Bad Brains

Apr. 4th, 2014 09:54 am
perzephone: (bad ducky)
Dearest Cousin, please do not invite me to anymore city-wide/all year school reunions. You don't know how much of a Hell I went through in school those two years I lived with you. The assaults, the beatings, the humiliation. Yes, I know it was all before the anti-bullying movement got started, but damn. Someone could have put a stop to it, intervened, something. What made it worse was going to school with black eyes & fat lips from you and never even having to lie about it because no one asked what happened. No one got to hear "I got hit in the face with a softball". And they stuck me in school counseling for anger management issues.

The past is the past, and it should die, burned and forgotten. But somehow, the older I get the more it comes back. Today, the Zoloft isn't helping. Actually, since Rob started looking for property again. All my failings get thrown in my face when he does that. He realized that he'd made an error in judgment, but it was too late, the train wreck had started. And he keeps fucking looking at property. He thinks I don't notice, but I do.

I thought about trying to call a suicide hotline the other night, but that's something I need privacy to do, and that's one thing I never really have. I don't know what I would have said to the other person, or if they could have even done anything to make me feel better. The therapist can't make me feel better, Rob can't make me feel better. No one can make me feel anything. All the affirmations in the world cannot change who I am.

I had an odd dream the other day. I'm reading PIHKAL, so the part of the dream where I ate hallucinogenic mushrooms (that didn't even give me tracers) was probably from that... but the part about going to pick up a body from a funeral home was not. When Rob & I got to the funeral home, the body we were to transport wasn't there. Instead, there were only crumbling caskets holding mummies and skeletons in various states of decay. I bought an unusually lacquered skeleton for $60. Which I think is quite the bargain.
perzephone: (dreams)
Laid down early last night, hoping to be able to get up early & get some stuff done. That didn't go as planned. In the two hours I did sleep, I dreamed.

It was something about my dad, meeting him at the bottom of a hill & walking up it to a town. We used the landscaping on the side of the road to make our ascent. I'm not sure why - I suppose the muddy rivulet full of debris seemed safer than just walking up on the side of the road. It reminded me of the hill that led up to an apartment complex we lived in when I was 6 or 7. Very steep. The real-life hill didn't have any landscaping - if you fell off the side, it would be a painful trip through wild blackberry brambles. Having fallen down that hill, you couldn't fall all the way because at some point, the brambles would just hold you in place, like a large, prickly spiderweb, and none of your friends would want to attempt to retrieve you in case they became ensnared as well.

But anyway, we hiked up this hill to a small, pretty, typical 1980s Washington-state looking town. In the dream, I seemed to be about 20 - 22 years old (and I was black - but that came from me watching Being Human last night - the ghost is black and I looked like her), and I had some idea that I would be able to stay with my dad. I didn't voice those plans though, because as we were hiking & walking around, he was telling me about his girlfriend & how they were moving within the next week or so.

I felt alone & despaired in the dream, wondering how I would be able to get someplace to live, and a car, and learn to drive said car, all in a week or so. Then I started thinking how lonely it would be there since I didn't know anyone other than my dad. I didn't even know my dad's girlfriend. It all felt like disappointed emptiness.

I woke up with that feeling. The sky outside is the same color as the Washington sky in my dream.
perzephone: (dreams)
Yesterday, at some point amid weird sex dreams, I dreamed that I and John Barrowman (Capt. Jack Harkness from Torchwood) were out shopping for postcards. It was like I was his own personal fag-hag for the day. He had a nice car, too - but it was a mess inside. :D I lol'd when I woke up.
perzephone: (dreams)
I've been dreaming a lot lately. Weird disjointed images are all I remember, but they are dreams. They feel 'real', too, not just drug-induced replays of my days at work.

A couple of nights ago, I was on some school campus. I actually dream of being on some kind of campus with some regularity, so it's not new territory. At any rate, for some reason I was running across an outdoor area of the campus, and across an amphitheater-type structure. I don't know if I was running from something or to something... There was a sloping driveway going down past the structure, but I was running across the top. When I reached the back edge of it, I found to my dismay that it was about 2 stories up... and I shot over the top of it, complete with that lurch in my stomach, the brief free-fall sensation, and wham! woke up in one of those colossal all-over spasms.

It felt more like a memory than a dream. I spent a lot of time falling off or being pushed off things like jungle gyms when I was a kid. Usually landed flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me. It's a wonder I didn't break things, but I think landing flat on my back saved my neck a few times.

Last night, I dreamt of a follow-up trip to the gynecologist, where I filled out my own return-to-work slip with all the wrong dates and information, and then apologized to the doctor and asked for him to fill a new one out. I kept writing that I was returning to work on July 21st. That old saw about everything you read being backwards in dreams is not true - everything I read on the little pad was the right way, as was my handwriting - which was much nicer in my dream than in real life. He then gave me some type of inoculation involving a dissolving strip, like those Listerine Breath Strips, only it was more like a long, wide piece of 35mm film, and it tasted horrible. At first he placed it on my tongue & kind of conveyor-belted it into my mouth until I got the clue that I was supposed to eat the whole thing. Which I complained about.

I also dreamed of something else that was the final straw in waking me up. As a result of rosacea & genetics & what not, I've got large pores. I hate them, but I'm kind of stuck with them. It's true of most of my body, including my boobs. At any rate, in my dream, I was cleaning out some of those pores & managed to remove a small maggot & something that looked like a piece of spine or bone of some kind from one of the pores on my boob. It was slightly flexible & soft, and when I dropped it on the ground it sizzled & dissolved, like butter in a hot pan. For some reason there were x-rays of my breasts on my bathroom walls & I could see a similar thing was in the other boob. It was big, though, the size of a wide bolt or something, and I have no idea how I was able to manage to extricate something that size from a pore. My nipple felt strangely unsupported after I did it, too.

That was pretty much the point where my subconscious decided to wake me up, and I decided to stay awake. It's got me kind of paranoid now, like maybe I should try to get a mammogram done or something. Hopefully, that notion will fade because I'd like to wait a couple more years before regularly having to get mah titties squished on an annual basis. What it really means is I probably need to take a break from the gore sites for awhile... they love posting photos of bot fly larva & mango-fly maggots infesting women's breasts... and I keep looking at them, even though I've probably seen enough that there cannot be any new information gleaned from yet more images.
perzephone: (dreams)
I've been using some Delta wave sleep CDs lately, and I have been dreaming. Weird, bizarre, fully articulated dreams, no less.

One at least had some context. Rob's doc is sending him for prostate cancer screening, & the discussion prompted him to tell me if he does show markers for it, he's getting it removed. I feel the same way about breast cancer. Fuck chemo & radiation, just cut them puppies off. They're purely decorative for me, anyway, and if I want big tits back I can get cosmetic surgery. The next day I dreamed I was the recipient of numerous surgeries - kidney, hysterectomy, mastectomy, Lister corn removal... and I still tried to go into work. That's probably the closest thing I've had to a nightmare, but it wasn't scary, just painful and uncomfortable & I was wondering why I was so stupid as to ask for four surgeries at the same time.

The other day I dreamed something about riding a horse to a levee, taking a message to someone. I jumped on the horse's back, & I was wearing a long full skirt, which I actually had to adjust to pull out from under my leg to get better seating. The colors in that dream were vibrant - bay horse, blue skirt, the gunmetal gray Louisiana sky, the cool humidity giving everything a luminous quality.

Earlier this morning, I laid down for a nap prior to going to therapy. I turned on my sleep CD just because. It was a mistake in hindsight because I do notice that it takes me a bit longer to fully wake up, and I'm groggy when I wake up too early when I use the CDs. But in the span of about 2 hours, I dreamed. Something about a bear living on a tiny island, somehow guarding a house on the island. I was visiting someone on the island, in the house - the person kind of reminded me of Fujimoto from Ponyo. It was a Very Big Bear. I could talk to the bear but the bear only responded in one or two-word sentences. For some reason the bear wanted to come with me when I left the island, but the bear had a time limit to return to the island.

Somehow I & the bear ended up at a water park. The bear wanted to go on all the slides but because of its sheer size, it kept breaking things. On the return to the island, we ran into difficulties because it was a Very Big Bear who couldn't swim. The only way to get back to the island was a small ferry, and the ferryman didn't want to take the bear on board because he was afraid the bear would end up swamping the boat. I couldn't rent a different boat because I was almost broke. I couldn't teach the bear to swim because for one, the water was very cold and choppy, and for two - the bear wouldn't even get its feet wet. It just stood on the beach shaking its head.

Strange stuff, but it's nice to dream.

In other news, I've been working on a new embroidery pattern in my head - I just need to spend some time putting it on paper. For now, though, I'm going back to bed since I have to work tonight :P
perzephone: (dreams)
Sometimes it's hard for me to tell if I'm asleep & dreaming, or just laying awake and fantasizing. I think I dreamed today, but it also felt like I was awake.

I was in an occult shop w/my sister Jody. I was there to buy supplies, including a black cat. I found some sort of glass paperweight (it was like a swan or duck or something) with a symbol on the bottom that morphed between an anarchy A and a pentagram. I ended up putting the cat on my shoulder. When I got to the cash register, I was all like, "meh, I think I'm putting this stuff back. I'm not a Wiccan anymore."

Then I was in a comic book shop, running into co-workers from both the hotel & the DA's office. Somehow one of the DA secretaries was also the coven secretary (which must have been why I was buying witchcraft supplies) & I said something like, "Ahhh, that explains it", not so much in the vein of explaining the person the woman was at the DA's office, but more along explaining why I was no longer a Wiccan & why I was reticent about joining the coven.
perzephone: (dreams)
I've noticed something. All the shamanic books I've read over the past couple of years seem to suffer from the same malady as the books on witchcraft, Wicca & paganism in general. They never really get past the 101 material. I'm also seeing the same group of authors regurgitate material into each other's books as 'guest writers' or 'co-authors'. I've been seeing more and more New Age material popping up in these books, probably because the authors were subconsciously influenced by the New Age movement when they were teenagers and now think they are coming up with original works. Apparently, the 'New Age' wasn't even 'New' - it was regurgitated from the New Thought/Spiritualism movements (like Theosophy) that ran amok at the turn of the 19th century.

Kind of makes me wonder about all the books on the market centered on 2012. What are these publishing houses going to do with all that surplus on January 1st, 2013? Should I buy a few to put away as collectors' items? See if I can get autographed copies or something?

I'm on a weird schedule right now - took Friday off work because I thought my urologist appt. was tomorrow, instead it was this morning. I guess I'd originally scheduled it before the last shift bid, when I had a slightly different schedule, but, whatever. At any rate, I had to be there at 9am, so this morning I laid down around 5am for a couple hours nap. Stayed up all day since I didn't get out of the office til almost 11am, decided to lay down around 3:30pm. Put in a shamanic drumming CD because I'm working on the whole 'not dreaming' problem... the drumming & breathing put me into a weird hyperventilating state & I turned the CD off. So I fell asleep & dreamed I was late for work. Probably because I told Rob to get me up around 5:30pm to pop dinner in the oven & my brain knew it was creeping up on 6:30.

I have more stones. I will need yet another surgery. Fanfuckingtastic. I'm petrifying from the inside out, too. I've got something called 'phleboliths', which occurs when blood pools at the valves of blood vessels and calcifies. Not only do I make stones, I'm turning into one. It's not dangerous or remarkable, it's just weird. No, honestly, it's not even all that weird, but it makes x-ray technicians pull their hair out because it looks like I've got perfectly round bladder stones :P

Dog Related TMI ) I bought some beef ribs & set aside a couple to give to Chelsie raw (and turned the rest into hoisin ginger barbecued ribs, epic nom nom w/corn on the cob). I dropped one in her bowl. She picked it up, scouted around the house for a few minutes & proceeded to dump it under my desk. She then sat through dinner giving me the most wounded looks imaginable, like, "how dare you give me raw meat? Especially while you sit there feasting on delectable charred dead cow?" I tried to get her to eat it after dinner and she'd lick it & turn her nose up. Finally, I sat and held the chunk of flesh for her while she oh-so-delicately nipped bits of the rib meat off the bone. Frickin' princess.

Probably going to bed soon. If we get around to it we're going house-shopping & mattress shopping tomorrow. It's been 10 years since I had a new mattress - I think it's about damned time.
perzephone: (dreams)
I've been weaning myself off the Elavil these past couple of weeks, which means I've been taking one every other day. Decided to not do it cold turkey this time around. Next week it'll be one every two days. I can already tell the difference - for instance, like right now, I've been having regular old 'I'm not sleepy' insomnia, coupled with daytime restlessness. Fewer dreams.

My GP's office contains a sleep clinic. I'm thinking about maybe having her run some more in-depth tests on me, like a PET scan. Maybe I do have drain bamage. Some synapses or neurons just not firing in the right sequence anymore. I don't think there's any treatment for things like TBI or drug-related/alcohol related brain damage, but I like having the answers. Just trying to research 'I wake up at the onset of REM sleep' is mostly futile (this is about the only thing I've seen: Sleep Disorder Center). There's lots of stuff out there about 'REM Sleep Behavior Disorder', which is where people don't get sleep paralysis & act out their dreams, but very little on other types of 'REM Sleep Disorders'. I know I get sleep paralysis because I've woken up, couldn't move and could feel the chemicals circulating in my body. Sleep paralysis, if you're not completely freaked out by it, is a comfortable state to be in. You're paralyzed and somewhat numb, so there's no pain or discomfort, just a floating lassitude. Of course, because sleep paralysis comes hand in hand with REM, once I wake up the paralysis never lasts more than a few seconds.

At any rate, I'd like to rule out anything physical, like brain damage. If nothing pops up physical, then I think I'm going to make a concerted effort to wade through the multitudinous layers of red tape put in place by my insurance company & find a therapist. See if there's something mental getting in the way of my dreaming. I can keep taking the Elavil, but it's only a treatment. I never know if the dreams I have are 'true' dreams because I'm on an antidepressant medication. Considering how much I dream about my job, I get the feeling that I'm still not dreaming.

Pathworking with the Tarot often manifests within dreams. Much of magical working manifests in dreams, period. I've always missed out on that particular aspect of spirituality.
perzephone: (dreams)
Had to refill my Elavil, so it reminded me...

Dreamed the other day, not a big dream or anything, but I wasn't at work in it, so it has significance if for only that reason.

I was sitting in a cozy room full of rosewood furniture, hardwood floor, pillows galore tossed around, with some rock star. I want to say it was a younger Robert Plant, but it might have been the lead singer of Train... anyway, it was some rock guy who was vaguely familiar to me. It was cold in the cozy room in my dream, even though there was a fireplace complete with fire (probably because my physical room was cold, to the point of me pushing the dog out of bed in my sleep trying to push my feet under her for more warm). Thinking about it now, the cozy room would not have looked out of place in a music video for Norwegian Wood (the cover by PM Dawn of course, not the original).

For some unknown reason I had shoved a couple of clamshell DVD cases under my leather coat in an attempt to get insulated or something. I mean, that's why I think I had DVD clamshells shoved under my coat, but maybe it's normal for me to walk around that way in my dreams. Maybe I had just shoplifted them, or smuggled them into the cozy room so Generic Rock Guy would sign them... Dunno.

Anyway, he was looking through a photo album and listening to me ramble on about whatever I was rambling on about, throwing me an, 'uh huh' or 'yeah, yeah' every once in awhile. Eventually he looked up at me, and by this time I had my hands stuffed between my thighs & my feet tucked up under me in a vain attempt to get warm. He asked, "do you want to get into the bed?" Of course, suddenly there was a bed in the room, a big tall old-fashioned bed with ornate brass head and foot boards, covered in big fluffy quilts and feather pillows. It was snowy white with the brass shining like gold in the firelight, and looked totally out of place in the cozy wooden room with Generic Rock Guy. I told him, "I thought you'd never ask" like the bed had been there all along. So he got undressed - down to a set of long johns/thermal underwear and got into the bed, with his feet at the head of the bed so he could lay on his side & continue looking at the photo album. I took my coat off & stood there, momentarily perplexed by the avalanche of DVD clamshells that fell out of it onto the floor (what the fuck, I mean, seriously, who walks around with a bunch of DVDs in their coat & forgets about them?), but got into the bed. I really wanted to scrunch down into that pile of blankets, but because GRG was laying the wrong way, I laid in the same direction and just pulled what blanket I could over me. I tried to get comfortable, tried to see past his hair (musta been more Robert Plant than Pat Monahan at that point - there was a lot of blonde curly hair to see over) to the photo album but it was too awkward and I was too cold to expose more of myself, so I just laid there w/my arm outstretched under my head & one hand on his shoulder.

I probably fell asleep with my feet out from under the covers & laying on top of my arm.
perzephone: (Default)
Amidst broken sleep caused by neighbors doing something loud, rumbly and obnoxious, and the barking of dogs set off by loud, rumbly and obnoxious neighbors, I had a dream.

Chelsie and I were sitting on a outcropping of moss and lichen covered rock, jutting out over a cold-looking ocean. It was cool, and occasional wafts of salt spray would reach us. There was a big nutmeg-colored mama bear with her nutmeg colored cub on the outcropping with us. They were just kind of meandering around. Chelsie kept running up to the cub and dashing away, as if trying to get it to play. I kept calling her back, mainly because I didn't want the mama bear to kill her. One time, when I called her back, the cub followed, and I was like, "Oh crap"... I just tried to sit very still and not draw attention to myself, while Chelsie circled the bear trying to sniff its butt, as if it was a big, woolly dog.

Much to my utter dismay, the cub decided to take a dump right next to me. Chelsie then starting sniffing at the scat, and got fresh bear shit on her nose. Without thinking, my dream self wiped it off and I realized what I'd just done, so I sat there scrubbing my finger in the moss, rather ineffectively.

Dream-bear shit smells vaguely like horse poop.


Mar. 1st, 2010 09:27 pm
perzephone: (Default)
Rob pointed out something to me.

The lead singer of TOAD, who is the closest semblance I could think of to BSG, looks like a younger version of Pat Monahan, who is the lead singer of Train. There is much speculation that Pat Monahan is in actuality my soul-mate, which irritates Rob to no end, because even he can't deny that Monahan writes songs about me.

Maybe I am Pat Monahan's anima.

Weirder things have happened. John Cusack is the voice of Rob's conscience, which leads us to believe that John Cusack may be plagued by a devil on his shoulder that looks or sounds like Rob.



Mar. 1st, 2010 07:18 pm
perzephone: (Default)
I'm kind of lackadaisical about work right now, which is not my usual attitude. I'm basically waiting til the steady extra post at the Ex opens up again, but I'm not positive enough about it to just quit the County. So I half-ass it at work in the meantime.

Been thinking about this all day. Mainly because the boss was off & I had the spare time. Bowling Shirt Guy, aka BSG, aka Mr Fix-It, as my animus, and the Plague Doctor. I've gained two new allies lately, so I'm wondering how am I supposed to use them?

The Plague Doctor does not feel like any part of my personality personified. He's external, from a time and place I can only imagine. I am unsure of how to communicate with him. Despite his warm human hands, I'm not even sure if he's human under his bird-beaked mask. He smells of wormwood and something lemony, maybe thyme or tarragon, and paraffin used to coat his cloak, with an dusty animal smell, like feathers or old hides. He grumbles, and although I catch the Italian accent, snippets of Latin, it isn't fully articulated words. He coughs. Does he have the plague or TB, or is it the herbs in his mask making him hack like that? Are his hands warm, or are they fevered? He was one of the quacks of his day and age, but he helped relieve my pain. He hangs around, more & more. I sketch him now and then.

Mr. Fix-It is very new, but I think I know why I've met him. I need someone to help me get things done, and I've been unsure and unconfident about getting things done. My brain has sent me 'a real man' to help me out. If I can just get past the OMG SEX DREAMS factor and open a dialogue with him, I might get what I really need - which might be a home-based technical writing business. I've also decided that I am going to try for the cap-and-gown graduation ceremony. Yeah, student loans & the in-laws may have payed for my degree, but damn it, I was the one who took all the classes and passed them. Even the math classes. Especially the math classes. I guess I do have a right to be proud of myself, even if it's just a little, for having the determination to get through these last 5 years. Tomorrow I'm taking off a little early to go talk to a graduation counselor & see if I can make it under the wire for Spring '10.
perzephone: (Default)
I've been delving a little deeper into the appearance of Bowling Shirt Guy in my dream. Why did I get such an instant attraction to someone I wouldn't normally think I'd be attracted? Why was he in my dream in the first place? Why was he helping me clean out the fridge & wash dishes? Why did he belong to someone else? Because I don't have them often, my dreams are always sacred to me, even if I'm dreaming about housework or my job, so when I do dream - and I do remember the dream - they tend to have an impact on me. I automatically seek the significance because in my world, there is no such thing as 'just a dream'.

I've never had a problem with my own inner masculinity. I was never forced to be girlie when I was a little kid. I was 'daddy's little girl', but instead of being coddled, petted & spoiled, I wanted to be like my dad. I wanted to wear cowboy boots & drive a truck. I had no time for tea parties, Barbie & baby dolls - my world was one of mechanical devices that got taken apart to see what made them work, models, grease, deisel exhaust and rain. I never had the experience of being told that something was beyond my grasp because it was 'for boys'. Jobs, games, toys, hobbies - my parents pretty much let me have free reign over my role in life. The only thing they ever said to me was they hoped I would have a better life than just being a trucker. They would have thought my current position as an LOA would be preferable to life on the open road.

I think, as a result, I've always had a good relationship with my animus. I'm not up on Jungian psychology too much, but I do know a lot of women have dreams of 'dark men', dreams of fear & pursuit. They run from their shadowy masculine sides in dreams, even if they've never been pursued in real life. There is an uneasiness about men, especially strange men. For me, I never had those kinds of dreams. I haven't ever dreamed that I'm running from a half-seen, dark shadow of a man with ill intent. My dreams of pursuit involve monsters, not humans, and I rarely have them. The 'chicken coop' dream, the 'junk yard' dream, the 'Leviathan dream' - those are my dreams of anxiety and fear. I don't fear men in real life, but there is a part of me that knows I am strong enough to defend myself and do someone real damage if pushed into it. In fact, I've sent a couple people to the ER. I rarely worry about my physical safety, so I don't dream about it. I'm comfortable (mostly) with my own inner darkness, too. It doesn't scare me. I know what it could be capable of, and I'm ok with it. I don't fear myself because I know myself and for the most part, I trust myself. I even trust my occasional bouts of the crazies. I may do myself in one of these days when I have one of my crazy times, but, eh.

Anyway, what this boils down to is that it's possible that Bowling Shirt Guy might just be the personification of my animus. He's my masculine qualities and traits in a particularly interesting form. It says a lot about my masculine side if that is who he is (as opposed to being a fantasy wrought from me turning 36 & hitting the fabled sexual peak women are supposed to get at my age). So, if BSG is my animus... my masculine side is a bit outdated, with some old-fashioned ideals, but he prefers to work with his hands and he believes in getting things done. When he punches out for the day, he doesn't want to be nagged at or given more chores - he wants to put his feet up, watch t.v. & have a beer. What I see in him is that he fixes things. If something is broken or is causing complaints, he fixes it. That is definitely me - I hate when people bitch about things and do nothing to solve the problem. I try to fix things that other people are perfectly happy to just bitch about, even if it's something that's not really even my job to fix. He also just wants to get the job done - he doesn't want to stand around yakking about it - which is also me. He also believes that if he asks someone to do something, they should just freaking do it.

I need food - will probably continue this later.
perzephone: (Default)
I don't know if it's my age or the new birth control pill, but I seem to have developed a taste for slightly retro greaser-looking men.

One of the Xerox techs wears jeans, biker boots, bowling shirts and a bomber jacket. He's a complete ass, too, but I think about breaking the model of machine he works on just so he'll have to come out to fix it.

I was dreaming about the lead singer from Theory of a Deadman during my nap. He was someone else's boyfriend but I wanted him and wasn't too discrete about letting it be known. He has that same kind of retro style. I can't even think of what era it's from, late 50s, maybe? He was helping me clean out a fridge. I was finding spaghetti sauce in the weirdest of containers.

I'm still not fully here, but I'm going back to bed, so it doesn't really matter.

Edited for the lulz...

I hate being horny when there's nothing I can do about it. All I can think about is watching a man in a snug t-shirt standing at a kitchen sink washing spaghetti sauce out of a Vidalia Onion Wizard. Men's backs turn me on, even when it's just in a dream.


Been writing porn in my head all day. Came home & had sex with Rob. I don't think he'd look good in a bowling shirt. He's taken to wearing bandannas to hold his hair out of his eyes & he looks like a scrawny biker. I would have much rather had sex with a bowling shirt guy than a scrawny biker, but eh, it scratched the itch.
perzephone: (Default)
Last night my back was bad. Cryingly bad. I actually went to bed before midnight, and I had the strangest dream.

The barking ghost was back, only he was fully manifested as a plague doctor, with dusty black overcoat, floppy-brimmed hat and the bird-beaked mask. He was poking me and prodding me with long, bony, pale fingers, which were not like a modern doctor's fingers because they were invitingly warm. Instead of making his usual barking/coughing noise, he was grumbling and muttering at me in a low, gravelly voice. At first, I was afraid of him, mainly because even in my dream I was in a dead sleep and he woke me up. I know it was a dream, though, because I sleep in the nude and in my dream I was wearing a long black gown - and my luxurious cotton sheets had been replaced with black silk. Now that I'm trying to recall the dream, I think I might have actually been in a fucking coffin because I couldn't really scootch away from the doctor.

He kept pushing and prodding at my ribs and side, and it hurt every time he hit the kidney area on my side. I wanted him to stop poking me, but I couldn't seem to push his hands away and I couldn't fully sit up. So I gave in and rolled onto my right side. He dug a warm, firm hand into my side and began rubbing my lower back & hips with the other. The one on my side hurt, and I was writhing, trying to get away from the pressure but he kept at it. I flopped all the way over on my stomach & tried to crawl out of whatever kind of confining box I was in, but he just grabbed the gown and kept working on my side and back. The more I struggled, the louder but gentler his grumbling got, as if he was at the same time trying to reassure me & trying to scold me.

Finally, he quit digging his knuckles into my guts, started rubbing my shoulders & pulled a blanket or covering of some kind up over me, patted me on the head & left.

It's the weirdest damned thing, though, because my back hasn't been nearly as bad today, and even the base of my shoulders, which is usually a huge knot, feels pretty relaxed. I don't know why the spirit of some medieval sawbones has attached itself to me. I don't know where it came from or why it's been visiting me. But I do appreciate its heavy-handed massage therapy :)
perzephone: (Default)
Last night, I dreamed

I was laying on something
Cold, smooth, hard
Under my shoulders
Under my hips
Under my heels

Someone was reaching inside me
“Hey! What are you doing in there?!”
Hands, pulling out my bones
Laying them on a shelf
“Give those back! Those are mine!”

I could not speak
Then I saw, on the shelf
Among the bones,
My lower jaw
And I understood

The hands took my pelvis, my spine
Grabbed a rib, and another
There were not enough ribs
But then the axe head
And I understood

The lack of words
Did not quench my disquiet
The hands would not stop
Until all of my bones
Rested on that shelf
Another voice, “Quiet there!

Can’t you see, we’re all
In this together? Might as well
Let us sleep in peace!”
I heard, the other voices,
Angry murmurs, and saw
All the bones, all the shelves
And I understood
perzephone: (Default)
I'm naked in my dreams a lot, in varying situations. I don't know why. I always seem to be more conscious of the fact that I am naked than anyone else in my dreams. I get moments where people show up & I scramble for clothing, which I'm sure has some symbolism behind it about people I can be myself around vs. people I use a persona around.

At any rate, last night was the first time I dreamed that someone told me to go put some clothes on. I was moving furniture or boxes or something & I was naked & this random woman came up to me & told me I needed to get dressed.

I was insulted.


Aug. 11th, 2009 08:24 pm
perzephone: (Default)
Sleep last night was remarkably uneventful. It was a relief. No dreams, no nothing, waking up to hear pigeon feet on the porch roof.

I even tried my best before I fell asleep. I envisioned the theatre, with its plush red velvet seats, dark mahogany paneling, cheap thin red casino-like carpeting... it would be a nice theatre if they didn't get their carpet at a hotel/casino reseller... the soft indirect lighting, the thick red velvet curtain opening on that impossibly wide window, the sea-washed black cliffs on the other side. I could even see myself, standing in the back row, hands gripping a seat back... in my nightie & bare feet, but whatever. I could feel that surging panic in my stomach pushing up into my chest, white-knuckling, shaking, hair standing on end.

And then waking up to my obnoxious alarm clock. It has the option of playing a CD for the alarm & I put in Shinedown's CD because the first song on it is Devour & I can sleep through Seether & Breaking Benjamin.

Read the new PopSci today. MIT has free online classes in varied & sundry subjects. I'm thoroughly intrigued... Quantum physics, anyone?


Aug. 10th, 2009 11:12 pm
perzephone: (Default)
I did the bad thing this afternoon (actually, it was around noon) & drank a large caffeinated coffee. I feel far more chipper than I have since March, but now my chest hurts & I'm jittery. Common sense is telling me that coffee was out of my system by about 6pm, but...

I've been thinking about the Thing From the Bottom of the Ocean. Now I'm afraid that when I go to sleep, I'm going to have The Dream again, where I'm in the empty theater & the curtains open to reveal a huge glass window, like in an enormous aquarium. On the other side of the glass are cliffs, immense black cliffs, with water pouring off them. And the water behind the glass begins to rise and I get that sense of something rising with the water, at great speed. I get the feeling that it eats whales for breakfast, and that it's very old and barnacle-and coral-encrusted.

It's got my back up.
perzephone: (Default)

I am a silly old woman.


perzephone: (Default)
Rainbow Serpent Woman

August 2014

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