all i want is food and creative love...
ambience courtesy of Rusted Root, in the CD player right now.
you know, the brain is an amazing, complicated, frustrating, fascinating beast. it comes up with the oddest things at the worst times. witness the recent episode with the gremlins.
the gremlins came up again the other night. this time, tho, i knew what they were, and shut them off. unfortunately, this involved me snapping at someone. fortunately (because there are always two sides to a thing) i had the chance to talk to him today. i felt i owed him an explanation. because, really, just announcing point blank that You Can't Say That doesn't really give the other person much to work with. he was very funny and understanding, and had me giggling all afternoon, because all i could hear was him saying 'well, at least i didn't say "who's your daddy?" and spank you.' *giggle* oh, that would have been *very* interesting.
the other odd thing The Brain came up with was a fairly disturbing dream this morning. and this one may be a good thing at the right time. i'm dogsitting again, and had to work late last night (didn't get home until nearly 1), plus it's hot. so - odd setting, dogs having doggy dreams, bone deep tired, and hot. made for very fitful sleep. can't remember if i had this dream before or after i walked the doggies this morning; might have been after, as i tried to go back to sleep with mixed results.
in this dream, i was trying to keep two people i knew from being executed. they had been wrongly sentenced to death, and were set for lethal injection, both on the same day, around dinner time. i did everything i could to keep it from happening. part of it was trying to hunt down the people who could make a difference. this involved pedalling around on a bike, with some kids i didn't know but should have, thru neighborhoods that looked sort of like ones i knew growing up. i remember seeing a lot of houses that looked sort of familiar but were grossly oversized, like they'd taken architectural steroids. and they weren't really homes anymore, but some sort of businesses, like hotels, or flower shops.
i don't exactly remember the segue, but i ended up in my grandparent's old neighborhood, and the city hall was where their house used to be. but it all looked different; the hills were bigger, and there were more roads. i still knew it was their neighborhood - you know how things look different in dreams, but you know what they're supposed to be? like that. so, still pedalling around, trying to fix things, and somehow my brother and a friend (of his, i think) ended up in the picture. they went into town hall with me.
i was standing in the spartan, fluorescently white lobby there, crying and talking thru the glass to the person in the ticket window, trying to get them to call off the executions. nothing was working, and my brother said he had to go move the car. the ticket window person wanted me to stay and watch my friends die, and i couldn't do it. i couldn't do it. i ran out of there, crying and looking for my brother, who wasn't there. i paced around, weeping and hoping for him to show up, for about 20 minutes (not dream time 20 minutes, but that's what it was supposed to be). when i finally figured out that he had abandoned me, i started walking; if i didn't leave, Bad Things were going to happen to me because i'd tried to save my friends.
somehow, i walked around the corner to where a house i actually know used to be. and it still looked sort of like that house. but when i walked thru the piney glen and into the house, it turned out to be Fenway Park. go figure.
turned out i was just in time for batting practice. there were all sorts of girls squealing around My Boys (as i pretentiously refer to the Sox). and somehow, the crowd parted like the Red Sea before me. next thing i know, Nomar Garciaparra is kneeling in front of me, saying he needs my phone number, and then wrestling me to the ground like a puppy. (i'm pretty sure that last bit came from the fact that King was having puppy dreams next to me. but who knows?)
needless to say, i woke up a little disconcerted. and it's so frustrating to try writing that dream out, because there's so much i can't explain; if you don't know the places i grew up, i can't really explain what it used to look like and what i saw in my head this morning. gah... the travails of being a writer manquè, eh?
anyway, i worried that one over for a bit, like a puppy with a bone. and i finally realized that i had dreamed my love life for the last six months. really and truly. i've watched two people do immeasurable harm to themselves, and been a helpless bystander. and i've had someone walk into my life out of the blue. the brother thing... i didn't quite get that until i was talking with sonia, who pointed out quite correctly that my family is a wonderful grounding presence in my life, and i haven't really been able to talk to them about all this. it's not being abandoned, exactly, but certainly the emotional grounding hasn't been available for a variety of reasons.
so there you go. lack of sleep and other factors allowed my brain to play out my love life in a wonderfully twisted way. don't you just love what the brain is capable of? 'i just washed my brain, and i can't do a *thing* with it...'
the upside of all that craziness is that it allows me a way to put things into perspective, and keep moving. maybe it's what i needed. maybe The Brain knew that. or maybe i'm just trying to rationalize the whole thing. i think not, tho. all the stuff that's happened in my life needed some sort of framework. lethal injections and the Red Sox are an odd way to find it, but there you go.