One more post … Turned into … One more post … And this time I mean it!
I am done.
Until this afternoon
When I will be crying in my Post Toastees
I read this yesterday How Much Do Dreams Affect You?
Well yesterday my time, versus 3:03 a.m. the author’s time which is how my comment is displayed. At 3:03 a.m. Central Standard Time (CST), I was snoring.
Rabbit hole alert!
I am no longer sure I am on CST. Dayum daylight (non-plural) saving time. Oh how I loathe thee. Also aren’t you awed and amazed at how connected we’ve become across geography all the while shrinking into ourselves and becoming hermits? I mean really y’all. Well the latter is what I do. I diminish into my head.
This was my comment – I think dreams are our subconscious at work. I don’t always remember mine. And even the ones I remember don’t affect me all day.
And don’t cha know that I remembered my dream from last night for the first time in ages. Or a short while. Or forever. I forget. Okay, I lied. I am the dream whisperer.
Lulu woke me at the pinnacle scene/dream sequence which might be why I remembered.
The dream was about things that have been stressing me … my lack of wardrobe (not that I am a diva, the opposite, my clothes are tattered) AND my health. In this dream, a dear sweet BFF from work was helping me find clothes that fit. I was telling her how I felt bad with my diagnosis of osteo-everything. She reminded me to give her the deets on the pharma and she’d ask her nurse sister (life imitating dream as we’ve discussed this before).
Next she was gone. Poof! And I was going to the doctor. A new one. Maybe has something to do with my rheumatologist appointment in April. My dream doctor turned out to be my nephew (who has distanced himself from all of us lately). Surprise! His office was atop a craggy mountain. I made my way to the precipice; then I saw him and started crying. He hugged me and looked over my shoulder commenting Who is he? I turn and to the right was my dearly departed brother but alive and well.
Dr. Nephew: Is that you I smell?
Bro: Maybe? Let’s try this again, shall we?
Deep inhale …
Me still crying: I know the smell is coming from me.
Dr. Nephew & Bro: Yes, Jill, we smell your disease.
Then I am AWAKE! OMGee!!!!! What can that mean?
Years back before Dan was officially diagnosed with lymphoma, his breath gave off a sort of sour yeasty smell. We often wonder if the diagnosis had been made then, would he have survived? And of course, now I am sure I am dying. Well what else is new?
This house is clean.
As always, more to come.
**** P.S. as an aside, would you have voted for this? Or is it a crap fest? Or somewhere in between? ****
I am gauging my appeal (or utter lack thereof). I am NOT breaking WRiTE Club rules. Cuz I am not promoting myself or any other writer. Also, I cannot not use this anyway since you can’t have posted the story anywhere else before, even on your blog.