DREAMING.

My anxiety dreams have changed over the years. Through my twenties, I had flat out nightmares - mostly of something chasing me. But I also had typical anxiety dreams, like 'the school bus is coming and I can't find my clothes/shoes/school book' or 'the school bus is honking at the end of the driveway and I try to run or yell and can't.' (I hate that whole sleep paralysis thing.)

When my drinking was getting bad, in my late 20s, at least once a month I'd have a dream about trying to hide a body. Often it was in the trunk of a car, my car. My anxiety dreams were a manifestation of my big secret, and my whole life back then was a secret. How much I drank was a secret, most of my paramours were a secret, my hopes and dreams were my secret. The extent of my unhappiness was a secret.

Then, I had a dream that I was searching frantically for my bottle of liquor in some little house. I looked under the couch cushions and I got down on my knees and looked under the couch. My mother came into the room and asked me, "What are you doing?"
"Looking for my bottle of vodka."
"Why do you need a bottle of vodka?"
"Because I'm an alcoholic, " I replied.

It took me two more years to sober up. But I digress.

Within the last few years, A new scenario has been added to my anxiety mise en scene. To wit, I'm in an ill equipped sewing room and I need to make 2 dozen tailcoats by tomorrow afternoon. Or, The opera is tonight and six costumes for the diva are cut out but not stitched together. I still have Can't Find My Shoe dreams, too, but interestingly enough, while dreaming I am am able to say "Oh well, it doesn't matter, I'll go barefoot." The costume situation always gets resolved somehow and I never panic or freak-out.

I'm attributing that reaction to the antidepressant / anti-anxiety medz I've been on for the last few years.

And now I have bunny and/or small critter dreams. Just the other night, I dreamt that my spinners group and I had gotten stranded at our retreat for some ever-changing reason. Different measures were taken to get us out but something always happened that way laid our departure. Finally, after three days, I say desperately, " Okay. Everybody grab a bunny; we're walking back!"

That just sort of cracks me up.

If you've read this far, then here is the latest Murgie news. Seems that she sprouted two testicles in the last few days. Our Lady is now Lord Murgatroyd! That little dickens!

Film at eleven.