Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Last night's dream 2/24/10
I dreamt I was walking down 5th Avenue in New York City with My Gal. I had a stick in my left hand and an ice cream cone in my right. Every time we passed a woman wearing red My Gal would say, “Poker.”
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Last night's dream 2/23/10
I dreamt I kept meeting Christians. We’d go out for breakfast. I’d always order the chocolate chip waffles. They’d always order the eggs.
and the same night...
I dreamt my friend walked into the room and told me she went to the local titty bar and did the licking table. She said, “I went in, and all the old guys thought, ‘Oh that girl! She’s a lookyloo,” but then I went over and climbed up on the licking table.”
“What was it like?”
“It was kind of disgusting.”
and the same night...
I dreamt my friend walked into the room and told me she went to the local titty bar and did the licking table. She said, “I went in, and all the old guys thought, ‘Oh that girl! She’s a lookyloo,” but then I went over and climbed up on the licking table.”
“What was it like?”
“It was kind of disgusting.”
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Last night's dream 1/10/10
Last night I dreamt that Nigel and I were walking down the street and Nigel was carrying a little bandanna wrapped bundle at the end of a little tree branch. He was running away and had asked me to walk with him for awhile until he got the hang of it.
His bundle included 9 Q-tip sticks, with the ends removed; a can of Friskies Chicken and Liver and one of Turkey and Cheese; a tinfoil ball to remember Rosebud by; and a picture of me with our address on the back in case he had second thoughts.
"Where are you going to go?" I asked casually.
"New Orleans."
"Why New Orleans little man?"
"I heard your Gal talking about it the other night and I want to go and help."
"Well, that's nice honey. But My Gal was there a few years ago, when the hurricane hit. It's been a few years."
"I think things are still pretty bad there Mom."
"You're probably right, Nigel."
"I need to go DO something Mommy. My life just can't be about chasing Q-Tip sticks and licking my deflated balls."
"Nigel!"
"Well, it's true! I want to ACCOMPLISH something Mommy!"
I sighed and realized that my inter species son had more of an idea of what he wanted to do with his life than I did. What had happened to my desire to DO SOMETHING with my life? When had it become days of undirected this and that? Time was wasting and I was wasting it.
"Mommy..."
"Yes Nigel."
"Is New Orleans far?"
"Yes boy. It's 1791.2 miles."
Now it was Nigel's turn to sigh and he looked worried.
"Hey Nige...how about if you come back home and next time we visit Grandma in Florida I will drop you off in New Orleans on the way."
"But Mom, I want to help now!"
"Okay, well, how about if you help me?"
"Oh Mommy, you don't need anyone's help."
"That's not true boy. I need your help."
"How?" he challenged.
And I was stumped again. I wanted to get the boy home. I wanted to help him find a purpose that could be served within the walls of the condo so that he'd be safe. But I didn't want to thwart his dreams. I didn't want to misdirect his passion to help others. Why was I at such a loss these days? Why didn't any path seem like the right one?
Suddenly I realized Jesus had joined us on the other side of Nigel and they were punching each other in the arm.
"Hey my Man! Going to New Orleans, huh?"
"Well, I was going to but it's really far Jesus and I..." and here Nigel started getting overwhelmed.
"No problemo, little buddy!" Jesus said and shot me a worried look.
"Oh crap!" I thought, "we're screwed."
"Dad has New Orleans covered!" lied Jesus, "Everything is groovy there now Nigel!" he continued in this high voice he uses when he's lying his ass off.
"It is?" Nigel looked up into Jesus' face wanting to trust him, as we all did.
"Sure, sure, sure!" continued the lying face of Jesus.
"I..." I started but Jesus shot me this I-will-turn-you-into-a-pear look and I shut up.
Jesus picked up Nigel and got very interested in what was in his bandanna sack. Then he suggested ice cream and suddenly we were headed towards Cold Stone and New Orleans was in the past.
While Nigel was attacking his vanilla and chicken and liver swirl cone I whispered to Jesus, "What the f..."
"What did you expect me to do? Tell the little guy New Orleans STILL looks like a bombed out village from WW2? That I had no idea what my old man was waiting for there? Did you WANT him to walk to New Orleans?!?!?"
"No...of course not."
Big sigh from me.
"He wants to help..." and I started to cry.
"Easy now sis..."
"He wants to help and I am a big lump of..."
"Your jealous of your son's desire to help?"
"No! Yes! Oh man. I'm lost! What should I do? Should I be in New Orleans helping to rebuild? Should I be in Bangladesh helping to feed the hungry? Should I be on an anti-whaling boat between a whale and a whaling ship? Should I be in NYC on the sidewalk expounding the virtues of single needle use to drug users? Should I be lobbying Washington to abolish Don't Ask Don't Tell? Should I be fighting against clitoridectomies on young girls in Asia and Africa? Should I be doling out food at the local food bank? Should I be..." and I dissolved into tears.
Nigel ran over.
"Mommy! Mommy!" and he turned to Jesus and shouted "What did you do to her?" and bit him on the hand then he leaped into my arms.
"Ow! Hey! You little son-of-a...!"
"Nigel!" I scolded but held him tight.
He struggled out of my grasp.
"You're okay right? Because I need to get back to my ice cream."
"Yes, yes. I'm okay. Well, I'm not...but go, go before it melts all over the sidewalk."
And all three of us looked over at his cone, thrown carelessly to the sidewalk when he thought I needed him.
"That's what you do." Jesus said. "That's all any of us do. We drop the cone and we go to the side of the ones we love. And for some those are strangers and for some they aren't. And for some they feed them and some they teach them and some they comfort them in other ways. I'm still searching for the way I need to do it. So are you El, that's all. Just remember, when the time is right, you'll drop the cone."
His bundle included 9 Q-tip sticks, with the ends removed; a can of Friskies Chicken and Liver and one of Turkey and Cheese; a tinfoil ball to remember Rosebud by; and a picture of me with our address on the back in case he had second thoughts.
"Where are you going to go?" I asked casually.
"New Orleans."
"Why New Orleans little man?"
"I heard your Gal talking about it the other night and I want to go and help."
"Well, that's nice honey. But My Gal was there a few years ago, when the hurricane hit. It's been a few years."
"I think things are still pretty bad there Mom."
"You're probably right, Nigel."
"I need to go DO something Mommy. My life just can't be about chasing Q-Tip sticks and licking my deflated balls."
"Nigel!"
"Well, it's true! I want to ACCOMPLISH something Mommy!"
I sighed and realized that my inter species son had more of an idea of what he wanted to do with his life than I did. What had happened to my desire to DO SOMETHING with my life? When had it become days of undirected this and that? Time was wasting and I was wasting it.
"Mommy..."
"Yes Nigel."
"Is New Orleans far?"
"Yes boy. It's 1791.2 miles."
Now it was Nigel's turn to sigh and he looked worried.
"Hey Nige...how about if you come back home and next time we visit Grandma in Florida I will drop you off in New Orleans on the way."
"But Mom, I want to help now!"
"Okay, well, how about if you help me?"
"Oh Mommy, you don't need anyone's help."
"That's not true boy. I need your help."
"How?" he challenged.
And I was stumped again. I wanted to get the boy home. I wanted to help him find a purpose that could be served within the walls of the condo so that he'd be safe. But I didn't want to thwart his dreams. I didn't want to misdirect his passion to help others. Why was I at such a loss these days? Why didn't any path seem like the right one?
Suddenly I realized Jesus had joined us on the other side of Nigel and they were punching each other in the arm.
"Hey my Man! Going to New Orleans, huh?"
"Well, I was going to but it's really far Jesus and I..." and here Nigel started getting overwhelmed.
"No problemo, little buddy!" Jesus said and shot me a worried look.
"Oh crap!" I thought, "we're screwed."
"Dad has New Orleans covered!" lied Jesus, "Everything is groovy there now Nigel!" he continued in this high voice he uses when he's lying his ass off.
"It is?" Nigel looked up into Jesus' face wanting to trust him, as we all did.
"Sure, sure, sure!" continued the lying face of Jesus.
"I..." I started but Jesus shot me this I-will-turn-you-into-a-pear look and I shut up.
Jesus picked up Nigel and got very interested in what was in his bandanna sack. Then he suggested ice cream and suddenly we were headed towards Cold Stone and New Orleans was in the past.
While Nigel was attacking his vanilla and chicken and liver swirl cone I whispered to Jesus, "What the f..."
"What did you expect me to do? Tell the little guy New Orleans STILL looks like a bombed out village from WW2? That I had no idea what my old man was waiting for there? Did you WANT him to walk to New Orleans?!?!?"
"No...of course not."
Big sigh from me.
"He wants to help..." and I started to cry.
"Easy now sis..."
"He wants to help and I am a big lump of..."
"Your jealous of your son's desire to help?"
"No! Yes! Oh man. I'm lost! What should I do? Should I be in New Orleans helping to rebuild? Should I be in Bangladesh helping to feed the hungry? Should I be on an anti-whaling boat between a whale and a whaling ship? Should I be in NYC on the sidewalk expounding the virtues of single needle use to drug users? Should I be lobbying Washington to abolish Don't Ask Don't Tell? Should I be fighting against clitoridectomies on young girls in Asia and Africa? Should I be doling out food at the local food bank? Should I be..." and I dissolved into tears.
Nigel ran over.
"Mommy! Mommy!" and he turned to Jesus and shouted "What did you do to her?" and bit him on the hand then he leaped into my arms.
"Ow! Hey! You little son-of-a...!"
"Nigel!" I scolded but held him tight.
He struggled out of my grasp.
"You're okay right? Because I need to get back to my ice cream."
"Yes, yes. I'm okay. Well, I'm not...but go, go before it melts all over the sidewalk."
And all three of us looked over at his cone, thrown carelessly to the sidewalk when he thought I needed him.
"That's what you do." Jesus said. "That's all any of us do. We drop the cone and we go to the side of the ones we love. And for some those are strangers and for some they aren't. And for some they feed them and some they teach them and some they comfort them in other ways. I'm still searching for the way I need to do it. So are you El, that's all. Just remember, when the time is right, you'll drop the cone."
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Last night's dream 12/26/09
Last night I dreamt that Santa, Jesus and I were coloring Easter eggs in preparation for the next big holiday.
"What about Valentine's Day?" I queried.
"Man made holiday...doesn't count," said Jesus.
Santa glared at Jesus.
"That's a good idea, Big E. (Santa calls me "Big E") I always get Mrs. Claus a heart shaped box of chocolates!" he said emphatically.
"I always get Mrs. Clause a heart shaped box..." Jesus said snarkily under his breath, but we all heard him.
What was really going on was that Jesus didn't have a Valentine.
"What ever happened to that Mary chick?" Santa asked innocently but with malice.
I tried to scoot my chair back a foot without really being noticed. This was dangerous territory and I wanted nothing to do with it.
But Jesus was cool, seemingly unaffected. "Moved to Berkley, took up some women's causes...NOW, La Leche, some others...." he replied nonchalantly. But I noticed that the egg he was getting ready to put in the blue dye bath was cracking slowly in his clenched fist.
"So!..." I said and trailed off ineffectively.
It was always like that when the two of them got together. They couldn't get along.
Jesus threw his egg into the blue dye and blue dye splashed out everywhere including on Santa's suit. Including his white fur collar. Including his snowy white beard. I scooted my chair wwwaaaaayyyyy back and murmured something about the time and how I had to be moseying. Jesus tittered. Santa's face clouded.
"So!..." I tried again.
"Think that's funny," Santa stated.
"Uh huh." Jesus smirked.
Santa picked up an egg and eyed the green dye.
"No! No! No!" I shouted and leaped up from my chair and stood between the two of them. "Ya'll act like four year olds!" I scolded. "Four year olds!" I added for emphasis. The egg hit the green dye with astounding force and both Jesus and I were completely greened. "You bastard." I inhaled. "Not only is that shit green, it's like freakin' ice water!" I yelped like a dog. Jesus just waved his hand and turned Santa into a pear.
"A pear?" I asked.
"A pear," Jesus said. "First thing that popped into my head. I should eat the mother..."
"Hey now!" the pear said.
"Turn him back." I sighed.
"No."
"J, man, turn him back."
"It's not going to happen, Big E." (Jesus also calls me "Big E".)
"Come on...what about turn the other cheek and love..."
"Thy enemies?" Jesus whispered.
"Oh, come on! For the love of...! Santa is not your enemy!" I said, exasperated.
"He is!" Jesus said petulantly.
"I'm not," said the pear.
"Tsk."
Jesus waved his hand and Santa was again Santa.
"Whew! Ho, ho, ho!" remarked Santa. "A pear! Whew! Ho," he imparted.
Jesus started to laugh a little.
Santa threw back his head and "ho, ho, ho'ed" it out of the park.
Jesus got a fit of the giggles.
I went along. "Hee, hee, ha....ahahaha..."
The only dye left was the pink so we rustled up a huge batch of shiny pink eggs and then went out for beers.
"What about Valentine's Day?" I queried.
"Man made holiday...doesn't count," said Jesus.
Santa glared at Jesus.
"That's a good idea, Big E. (Santa calls me "Big E") I always get Mrs. Claus a heart shaped box of chocolates!" he said emphatically.
"I always get Mrs. Clause a heart shaped box..." Jesus said snarkily under his breath, but we all heard him.
What was really going on was that Jesus didn't have a Valentine.
"What ever happened to that Mary chick?" Santa asked innocently but with malice.
I tried to scoot my chair back a foot without really being noticed. This was dangerous territory and I wanted nothing to do with it.
But Jesus was cool, seemingly unaffected. "Moved to Berkley, took up some women's causes...NOW, La Leche, some others...." he replied nonchalantly. But I noticed that the egg he was getting ready to put in the blue dye bath was cracking slowly in his clenched fist.
"So!..." I said and trailed off ineffectively.
It was always like that when the two of them got together. They couldn't get along.
Jesus threw his egg into the blue dye and blue dye splashed out everywhere including on Santa's suit. Including his white fur collar. Including his snowy white beard. I scooted my chair wwwaaaaayyyyy back and murmured something about the time and how I had to be moseying. Jesus tittered. Santa's face clouded.
"So!..." I tried again.
"Think that's funny," Santa stated.
"Uh huh." Jesus smirked.
Santa picked up an egg and eyed the green dye.
"No! No! No!" I shouted and leaped up from my chair and stood between the two of them. "Ya'll act like four year olds!" I scolded. "Four year olds!" I added for emphasis. The egg hit the green dye with astounding force and both Jesus and I were completely greened. "You bastard." I inhaled. "Not only is that shit green, it's like freakin' ice water!" I yelped like a dog. Jesus just waved his hand and turned Santa into a pear.
"A pear?" I asked.
"A pear," Jesus said. "First thing that popped into my head. I should eat the mother..."
"Hey now!" the pear said.
"Turn him back." I sighed.
"No."
"J, man, turn him back."
"It's not going to happen, Big E." (Jesus also calls me "Big E".)
"Come on...what about turn the other cheek and love..."
"Thy enemies?" Jesus whispered.
"Oh, come on! For the love of...! Santa is not your enemy!" I said, exasperated.
"He is!" Jesus said petulantly.
"I'm not," said the pear.
"Tsk."
Jesus waved his hand and Santa was again Santa.
"Whew! Ho, ho, ho!" remarked Santa. "A pear! Whew! Ho," he imparted.
Jesus started to laugh a little.
Santa threw back his head and "ho, ho, ho'ed" it out of the park.
Jesus got a fit of the giggles.
I went along. "Hee, hee, ha....ahahaha..."
The only dye left was the pink so we rustled up a huge batch of shiny pink eggs and then went out for beers.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Last night's dream 12/24/09
Last night I dreamt I was wrapping presents in the Philippines in a sweatshop surrounded by 8 and 9 year olds who were also wrapping presents.
Tsk, I thought hotly.
The little kids were sullen and every so often I would catch one of them out of the corner of my eye, gouging a present with a long thumbnail or even biting a toy leaving ugly marks on a doll leg or a train's little chimney spout and I thought, Good for you, kid! But it felt wrong. It all felt so very, very wrong. So I pulled out my cell and called Jesus.
"Hello! You've reached the Big J! SuperJeez, The Christ! Can't come to the phone right now--I'm either saving souls or beating down the devil...leave a message!"
"Jesus..." I muttered..."Jesus!" a little louder. "Hey Man, pick up....Pick up....Pick up! Pick..."
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Whasup?"
"I'm over here in the Philippines in a sweat shop with little kids who are wrapping expensive presents...and I'm wondering, What's up with this?!?!?"
"Oh....uh....can you call back in like...an hour?"
"Don't. You. Dare." I said menacingly.
"Well, crap! How do I KNOW?!?!? I'm the freakin' SON for cryin' out loud! I'm not, like, GOD!"
Silence from me.
"Well, I AM God...well...it's complicated."
Silence from me.
"Tsk."
Silence from me.
"I don't KNOW. WE can't always UNDERSTAND the Master's PLAN but we can take comfort...I don't know why Dad...why I...what the meaning...FAITH! Faith...sometimes things just need to BE because they are a small piece in a bigger...GOD WORKS IN MYSTERIOUS...tsk."
Silence from me.
"What do you want from me?"
Silence from me.
"It's beyond me, El. Yes, even ME. Happy now?!?!?"
"You can make it rain marshmellows on a canal in Venice and you can't do something about sweatshops with little kids in them?" I ask, already knowing that this conversation isn't ever going to end. It's an unending conversation. It has no conclusion. There is no answer. It's an answerless query. Jesus really doesn't know.
"Look...I asked Him once and he...well, let's just say he wasn't PLEASED. He's omniscient...I'm part of him but not all of him...just the good parts...ha,ha,ahahaha...okay, listen...LISTEN...I..." and Jesus trailed off. "I've got another call coming in...I'll call you back. I'll CALL YOU BACK, `k?"
And he hung up.
I bit into the arm of a bobblehead and wrapped it.
Tsk, I thought hotly.
The little kids were sullen and every so often I would catch one of them out of the corner of my eye, gouging a present with a long thumbnail or even biting a toy leaving ugly marks on a doll leg or a train's little chimney spout and I thought, Good for you, kid! But it felt wrong. It all felt so very, very wrong. So I pulled out my cell and called Jesus.
"Hello! You've reached the Big J! SuperJeez, The Christ! Can't come to the phone right now--I'm either saving souls or beating down the devil...leave a message!"
"Jesus..." I muttered..."Jesus!" a little louder. "Hey Man, pick up....Pick up....Pick up! Pick..."
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Whasup?"
"I'm over here in the Philippines in a sweat shop with little kids who are wrapping expensive presents...and I'm wondering, What's up with this?!?!?"
"Oh....uh....can you call back in like...an hour?"
"Don't. You. Dare." I said menacingly.
"Well, crap! How do I KNOW?!?!? I'm the freakin' SON for cryin' out loud! I'm not, like, GOD!"
Silence from me.
"Well, I AM God...well...it's complicated."
Silence from me.
"Tsk."
Silence from me.
"I don't KNOW. WE can't always UNDERSTAND the Master's PLAN but we can take comfort...I don't know why Dad...why I...what the meaning...FAITH! Faith...sometimes things just need to BE because they are a small piece in a bigger...GOD WORKS IN MYSTERIOUS...tsk."
Silence from me.
"What do you want from me?"
Silence from me.
"It's beyond me, El. Yes, even ME. Happy now?!?!?"
"You can make it rain marshmellows on a canal in Venice and you can't do something about sweatshops with little kids in them?" I ask, already knowing that this conversation isn't ever going to end. It's an unending conversation. It has no conclusion. There is no answer. It's an answerless query. Jesus really doesn't know.
"Look...I asked Him once and he...well, let's just say he wasn't PLEASED. He's omniscient...I'm part of him but not all of him...just the good parts...ha,ha,ahahaha...okay, listen...LISTEN...I..." and Jesus trailed off. "I've got another call coming in...I'll call you back. I'll CALL YOU BACK, `k?"
And he hung up.
I bit into the arm of a bobblehead and wrapped it.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Last night's dream 12/22/09
Last night I dreamt that Nigel and I were on a walk around the neighborhood and Nigel was asking me hard to answer questions like, "Why was I born, Mom?" and "Is there pattern to the Universe or is it all Chaos, Mommy?" and "If it is all Chaos, isn't the Chaos itself a kind of pattern, Ma?" and "What's string theory, Momma?" and "Do string theory, quantum physics and fractals merge together at some point to create an even newer form of theory, Mom?" I kept humming and hawing and trying to distract him with comments like, "Oh! Look at that pretty flower!" and "Are you tired yet, little fella? Want to go back home?" and "My, it sure is warm for December, isn't it?" But he wasn't to be distracted. He was hot on trying to figure out the Universe and I was supposed to be the one to help him untangle the web of mystery. "Mommy, I have fractals in my EYES!" he exclaimed and put his eye up really close to mine. "That tree, if we looked at it through a very powerful microscope, IT has fractals!" Then he sighed. "Science is awesome, Mom!" Finally I relented. "When we get home let's look up some of this stuff on the computer, `k?" I suggested. "Yeah!" Nigel said enthusiastically and started running for home. I unlocked the door and he bounded up the stairs. But by the time I got the computer up and running Nigel had found one of his Q-tip sticks (with the fluffy ends removed) and when I said, "Hey Nige, I'm ready to do a search on string theory!" he turned to me said, "Meow." and carried his Q-tip into the living room to play. Science would have to wait.
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