret-can't-even-be-found-by-someone-with-Hollywood-movie-versions-of-government-equipment home out in the jungle. Things were going quite well, although I was grief stricken that I would have to leave everyone and my entire life behind in order to live a life of solitude in my jungle apartment that I had built in about two days. Again, naturally, I would also stage my own death by spreading blood all over a knife and a wall in my bedroom so that loved ones would think I was dead, peg me as a lost cause, mourn, maybe have a funeral, but ultimately be safe from harm.
I began making trips from my bedroom at my parents' house out to my luxury jungle apartment, bringing things little by little. Naturally, I had to be very sneaky about it, and only move things in the dead of night or when everyone was at work. If my friends or family got wise of my plan, they might try to stop me and stand up to the bad guys, or if they knew where I was, the bad guys would get it out of them and then kill them. For some reason, as long as everyone I knew stayed ignorant of my whereabouts, these particular bad guys were just going to leave them alone.
Anyway, so I am bringing my belongings out to my apartment little by little, and on my way back to my parents' house to get the last batch of supplies, I tripped on a rock, got tangled in a vine, and fell head-first onto another rock. When my head hit the second rock, it sliced off a huge piece of the skin on the right side of my head. The pain was excruciating. The skin was still attached, but barely, and blood was oozing out at an alarming rate.
Irregardless of this devastating wound, I had a job to do. I began to wobble around and try to make my way out of the jungle. Eventually, I made it to the driveway, but I was so disoriented from pain and blood loss that I forgot where I was going and started wandering down the driveway towards the street.
Once I reached the end of the driveway, I met a group of children waiting for the school bus. They smiled and waved at me until I got closer, then they all started screaming at me to get away. This was probably due to the massive head wound and the expression on my face. To make matters worse, some hawks and crows started screeching and diving down towards me in an attempt to pick off the flesh hanging from my skull. This upset the children even more, and when the bus driver arrived to pick them up, he frowned and chastised me for scaring the children.
Confused and a little lost, I still knew I had some sort of important deadline to meet. Hoping to jog my memory, I began walking down the bike path. I met some of my neighbors riding horses, but all they could tell me was that maybe I was supposed to be helping another neighbor build a gate to prevent intruders from going up their driveway. This meant nothing to me, so I kept walking. Eventually I came to the unfinished gate at the neighbor's house, and everything came flooding back to me.
I began hobbling back through the jungle, trying desperately to take the most efficient route back to my parents' house to get some food and get back to my jungle apartment before my friends showed up. At this point, I am also limping because I got tangled up in another vine, and I've broken my glasses from walking into a tree trunk, so I'm looking pretty forlorn. I manage to make it back to the house, grab the bag of food, and head out to the jungle.
Unfortunately, the bad guys have arrived. They are not happy, and they shoot me in the right arm, so now I'm gushing blood from my arm and have lost the ability to use it in any way. I dropped the bag of groceries and ran as fast as I could towards the jungle. I knew if I could make it in, I would have a bit of an advantage since I was familiar with the turf, and the bad guys weren't.
Luckily, I made it into the jungle without getting shot again. Unfortunately, my friends are sitting at a table made out of a giant tree stump sitting on stools made out of smaller tree stumps. They invite me to come play a game with them. I knew I couldn't refuse. If I refused, they'd instantly know what was happening, and all of my work would have been for naught and the bad guys would come and kill us all. So, I did what any person in my shoes would do, which is sit down on a tree stump to play SpongeBob Squarepants war.
Completely oblivious to my many severe injuries, my friends dealt the cards. The cards had pictures of SpongeBob characters on them, but the characters were dressed in renaissance clothing. Each card had only one character on it, but the image could be repeated so there were varying numbers of images on each card. Also, in each card, the color of the clothing on the character was different.
Try as I might, I could not figure out the game. I kept losing, and the blood from my head wound kept getting in my eyes and making it difficult for me to react to some plays. Unfortunately, I would not be able to safely leave this stump table until I won a round. Not knowing the rules of the game, and having all my friends refuse to explain them to me, I was at a serious disadvantage. The panic set in as I could hear the bad guys making their way towards us through the think jungle plant life. A monkey jumped on the table and stole my card that had three Patricks wearing purple renaissance outfits.
And then I woke up. I don't think I have ever had a dream involving so much blood before. I think if I had slept another couple of minutes, one of my legs would have been lopped off or something, and I would have been hopping through the jungle with a bleeding stump-of-a-leg.
I'm sure a dream analyst or psychoanalyst or someone would have a hayday with my dreams. It is probably all about my current professional insecurities and uncertainties, but it is more interesting to not think about it that way too much and to approach the dream as a completely separate thing unto itself. It is like its own little story.
It probably means I am insane. Remember how I said I'm getting weirder all the time? Remember when I finally came to the conclusion that I am definitely an acquired taste? Maybe this is the crazy just getting crazier.
And this dream really wasn't as amusing or useful as the Birth Control Cookie dream.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Birth Control Cookies
Sometimes I wonder if I need extreme psychotherapy because my dreams are so bizarre. Usually with an actual plot line and complicated twists and turns, my dreams often leave me in a state of confusion for at least the first part of my day while drinking my tea, getting dressed, and driving to work.
Last night I had a dream where I was in some sort of witch and wizardry school and had found the secret to making the best chocolate chip birth control cookies. Most of the dream was me trying desperately to hide the recipe and misleading others about how I actually made these super chocolate chip birth control cookies because obviously in the wrong hands these cookies could be a dangerous weapon.
One of my Baking and Witchcraft teachers had already invented the birth control cookie and was making quite a bit of money off of it. The problem was that it was only 80% effective, and since the witch and wizard community had apparently never heard of the pill or condoms, they were relatively pleased with this particular percentage. I, on the other hand, had grown up in the real world and knew that we could do better. With only 80% effectiveness, there was still that 20% chance there would be a new, unplanned witchling or baby wizard. So naturally I thought it my duty, even if only a student witch, to go out and make a more effective birth control cookie.
I'm a bit hazy on the details here, but I succeeded. I invented some sort of spell to cast on the vanilla that I put in the cookies, rendering the consumer infertile for exactly 24 hours after ingestion. My chocolate chip birth control cookies were better than my teacher's for a variety of reasons.
1. They worked for exactly 24 hours, and after that you went back to being crazy fertile. (Everyone knows that witches and wizards are insanely fertile. They can get knocked up at the drop of a hat!)
2. Unlike my teacher's 80% effective cookies, mine were 99.9% effective.
3. My cookies worked on male and females, so it didn't matter who ate the cookie.
4. I put twice as many chocolate chips in my cookies.
Now, realizing that I had a superior product, but that my spell could be detrimental to our witch and wizard society if it fell into the wrong hands, I told my teacher that my secret was using twice the amount of chocolate chips and adding a teaspoon of apricot jam to the cookie dough. My teacher must have been a dolt or had apricot jam for her brains, because she happily believed me and even insisted that scientifically, that made sense.
But an evil witch was on to me. She wanted to take my spell and use it to curse all of the vanilla in all of the Hy-Vee's across the land. But unlike mine, her spell wouldn't last for only 24 hours. This evil witch was hoping to make all the witches and wizards she didn't care for completely infertile for all of eternity! Dun-Dun- DUN! Then, she was going to only let her friends and co-conspirators procreate, and soon her bloodline would rule the world!
Think of that power! You could get into a fight with someone, then give them a cookie and pretend you were making up. But soon they would realize that it was a super-chocolate-chip-birth-control-cookie (Let's call it an "infertilzing cookie"), and your bloodline would soon be wiped off the face of the planet!
For this reason, to protect all of witch and wizardom while still providing reasonable birth control to the population, I shared my secret with no one. I made all the cookies myself and had my teacher work the store front, since I was so tired from all that sneaking around and baking. It was a very popular product!
That evil witch was always following me around Hy-Vee, thinking she was so sneaky hiding behind the displays of Ho-Hos and tomato sauce, but I knew she was there. The stress of this life and the burden it placed on me was beginning to be a bit much. The evil witch was spreading rumors and doubt that it was really the extra chocolate chips and apricot jam that was making the cookies successful. She told everyone I had invented a new spell and was holding out on everyone! Of course she was right, but I was really trying to protect the population here.
Then one day, the evil witch cornered me in the back of the baking good aisle at the Rochester South Hy-Vee, and she was making menacing comments, threatening to kill me should I not share my secret with her. Trapped, I didn't know what to do!
Then I woke up because my cat decided to lay down on my face. It is very hard to breath with a cat on your face, even if that cat doesn't have much fur.
Even though it was a ridiculous dream, I don't think that a chocolate chip birth control cookie is that bad of an idea. People might remember better if it was in the form of a cookie. And you could have it as dessert with lunch, and no one would even know! Or you could have a cookie for breakfast every morning. How could that be bad?
Last night I had a dream where I was in some sort of witch and wizardry school and had found the secret to making the best chocolate chip birth control cookies. Most of the dream was me trying desperately to hide the recipe and misleading others about how I actually made these super chocolate chip birth control cookies because obviously in the wrong hands these cookies could be a dangerous weapon.
One of my Baking and Witchcraft teachers had already invented the birth control cookie and was making quite a bit of money off of it. The problem was that it was only 80% effective, and since the witch and wizard community had apparently never heard of the pill or condoms, they were relatively pleased with this particular percentage. I, on the other hand, had grown up in the real world and knew that we could do better. With only 80% effectiveness, there was still that 20% chance there would be a new, unplanned witchling or baby wizard. So naturally I thought it my duty, even if only a student witch, to go out and make a more effective birth control cookie.
I'm a bit hazy on the details here, but I succeeded. I invented some sort of spell to cast on the vanilla that I put in the cookies, rendering the consumer infertile for exactly 24 hours after ingestion. My chocolate chip birth control cookies were better than my teacher's for a variety of reasons.
1. They worked for exactly 24 hours, and after that you went back to being crazy fertile. (Everyone knows that witches and wizards are insanely fertile. They can get knocked up at the drop of a hat!)
2. Unlike my teacher's 80% effective cookies, mine were 99.9% effective.
3. My cookies worked on male and females, so it didn't matter who ate the cookie.
4. I put twice as many chocolate chips in my cookies.
Now, realizing that I had a superior product, but that my spell could be detrimental to our witch and wizard society if it fell into the wrong hands, I told my teacher that my secret was using twice the amount of chocolate chips and adding a teaspoon of apricot jam to the cookie dough. My teacher must have been a dolt or had apricot jam for her brains, because she happily believed me and even insisted that scientifically, that made sense.
But an evil witch was on to me. She wanted to take my spell and use it to curse all of the vanilla in all of the Hy-Vee's across the land. But unlike mine, her spell wouldn't last for only 24 hours. This evil witch was hoping to make all the witches and wizards she didn't care for completely infertile for all of eternity! Dun-Dun- DUN! Then, she was going to only let her friends and co-conspirators procreate, and soon her bloodline would rule the world!
Think of that power! You could get into a fight with someone, then give them a cookie and pretend you were making up. But soon they would realize that it was a super-chocolate-chip-birth-control-cookie (Let's call it an "infertilzing cookie"), and your bloodline would soon be wiped off the face of the planet!
For this reason, to protect all of witch and wizardom while still providing reasonable birth control to the population, I shared my secret with no one. I made all the cookies myself and had my teacher work the store front, since I was so tired from all that sneaking around and baking. It was a very popular product!
That evil witch was always following me around Hy-Vee, thinking she was so sneaky hiding behind the displays of Ho-Hos and tomato sauce, but I knew she was there. The stress of this life and the burden it placed on me was beginning to be a bit much. The evil witch was spreading rumors and doubt that it was really the extra chocolate chips and apricot jam that was making the cookies successful. She told everyone I had invented a new spell and was holding out on everyone! Of course she was right, but I was really trying to protect the population here.
Then one day, the evil witch cornered me in the back of the baking good aisle at the Rochester South Hy-Vee, and she was making menacing comments, threatening to kill me should I not share my secret with her. Trapped, I didn't know what to do!
Then I woke up because my cat decided to lay down on my face. It is very hard to breath with a cat on your face, even if that cat doesn't have much fur.
Even though it was a ridiculous dream, I don't think that a chocolate chip birth control cookie is that bad of an idea. People might remember better if it was in the form of a cookie. And you could have it as dessert with lunch, and no one would even know! Or you could have a cookie for breakfast every morning. How could that be bad?
Don't forget to vote on the new survey. Confused? Learn more about the artists here.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
"Random! Ra-ra-random! Free Stylin'!"
I ate a whole box of macaroni and cheese for dinner today! I haven't been able to do that since the days of undergrad. Granted, that wasn't that long ago, but I still feel quite the sense of accomplishment. Should I be eating entire boxes of bright orange noodles by myself? Probably not, but it hasn't killed me yet.
The Christmas decorations are now up in my apartment. I've got the tassles, the few ornaments, the Snoopy on his doghouse, and some candles. When I go visit my folks this weekend, I am going to bring back the little Christmas tree, too, so that will be exciting.
In other, other news, I have mostly effectively insulated one of my draft windows. Hopefully this will help reduce my heating bill. I need to do three more of the windows at least, but it is quite the hullaballoo for me. First, I need to deal with the double sided adhesive. Have you seen me with glue or tape? It almost always sticks to me or ties me up rather than do what I want it to. Then there's the matter of taking the large sheets of plastic and cutting them to the size of the window. Anything bigger than me, and I can't handle it. Plus my lack of fine motor skills makes it hard to cut a straight line. Then, I need to attach that plastic to the double-sided adhesive inside the window, and those of you that know me well know that I can't keep my arms above my head that well. Finally, I have to use the hair dryer to make the plastic shrink and stay. It took me way too long to do just that one window. Maybe I'll do another window tomorrow night, and another on Wednesday. The house will be insulated by the end of December, I'm sure.
Also, last night I had a dream that I knocked out all my front teeth and broke my hip. In this condition, I still had to keep an eye on one of my fourth grade students who isn't allowed to be in the hallway by himself. Then I realized that not only was all of this going on, but I was only 12 years old and in a seaside town that had only coffee shops and bookstores that had coffee inside. I had to hobble and limp from coffee shop to coffee shop, trying to hold the bloody spit in my mouth while coaxing my student to come with me. He kept trying to wander off, and with the broken hips and blood loss, I wasn't really moving that fast. Anyway, I knew I needed a doctor, so I kept going into each of these coffee shops and bookstores looking for a doctor or a phone I could use to call a doctor. In each store I ran into one of my male high school teachers, and they always asked about how I was doing. They never commented on how awful I looked. None of them had phones, either. I ended up taking that student down to the water to feed the ducks. I had a mocha in my hand, but I couldn't drink it.....The end.
So I guess my subconscious is trying to tell me I feel beat up? Your psychoanalysis of my dream is welcomed and will of course be taken seriously.
You should take my tea survey. Now.
The Christmas decorations are now up in my apartment. I've got the tassles, the few ornaments, the Snoopy on his doghouse, and some candles. When I go visit my folks this weekend, I am going to bring back the little Christmas tree, too, so that will be exciting.
In other, other news, I have mostly effectively insulated one of my draft windows. Hopefully this will help reduce my heating bill. I need to do three more of the windows at least, but it is quite the hullaballoo for me. First, I need to deal with the double sided adhesive. Have you seen me with glue or tape? It almost always sticks to me or ties me up rather than do what I want it to. Then there's the matter of taking the large sheets of plastic and cutting them to the size of the window. Anything bigger than me, and I can't handle it. Plus my lack of fine motor skills makes it hard to cut a straight line. Then, I need to attach that plastic to the double-sided adhesive inside the window, and those of you that know me well know that I can't keep my arms above my head that well. Finally, I have to use the hair dryer to make the plastic shrink and stay. It took me way too long to do just that one window. Maybe I'll do another window tomorrow night, and another on Wednesday. The house will be insulated by the end of December, I'm sure.
Also, last night I had a dream that I knocked out all my front teeth and broke my hip. In this condition, I still had to keep an eye on one of my fourth grade students who isn't allowed to be in the hallway by himself. Then I realized that not only was all of this going on, but I was only 12 years old and in a seaside town that had only coffee shops and bookstores that had coffee inside. I had to hobble and limp from coffee shop to coffee shop, trying to hold the bloody spit in my mouth while coaxing my student to come with me. He kept trying to wander off, and with the broken hips and blood loss, I wasn't really moving that fast. Anyway, I knew I needed a doctor, so I kept going into each of these coffee shops and bookstores looking for a doctor or a phone I could use to call a doctor. In each store I ran into one of my male high school teachers, and they always asked about how I was doing. They never commented on how awful I looked. None of them had phones, either. I ended up taking that student down to the water to feed the ducks. I had a mocha in my hand, but I couldn't drink it.....The end.
So I guess my subconscious is trying to tell me I feel beat up? Your psychoanalysis of my dream is welcomed and will of course be taken seriously.
You should take my tea survey. Now.
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