I had another of my anxiety dreams last night. (I haven't been remembering my dreams for months. I use to dream, and remember, the most exciting and interesting dreams. Like movies they were. Science fiction, starring me and Tom Cruise. I'm serious! We have to save or rescue someone, with the bad guys chasing us, and we're flying cool jet-type things through a swarming future mega-city. That was one. Another was Tom and I were rebels in a totalitarian society in which common people were forced to work in an underground complex and we were trying to escape with the bad guys chasing us. We stole a rocket and burst through the earth's crust into sunshine. There are more and not all of them contain Tom Cruise, but you get the gist.)
Last night's dream involved costumes for a movie and the Los Angeles designer kept adding more detail, more costumes and the deadline kept being moving up. Everyone was intimidated by the designer but I said, "I've dealt with these people before and I am not intimidated. Their panties are always in a bunch. It ain't gonna happen. They'll have to wait!" I was trying to find a bathroom, then I woke up.
I take these type of dreams to be anxiety dreams, but I don't get freaked out in the dream but rather, I deal and cope.
Yesterday, I worked at excavating my studio. With the big ass loom gone, I have some room to maneuver. Photos show one month ago versus now.
I was ruthless about placing stuff either in the Goodwill box or the trash. I have boxes of sewing supplies that I haven't touched in twelve years. A box of pea coat buttons. Drapery weights. I kept the pile of velcro. I have saved picture calendars since '97, for inspiration dontcha know. Off they went to the recyclers. The score was two bags of trash and three boxes for charity and a half box of keepers. I'm not done but I have made serious progress. I'd love to have the entire house dejunked by New Year's day - but it would take a Hercules for that to happen.