Weird Dreams. Boss Talk. Ireland. Intergalactic Friends. Dead Friends. Dead Celebrities. No Std's. Especially Herpes. This House Is Clean. Rhyme Scheme.

I really, really miss my coffee shop on a weekday morning. I miss writing, even if no one reads it. It just feels good to do. So, I'm going to write a bunch of mismatched stuff here, maybe find the common thread that is making my mind show them all to me at once, then I'm going to fall asleep in front of this documentary about Bobby Sands' hunger strike. Because I can, and I'm learning that it's good to indulge in things you love when you get a moment.

***Dreams***

I've had strange dreams recently. I decided to take a little break from true crime because it kept giving me nightmares, and those are no fun. So now my dreams are back to abnormal. A couple of nights ago, I dreamt that this strange mix between Elizabeth Gilbert and Charlize Theron was my friend but we were almost twins (my hair was a short blonde bob to match hers, we dressed alike, and we looked almost identical in the dream). I said something to her that she took the wrong way, and she jumped to conclusions accusing me of all this weird stuff and then yelled at me and threw a big fit and ended our friendship. I was like, are you serious? That's not even remotely what I meant, I can't believe this. 

Pretty solid dream to kick off Mercury Retrograde, which is when miscommunications, misunderstandings, technical glitches, and revisiting whatever bullshit was going on in your life six months prior is all the rage. So, basically I was looking in a mirror and reminding myself not to freak out about things that are pure conjecture on my part. Which I never do. (Jk I do that literally all the time when I'm feeling emotionally vulnerable. Hey, I'm only human. I think. Pretty sure. That's what they tell me.) So, thanks, subconscious. Is it subconscious or unconscious? Who cares.

Then last night, I had a dream that I was house-sitting for some rich guy, and he gave me the key to his home, and the inside of the house was outside. It was almost like a tiny park or a private garden. The temperature was perfect. The grass was green and soft. There was a big tree. The edges of everything except the grass and the tree were kind of blurred and shimmering. The light was like a late afternoon in spring or summer, but you couldn't see the sun itself so it never shone too much in your eyes. I stayed in/out there the whole time. It was amazing because it was outside but not at all chilly, and totally safe. It was outside, inside. The inside was outside. It was so beautiful that when the owners came home I kind of refused to leave? A little bit? Like, I just didn't give the key back. They were starting to get annoyed. But I decided that they didn't appreciate or need it as much as I did, and I had started bringing friends over, one at a time, to show it to them. I was like, "Look at this garden, it's amazing, feel how soft the grass is! You can just live here, man, nobody can see you or attack you or anything! I slept out here all week! Isn't it beautiful?" One visitor, a stranger I only knew in the dreamtime, asked, "How do you get the edges to blur like that in the distance?" and I said, "It just does that naturally!" 

Wait, as I'm typing this I'm starting to wonder if I did some kind of weird dimension-hopping thing in my sleep, because it's starting to sound like an episode of Black Mirror if it was written by Carl Jung. Or like an Irish fairy tale. Or an Icelandic hidden people tale. I did have a wild dream about that world back in the day. There was golden light but no sun there, too. Hmmmm...

Moving on! 

The second part of the dream, I was suddenly in the ocean. It was warm, there were a lot of waves that were basically pure white foam. I decided to try and ride one to shore. I started to swim and poked my head above water and turned to look at where I was, and I was inside a perfect tube wave. I've always wanted to learn to surf so I could do the thing where they surf inside the tube and reach out and skim their hand along the wall of water as they ride. So I did that in the dream, I reached out and touched the wall of water as I basically body-surfed. It was heavenly. I was thinking that my father would be so proud of me for doing that, and I couldn't wait to tell him about it. (Not sure what in particular made me think of him then.) I kind of felt like I was in Hawaii. Anyway, then that happy moment ended, and I was underwater again. I somehow managed to hold my breath, and every time I came up for air there was another crashing foam-white wave hitting me. I thought to myself, "Oh, I might actually drown now," but I was calm. I kept waiting to drown, but I kept getting little breaths of air and I didn't feel any discomfort yet. The last thing I remember were just more foam waves knocking into me and pushing me under the water and calmly waiting to see if I was going to drown or not. 

*** My Boss Had A Talk With Me***

My boss is a very kind woman who is super calm and stable in her energy. She's kind of like a Texan hippie type who is very together and therapeutic, but strong. She's definitely younger than my parents but a little too young to be my mom. She could probably be my mom if she had been a teenager when I was born, I'm guessing. So she's not the kind of older hippie type who looks really frail and barely there. She looks like a Texan ranch daughter who happens to be very in-tune and holistic. She wears fleece or leather jackets and cowboy boots. 

Anyway.

She sat down with me to talk about strategies to help my almost-four-year-old daughter adjust to having me in the classroom with her in a teaching role rather than as just her mom. She had a good day today, but it's been hard for us both to be in the same classroom, but for me to be working and helping other children and not just spending time with her. 

So we talked about that, and we talked about my dual role as the parent of a child in the community and as an employee, and how to navigate that. It turns out that she's trained as a social worker in addition to being a trained Montessori guide, so now EVERYTHING about her makes sense. She can calm down a kid who's freaking out in mere seconds. It's fascinating to watch her. She has this personal power that is so grounded and that she just somehow quietly amplifies at the drop of a hat. I learn a lot just by observing her. 

So then she said she wanted to talk to me about time, because she's noticed that I struggle with being prompt. My eternal struggle. Because she's so understanding and intuitive, I was able to open up and be honest with her about how I genuinely don't feel time passing instinctively the way many people seem to, how I bought a watch but my daughter accidentally broke the wristband, how I need alone time at night to decompress but it makes the mornings difficult, how hectic the morning routine has become since my child started going to the school where I work, etc. She really listened and gave me some good tips for working with my "parenting partner," as she put it, to find some solutions for preparing things the night before. 

I also told her about my marriage coming to an end and how we really need to unify on our parenting strategies and routines and things before we move to separate homes this summer. She shared with me that she divorced her child's father when her child was four, and that her child was at her school too at the same age. She says that her child is grown now and she and her ex still have a very good parenting partnership. It made me feel really good to see what is possible about a decade and the half down the road from where I am. And it felt really good to have her relate to what I said about time and following the clock, because most people just seem to think I'm an airhead idiot who is too lazy to get her act together, or something along those lines. But I'm not! It's really difficult for me! And there are others like me out there. We feel the flow of the day more than the ticking of the clock. It's a thing. I promise. 

So, what could have been a very stressful and embarrassing conversation ended up being so supportive and enlightening. I feel much better, and I'm glad that I stayed on after a rocky first couple of months in the job. 

*** Ireland. Weird Vision. Poultice. Intergalactic Soul Sister. ***

The other night I was over at my parents' house and they were watching The Quiet Man on television. It was near the end. That movie's a family favorite, we always watch it once a year. My dad's a big John Wayne fan, so we've got a few of his old movies in the rotation that bring back fond memories and that we quote regularly. It was so nice to see it, it takes place in Ireland, and things about Ireland keep coming up and I find myself daydreaming a lot about it. I think because it reminds me of Iceland, but it feels safer to think about than Iceland. Weirdly, the land of my birth has become a place that's synonymous with like, embarrassment and rejection on a number of levels. (Thanks, divorce!) A few weeks ago I got a bug up my ass about something or another, I genuinely cannot remember what it was, and I kind of said to myself, "You know what, I'm not Icelandic anymore. I'm just going to stop all that. I'm over it, I'm done." Right away, this quiet voice in my head whispered, "Can you really say that?" and showed me some images of just the land itself. And for a moment, I could feel it. The way it feels when you're all alone out there. The black rocks jutting out of soft green. Could see the wind blowing the grass. I swear for a moment I even smelled it. And more than that, I could feel... (this is gonna sound very "me," or whatever, but I don't care)... I could feel the spirits in the land. Like, how... and I know it's not just me because my dad has felt it too... you can be standing out there and you're quite alone, but you suddenly get that spooky feeling that someone's right behind you. Or right next to you. I once walked back towards my car after spending some time out there by myself, and actually said out loud, "Excuse me," because I felt like I was about to bump into someone. There was no one for miles. 

So anyway, that vision was so quick, just two flashes of landscape and the smell and the feeling, and the question, "Be careful, now. Can you really say that?" 

If someone had walked into the room just then, they would have seen me sitting on the couch with my eyes wide open staring vaguely ahead and my mouth open a little bit, like I was... what's a good word... agape. (English agape, not Greek agape.) I get a lot of visions, that's kind of my whole, like, experience here on Earth, but there haven't been many times where I'm fixated and agape like that just out of nowhere. From being all fussy and irritable to suddenly just stunned is rare.

So, I just kind of answered back, "No. I can't say that. Fine. I won't say it." 

I just need to disentangle more recent memories of petty cruelty and stress from the broader picture of the place that used to be my favorite in the world. And my great-grandmother did show me all my ancestors still hanging around there after all this time during my big channeling. Plus, my living family rocks. Although, I do have a feeling that our Irish cousins are warmer to strangers. I think they'e chattier and friendlier without having to have known you for a long time first. I've never been there, but I'd love to go. 

I feel like there was something else, but I can't remember. Probably just whining about wanting to live off the land and just like, be a good witch in a cottage making, like, soap and salves and, the occasional poultice. Because "poultice" is so fun to say. Pole-tiss. 

That reminds me of once when I was in the drive-thru of a pharmacy with my dead friend, back when he was still alive. I was picking up a topical medicine for something, but I can't remember what it was for. I know what y'all are thinking and it was not an std, I'll tell you that for free. I ain't got "the herp," as Dead Friend used to call it. 



 But anyway, I paused and said, "Uhh... Ointment?" Then we both burst out laughing because "ointment" is so fun to say. And he goes, "Wait, could she get that in an unguent?" And I go, "Actually no, could I get that in a poultice?" We could not stop laughing, and from then on, "Could I get that in a poultice?" was one of our inside jokes. I miss you, Dead Friend! The one we called Coyote. Hope you're okay, wherever you are. 

In one week, one of my Top Two All-Time Intergalactic Soul Sisters is visiting and that's almost like having a friend come back from the dead. I did the math and we haven't physically been in each other's presence for like, 12 years. Since San Fran. And until recently we hadn't talked in about 8 years. It's nuts! We're going to make so many videos because, like, we don't know how long it's going to be before we hang out again. Ever since I found out Dead Friend died, I don't take that stuff for granted anymore. I take too many pictures and videos and screen shots of special texts and all that stuff, and I don't care how dorky it is. Sometimes you need something like that to hold onto, like, those little reminders. Plus, it's fun! 

I can't wait! We basically need to just sit cross-legged across from each other and talk about Everything for a bare minimum of 48 hours. Also, it's going to be her birthday, so... You do not come to Inga's House on your Birthday without getting Special Treats! (emphasis mine) "So let it be written, so let it be done!" *clap clap*

Fun fact: I briefly had a crush on Yul Brynner when I was in fourth grade.
I also had crushes on Ricky Nelson and Elvis Presley in second and third grades.
Apparently, I had a thing for dead celebrities of the fifties and sixties as a small child.
I'm fine with it. It's fine.





































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