Sunday, February 20, 2011

Lost in the Ozone Again

I wrote this early last week and then forgot all about it. 

And so really, how am I feeling about the move? (Does it matter how I feel?)  I have to be here, unless I wish to totally upset my life. Anymore, I am not so ready to chuck everything to go live in an ashram. Medical benefits are not to be sneezed at, at my age. 

I am liking the new house a lot. It is a "round house," in that one can walk from the kitchen to the living room in two directions, unlike a ranch-style house. The house in Indiana was similarly round. This house has two bath rooms, not one, and a dishwasher. Do you all recall my joy at washing dishes every week or two? This house is also warmer and better insulated. There is twice weekly trash pick up, and monthly pick up of recycling, yard waste, and brush. The letter carrier comes to my front door.

I am finding myself happy here. I am happy to have Sweetie with me more, even though his pay is less. But you all know that money isn't everything. He worked his skinny-ass off all those years in Indiana, but I missed him! I missed us having a life together. I have missed staying up late and looking up at the stars. Life is too short to work all the time. I want to have summer nights with him, looking at lightening bugs and full moons. I want to have him with me, without him exhausted from a 60 hour week. 

It has been stressful, as the rashes on my arms testify. (The medical bennies begin March 1.) I have been having the Stress Filled Opera Dreams. Similar to "the school bus is coming and I can't find my shoes" stress dreams. The Opera Dreams appear when I am under extraordinary stress. Generally, the opera is opening within the next day or two, and there are seventeen costumes still to construct. For whatever reason, I am not freaked out by this. Sometimes, I am trying to get sewing machines to work, other times, I can't find bobbins or needles, or my car gets stuck in snow. While in the dream, though, I am remarkably unbothered.

I had my first cognitive dream the other night. That's when one knows one is dreaming and becomes the director instead of the passive observer. Usually when I realize I am dreaming, I wake up, but this time, I knew I was dreaming and I said, Hey, Let's fly! And I did! It was amazing! I swooped and soared and the feeling of freedom was intense. 

That must be part of me dealing with the mov. Maybe. I don't know. 

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