"Crazy bus, crazy bus, riding on a crazy bus!" - Dream (Part 2)

After waking up confused and soon drifting off to sleep again I began to have a longer more deranged dream. I will cut to the chase on this one:

During the main part of the dream I boarded a city bus for an unknown reason.

I looked around the bus, it was as if I had entered a time warp, all the people on board were in black and white and dressed as if they were in the 1950s. There were all types of odd characters. On the right wall near the front there was a man with shifty eyes and slicked back hair and a popped collar on his coat, he was smoking a cigarette and seemed on edge. Above his head appeared a label, it read; "Coke fiend". The sketchy character snarled at me, curling his upper lip, and I moved away.

The back of the bus was packed with passengers, many of which were excitable and jumping around like hyper children coming home from school. In actuality they were all middle aged adults, but their faces were old high school pictures as if cut straight out of a year book. The pictures were either black and white or an odd pinkish- red tint, as some photographs of poor quality sometimes do. They were all tripping on substances, a few were hanging between seats like monkeys, others sitting quietly, some gossiping in groups etc. Everyone was having a wonderful and apparently trippy time.

The girls/women wore dresses with stockings and back shoes, and they wore their hair curled at the bottom, and clipped in the back as you often see in photographs. They were all smiling according to their grade 12 photographs that were seemingly stuck above their shoulders. The men had slicked back hair. They wore blazers and had dopey, carefree smiles for the most part, although some modeled sexified smirks.

The bus rocked slightly and a scary man boarded. He was at first expected to be a police officer
( I don't recall his appearance). The passengers and I were frozen, terrified that we would all be charged with drug possession (though I was totally clean and sober). However he himself was high on Cocaine and incredibly violent.

This man roared up and down the isle in a fierce frenzy, lashing out on passengers on the bus. His eyes were blood shot and when he crossed my path he hurt me. I'm not sure what he did but he made my stomach bleed. Though I don't recall him having a weapon he may have stabbed me.. and upon waking and recording this dream I also guessed he may have bit me. Some man yelled out in fright or impatience perhaps "Dudeeee, what are you ON".

This man did his damage and suddenly disappeared from the scene. I now was in a frenzy! I ran up and down the isle looking for comfort from a stranger. It was as if I was trying to choose the safest, most reliable one. I examined each person closely. I started to cry out in a whinny, distressed , 50's girl's voice that you might expect one of the Pink Ladies in Grease to have. I shrieked; "He got my stomach Johnny! He got my stomach! Ohhhhh, my stomach!!" dramatically.

I feel into a few mens arms one after another as if to try them out. I looked at a few women for comfort but the women seemed stupefied by the situation and the men seemed eager to take advantage me because of the situation. They looked devilish and dirty minded, as if they were about to pat their lap for me to sit on at any moment. They smirked sexually and winked at each other, as if one would get some. As if this was some sort of game.

It was very odd indeed.

The dream ended abruptly. My anxiety died down after charging the isle a few times, and then the bus stopped. Everyone was sober now and we all walked normally of the bus as if nothing had happened and onto the street. People looked as if they could have been heading to work as perfect citizens, and my stomach seemed to be perfectly healed...

Drugged Pierogis? Last night's crazy dream (Part 1)

I'll keep this short and sweet but last night I had another bizarre dream come to me in the early hours of the morning.

In the first segment of the dream (before waking) I was sitting upstairs in my brothers old room from his childhood. Our home was acting as a meeting place for some type of important government conference. However not much work seemed to be getting done as the "conference" had gotten quite wild and out of hand, and was more like a crazy party then anything. Perhaps this is what middle aged, white, wealthy, government officials do at their "conferences"- cut loose? :)

I was in this room as a guest to a man's dinner party, he was Polish, about 50 maybe, and wearing a business suit. I sat at the table with him, and two other men at a small round table crammed into this old, bare room. He served us each a few pierogis and quickly the other guests picked up the dumplings and chowed down. Inside the pierogi the potato was more yellow in color and sloppier then usual. The stuffing reminded me of lemon yellow pudding. I hesitated in eating the dinner, but soon began to eat as well.

A few moments after I began to eat the other guests and the Polish man began to act peculiar. They were moving slowly and acting dopey. The other guests were becoming very lazy. It was if the effort of moving was so strenuous that they were unable to achieve the simple act of bringing food to their mouths. They slowly succeeded in bring the dumplings to their mouths, but with no coordination left in their suddenly drugged-like being they would without exception miss their mouth and the pierogi would land smooshed on their cheek.

Soon I too was acting peculiar. Everything was moving in slow motion and I began to lose control of my body's movements and I lost all balance. I flailed my arms but it looked more as if I were doing some sort of psychedelic, trance, dance then anything because of the intense lagging of my movements. It felt as if the air was so dense that I was fighting a heavy current that was flowing through the air. However gravity had ceased around my lower torso and I was feeling very light and tipsy. I suddenly tipped sideways to the right and fell off my small, brown, wooden, kitchen chair ( I remember this perfectly) hitting the cold, blue, hard wood floor with a 'thump'. Something that should of hurt but didn't because of a sort of numbness in my bottom. I was so tired, and I think I may have been laughing.

And with this thud I awoke. That was all that there was to that!

Lech Kaczynski is this what you do for fun? Serve designer drugs to your destinguished guests at important business meetings? Shame on you sir!
Lech Kaczynski: "Doh". :)

My new neighbors.

A few weeks ago I had noticed some sounds coming from inside my wall. I didn't think too much of it, I assumed it was mice since I live in a very old country home. I went away for a while and when I came back the sound was gone. Well this week I started seeing a Starling flying past my window, and I thought I must be going crazy! Because it looked like it was landing near by.. but I couldn't see where it was going as it would slightly turn the corner of the house, just out of my eyesight, before landing. Two days ago I started hearing baby chirps coming from somewhere. I looked out the window to see nothing, I put my ear to the wall and could hear their hungry chirps loud and clear. Yes, I have new neighbors, a family of Starlings! I am just ecstatic, I couldn't ask for better company!

I now watch the mother swoop in daily, and excite to hear the baby birds chirping with pleasure at the arrival of food. I press my hear to the wall to hear the babies with more intimacy.

It's just lovely. Pressing my ear against the wall I feel as if I am listening into a mothers womb. Sometimes I play notes of my wooden flute and wonder if they can hear me.. other times while they are quiet I will selfishly tap on the wall in hopes of wakening them for company. However most of the time I just lie quietly myself, ear to the wall, calmly listening in, waiting for the mother return. It's almost as if I am babysitting the little ones.

Today I brought my cat in to listen . He laid on my bed relaxing until he heard the chirping of the family, then he perked his ears up, widened his eyes, and ran to the window without understanding that he was right beside the birds all along. Silly cat. As I expected he quite enjoys the ins and out of the daily life of the Starlings, almost as much as I do. :) He may be catching on some what now though. He watches the mother fly in and out, I expect that he can see the entrance since he has the advantage of a lower view then I. It's something that we can share together now.

We're quite lucky to have such interesting neighbors to ease drop on!

A random narrative I wrote late last night..

" I'm a conflicted individual. Very much in my own head, often self-evaluating. As a result I'm noticeably self aware.

I'm another member of the masses that is intensely interested and involved in self improvement you see. Just another piece of the targeted audience for women's magazines. Except, as a feminist, I make a point not to buy "women's" magazines because I find them highly unpractical and bad for a women's image due to the atrocious way they tend to generalize. But mostly I can't stand the way they take advantage of women's low self esteem for sales. I find it disgusting, besides the lists of goals in those pieces of junk are impracticable and damaging to the feminine psyche.. So I make my own lists.. of potentially damaging goals for becoming the perfect woman to stress over... I told you I was a conflicted individual!

I keep track of my goals by cataloging them in little books that I buy from the local office supply store every so often. I log and review in these books daily in addition to maintaining a calendar, blog, written journal and a daily turn over of To-do lists that I keep posted on the fridge. Maybe it's damaging but I think it keeps me focused and motivated. My web of goals is an art. An obsession. I don't know what I would do with out those small cluttered pages to keep me in line and thinking. My life, the way I see it, is like a long tangled path of tall weeds that I wade through. But I wade through them with happiness. I wouldn't call the situation a mess, I would call it a pleasure and a privilege. You see my quest for a better me isn't something I wish to revise, I look at it as charming, a gift even. It's helps me to appreciate life and become a stronger person. As I achieve another task I magically transform the tall, thorny weed standing in front of me into a small, beautiful flower. I pat it on the head and proudly make my way around it to the next raspberry cane, rose bush or thistle blocking me . It's as if I were a robot picking up better pieces of machinery to renovate it's self with as it gets older. It's what most people do, some just don't take notice of the process because they're not self aware- like me.

Though I may take the process too far at times with my system for productivity.
I'm a self confessed, goal obsessed, list fanatic, budding perfectionist.
....Should that bother me? Some times it does because I don't want to turn into my mother- which is also on my list- 'don't turn into my mother'. But if I were to try and stop being a perfectionist then that would have to be added to the list too.. and there are only so many spots available! Because I only give myself so many goals so I don't become too overwhelmed..because I don't want to get stressed because if I do I will surely BURN OUT. And not burning out is also on my list. 'Don't burn out'! Burning out is like .. well the devil or death or something. If I am to burn out, I'll never get anything done! It's like the end of the road. A hard, painful fall into the thorny, tangled bush that lay ahead of me hungry and waiting for my eventual failure.

Failure.. oh God.. I shutter at the thought. "