I had no idea.
I truly had no idea the depth of issues I have with the holiday season.
I am in a Christmas play. I'm the token Jew in the Avantguardians' "DaDa XMas". I was fine with the idea of singing altered XMas carols, and telling classic XMas stories in some DaDa/AvantGuard/Abstract way. Tom and Lisa have great ideas and I love the creative process of developing a show with them. I assumed the content would be irrelevant and that the process would be the point.
The trigger was our conversation about whether or not Christmas is a religious holiday. My opinion is that since it's based on a Christian construct about the fake birthday of Christ and some stolen Pagan rites and symbolism, it's a religiously-based holiday. It's a Christian holiday. Jews don't celebrate Christmas unless they have someone Christian in their family or unless they've developed some elaborate explanation of why celebrating Christmas is allowed even though they're really still Jews. Really. Muslims don't celebrate Christmas either (see above). Christmas is intrinsically Christian. It's about Christ. The name of the holiday even contains the dear Baby Jesus' last name, or whatever that is. Ok - not his last name, but the name by which Baby Jesus is alternatively known.
Tom and Lisa vehemently deny that Christmas is a Christian holiday, citing the examples of Pagan symbols and the inescapable conspicuous consumption of modern-day American XMas. Though I attempted to explain why Christmas is nonetheless a Christian holiday, they could not understand, or refused to agree with my reasoning. During the whole discussion I was surprised by my emotional reaction. I became rather upset and frustrated.
What the hell is frustrating about a difference of opinion among friends? I think I felt betrayed in a way. My friends and art-colleagues don't share my point of view and suddenly I was alone at the table arguing a point about which I was so clearly right, in my mind. My friends and art-colleagues are not religious, so their position is not founded upon any scriptural theory or some covert, open-armed-personal-saviour effort at converting me. Not only was I surprised at my own reaction, I was surprised that Tom and Lisa didn't immediately agree with me. The conversation then involved whether or not this was a "Jew thing" and I was being oversensitive or even paranoid.
"You're not paranoid if they really are after you, " I said to them.
"Exactly," Tom nodded.
Added to the mix is the fact that I quit smoking a few days ago and have cycling homicidal and suicidal ideations. Quitting closet smoking seems to have magnified these issues as well as my obsessions with everything else in life that could possibly be a source of depression. Who knew that two or three cigarettes a day could be so addictive? Who knew that removing such a small amount of some brain-altering chemical would have such a dramatic effect on my affect?
If smoking wasn't stinky and carcinogenic I probably wouldn't bother quitting. I've thought about continuing to smoke through the holidays, just out of spite. The question is - out of spite for whom? Plus, it will be just as difficult to quit in 2007 as it has been this horrid week of 2006. Maybe I could ask my shrink to add some nicotine to the daily dose of happy pills I ingest. Can you add tobacco to brownies?
Quitting smoking feels remarkably like going through a bad PMS day. Everything seems more irritating, and more urgent than usual. By January I will have forgotten all about the descriminatory practices of the Christmas revellers. During PMS days it's not that my issues are made up, it's just that they seem so IMPORTANT and overwhelming. So if I'm short on money, it seems like I'm BROKE and I'm NEVER going to have ANYTHING and might have to go on food stamps or welfare soon, and I'll never get to go on a vacation again, and my bills will never be paid....
Currently, my withdrawal symptoms are causing me to hate Christmas because I'm sure I'm permanently inadequate for my inability to buy the right presents. The nicotine-deprived voices in my head are also telling me that our Fundamentalist Christian culture is against me and it will only get worse. I'll probably end up in prison for not conforming. I'll have to become a handmaiden and have some rich Christian wife's children. No, actually, I'm too old. They'll just hang me as an example for the others. In fact, I'm too old to really make much of myself in this life, with or without the Fundamentalist Christian Handmaiden dilemma. It's too late. Oh, woe is me.... Alas... blah, blah, blah.
So that's the path my withdrawing neurons walk today. On the up-side, I have almost completed my first crocheted scarf. Red. A little bumpy and uneven. I'll say I meant it to look that way. Right now, though, I'm insanely craving just a little, itsy, bitsy, teenie, weeny, bitty, baby puff of a cigarette. Just one more. Just one more time.
"Jane says... Gonna kick tomorrow...." to quote Perry Farrell.
27 November 2006
11 November 2006
Quivering Quiverfull
Ok - I just learned about a new movement called the Quiverfull Movement. These are Christian people who've decided to try to have six or more children in order to contribute to the Evangelical Christian movement. Does bearing children and indoctrinating them equal evangelizing and converting non-Christians?
Here's a paragraph from the ToiletPaper blog that got me thinking about possibilities of countering this Quiverful movement:
Jeff Sharlet sent us this link to a Nation story about the "Quiverfull" movement among fundie Christian women who consider their vaginas God's house and having babies as a way of populating God's army. All kinds of terrifying quotes like these: "Tracie Moore, a 39-year-old midwife who lives in southern Kentucky, is mother to fourteen. Wendy Dufkin in Coxsackie has her thirteen." http://www.toiletpaperonline.com/index.php.
I'm thinking we should start a similar movement to forward the "Gay Agenda" and counter this growth of Christian soldier-babies. All I need is some gay sperm, and some willing, fertile lesbians. We'll breed and create armies of gay babies to fight with their Christian babies. This project is still in the primordial ooze stage, but I think I'm on to something with potential here. We could take out full-page ads, recruit people at the mall, convert adolescents with rock music, fog and lasers... speaking of which, did anyone see the live brodcast from New Life last week?
If any of my three or four readers have suggestions, let me know. Plus, if you want to be a part of this movement forward my blog address to everyone. We also have to come up with a name - like Quiverfull - but gay.
Here's a paragraph from the ToiletPaper blog that got me thinking about possibilities of countering this Quiverful movement:
Jeff Sharlet sent us this link to a Nation story about the "Quiverfull" movement among fundie Christian women who consider their vaginas God's house and having babies as a way of populating God's army. All kinds of terrifying quotes like these: "Tracie Moore, a 39-year-old midwife who lives in southern Kentucky, is mother to fourteen. Wendy Dufkin in Coxsackie has her thirteen." http://www.toiletpaperonline.com/index.php.
I'm thinking we should start a similar movement to forward the "Gay Agenda" and counter this growth of Christian soldier-babies. All I need is some gay sperm, and some willing, fertile lesbians. We'll breed and create armies of gay babies to fight with their Christian babies. This project is still in the primordial ooze stage, but I think I'm on to something with potential here. We could take out full-page ads, recruit people at the mall, convert adolescents with rock music, fog and lasers... speaking of which, did anyone see the live brodcast from New Life last week?
If any of my three or four readers have suggestions, let me know. Plus, if you want to be a part of this movement forward my blog address to everyone. We also have to come up with a name - like Quiverfull - but gay.
08 November 2006
Babies
Everyone I know is having babies.
Well, not everyone. Not the men, obviously. When their wives or girlfriends are having babies men like to boast about their masculine involvements and martyr-like tolerance of the hormonal swings and cravings. Who's doing all the real work, though?
In the past year, here are the babies who've come into my life:
1: My neighbor to the East had a baby - Kieran.
2: My neighbor to the West had a baby girl - Sylvie
3: My neighbor to the West is pregnant again - ? They thought, before Sylvie, that she couldn't get pregnant.
4: One coworker at Cedar Springs had a beautiful baby boy. Somehow she kept him safe inside her inspite of the agressive, violent children we worked with.
5, 6, 7, 8, 9: Four women I know well from a particular local group had bunches of babies in the past two years - Oliver, Ruby, Kennedy and a couple of others whose names I can't recall at the moment.
10. My brother's wife had a baby girl in July - Abigail.
11. My brother-in-not-law's (because the bigots in Colorado voted to define marriage as one man and one woman legally and will not allow me to recieve civil union benefits from my spouse) wife had a baby girl in August - Shayla.
12. My cousin by illegal marriage had a baby boy in October - Gavin.
Babies - similar to parasites while in the womb. It's not even a mutually beneficial situation, unless you consider the expectant joy and all that glowing. Well, and the loose, comfortable clothes. Okay, and the weight. I'd have an excuse for several months for gaining weight. Considering the constant drain on a woman's internal resources, the growth of a living organism inside her, feeding, bound by blood. Sounds like a horror film, really.
Babies - if I'm still fertile I should be able to sell my babies on Ebay.
Babies - I'm thinking of going out and getting really drunk so that Heidi and I can have a baby of our own. It seems to work for so many others.
Babies - why aren't they more like Octopi? What? Well - an octopus can exhale a lot of its water, make itself very thin, and get through tiny holes in coral reefs and such. Why didn't God or Allah or Yaweh or whatever higher power may exist make babies' heads more like Octopi so that they could become really narrow to make childbirth less painful? Yes, I've read about the Garden of Eden and the snake and all that.
Babies - I'm also thinking that if I get pregnant for some reason, somehow, someday that I should chain smoke so that the baby is really small and doesn't hurt so much coming out. I mean so that I don't hurt while it comes out.
Babies. So much to consider.
I'm kidding about the chain-smoking, in case you don't know me and are reading this. Sometimes I imagine that I'd like to have a child. Then I think about how messy my house is, and how much of an obligation dogs have been. I really love other people's children, though. We'll see.
Well, not everyone. Not the men, obviously. When their wives or girlfriends are having babies men like to boast about their masculine involvements and martyr-like tolerance of the hormonal swings and cravings. Who's doing all the real work, though?
In the past year, here are the babies who've come into my life:
1: My neighbor to the East had a baby - Kieran.
2: My neighbor to the West had a baby girl - Sylvie
3: My neighbor to the West is pregnant again - ? They thought, before Sylvie, that she couldn't get pregnant.
4: One coworker at Cedar Springs had a beautiful baby boy. Somehow she kept him safe inside her inspite of the agressive, violent children we worked with.
5, 6, 7, 8, 9: Four women I know well from a particular local group had bunches of babies in the past two years - Oliver, Ruby, Kennedy and a couple of others whose names I can't recall at the moment.
10. My brother's wife had a baby girl in July - Abigail.
11. My brother-in-not-law's (because the bigots in Colorado voted to define marriage as one man and one woman legally and will not allow me to recieve civil union benefits from my spouse) wife had a baby girl in August - Shayla.
12. My cousin by illegal marriage had a baby boy in October - Gavin.
Babies - similar to parasites while in the womb. It's not even a mutually beneficial situation, unless you consider the expectant joy and all that glowing. Well, and the loose, comfortable clothes. Okay, and the weight. I'd have an excuse for several months for gaining weight. Considering the constant drain on a woman's internal resources, the growth of a living organism inside her, feeding, bound by blood. Sounds like a horror film, really.
Babies - if I'm still fertile I should be able to sell my babies on Ebay.
Babies - I'm thinking of going out and getting really drunk so that Heidi and I can have a baby of our own. It seems to work for so many others.
Babies - why aren't they more like Octopi? What? Well - an octopus can exhale a lot of its water, make itself very thin, and get through tiny holes in coral reefs and such. Why didn't God or Allah or Yaweh or whatever higher power may exist make babies' heads more like Octopi so that they could become really narrow to make childbirth less painful? Yes, I've read about the Garden of Eden and the snake and all that.
Babies - I'm also thinking that if I get pregnant for some reason, somehow, someday that I should chain smoke so that the baby is really small and doesn't hurt so much coming out. I mean so that I don't hurt while it comes out.
Babies. So much to consider.
I'm kidding about the chain-smoking, in case you don't know me and are reading this. Sometimes I imagine that I'd like to have a child. Then I think about how messy my house is, and how much of an obligation dogs have been. I really love other people's children, though. We'll see.
Strange Ideas?
I was sitting in the bathroom yesterday... yes, on the toilet, at work. I suddenly imagined how horrible it would be if we didn't have bathrooms. Someone a couple of stalls down from me was peeing, really loudly, and it made me want to giggle. I always think it's funny when you can hear people doing their thing in the bathroom. I always think it's embarassing if someone else can hear me, so I guess it's silly that I want to laugh at the loudly-peeing woman in the other stall. Anyway, it occurred to me that it would be truly horrible if we had no public bathrooms in office buildings.
There would be an elaborate pulley & bucket system attached to the outside of skyscrapers. Waste would dump into tubes and then the buckets would hopefully be rinsed out before returning to the offices to be used again. Something like that. Can you say dysentery? Where would all the goo go? Where does the goo go now? To the spinach farms.
There would be an elaborate pulley & bucket system attached to the outside of skyscrapers. Waste would dump into tubes and then the buckets would hopefully be rinsed out before returning to the offices to be used again. Something like that. Can you say dysentery? Where would all the goo go? Where does the goo go now? To the spinach farms.
05 November 2006
Blow-By-Blow Service at New Life Church
Heheheheh - blow-by-blow - get it?
New Life Church has blessed us this morning with a live-feed of their service. My wife and I are watching their mesmerizing, horrifying indoctrination of the children present at the service, and the idiots who believe this crap. Basically, in my not so humble opinion, the New Life congregation is made up of people who either can't or don't want to think for themselves. Being a member of NewLife and the other mega-churches absolves one of all responsibility for self-determination.
The main pastor on stage today reminds me of the gay men I went to college with - in the theater department at NYU. Not everyone can make it on Broadway or in Hollywood. Jesus, we just thank you today for the musical and theatrical opportunities you have provided for the actors in our fold.
OK - one of the pastors on stage just said, during his introduction and explanation of why he's in Colorado Springs today, "I was jerked off a treadmill...". They just can't help it. Satan lures them and puts dicks in their mouths... oops, I mean, words in their mouths and treachery in their hearts. Jerked off. Ooops. Freudian slip.
There are thousands of people watching this service either to support the church in its time of need, or to watch in horror the cult-like followers, swaying, hands in the air. What's the difference between this and the Moonies? What's the difference between the New Life congregation and the followers of Hitler, or Jim Jones, or David Koresh?
The guy just called New Life a "non-denominational" church. I need a dictionary. I thought non-denominational meant that it would be inclusive of all religions. I don't see them welcoming Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus or Satanists in to worship the energies that rule the universe.
From www.dictionary.com:
American Heritage Dictionary
non·de·nom·i·na·tion·al (nnd-nm-nsh-nl) adj.
Not restricted to or associated with a religious denomination.
The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth EditionCopyright © 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company.Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.WordNet
non-denominational
nondenominational adj : not restricted to a particular religious denomination; "a nondenominational church"
WordNet ® 2.0, © 2003 Princeton University
Denomination
1. a religious group, usually including many local churches, often larger than a sect: the Lutheran denomination.
2. one of the grades or degrees in a series of designations of quantity, value, measure, weight, etc.: He paid $500 in bills of small denomination.
3. a name or designation, esp. one for a class of things.
4. a class or kind of persons or things distinguished by a specific name.
5. the act of naming or designating a person or thing.
[Origin: 1350–1400; ME denominacioun <>denominate) + -iōn- -ion]
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.0.1)Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.
Basically, the letter Haggard wrote in apology to his congregation states that he's been struggling against the horrible, evil part of himself all his life. He says he needs to be lovingly counselled, disciplined and corrected. LIKE ALL GOD-FORSAKEN HOMOS (my interpretation of what his letter really means). He says that by his example we can all learn how the sick and disheartened may be healed. WE CAN FIX THOSE SINNING HOMOS - AND I'LL SHOW YOU HOW!!! Ugh. He's horrible.
Haggard's wife wrote a letter too, to state and reinforce her love for Ted. I wonder if Ted's as good in bed with Gail as he was with his gay masseur. A lot of housewives do meth to lose weight and stay on top of all their wifely duties. Hmmm. She's a busy woman. Maybe she just needs a little extra impetus some mornings. Plus it's supposed to be great for your sex life. Or somethin'.
Enough for now. I have to do real life things, like get dressed, buy groceries, pay some bills. Too bad I'm not a better actress. I coulda made a fortune singing Christian songs and fooling my followers. Maybe it's not too late.
New Life Church has blessed us this morning with a live-feed of their service. My wife and I are watching their mesmerizing, horrifying indoctrination of the children present at the service, and the idiots who believe this crap. Basically, in my not so humble opinion, the New Life congregation is made up of people who either can't or don't want to think for themselves. Being a member of NewLife and the other mega-churches absolves one of all responsibility for self-determination.
The main pastor on stage today reminds me of the gay men I went to college with - in the theater department at NYU. Not everyone can make it on Broadway or in Hollywood. Jesus, we just thank you today for the musical and theatrical opportunities you have provided for the actors in our fold.
OK - one of the pastors on stage just said, during his introduction and explanation of why he's in Colorado Springs today, "I was jerked off a treadmill...". They just can't help it. Satan lures them and puts dicks in their mouths... oops, I mean, words in their mouths and treachery in their hearts. Jerked off. Ooops. Freudian slip.
There are thousands of people watching this service either to support the church in its time of need, or to watch in horror the cult-like followers, swaying, hands in the air. What's the difference between this and the Moonies? What's the difference between the New Life congregation and the followers of Hitler, or Jim Jones, or David Koresh?
The guy just called New Life a "non-denominational" church. I need a dictionary. I thought non-denominational meant that it would be inclusive of all religions. I don't see them welcoming Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus or Satanists in to worship the energies that rule the universe.
From www.dictionary.com:
American Heritage Dictionary
non·de·nom·i·na·tion·al (nnd-nm-nsh-nl) adj.
Not restricted to or associated with a religious denomination.
The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth EditionCopyright © 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company.Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.WordNet
non-denominational
nondenominational adj : not restricted to a particular religious denomination; "a nondenominational church"
WordNet ® 2.0, © 2003 Princeton University
Denomination
1. a religious group, usually including many local churches, often larger than a sect: the Lutheran denomination.
2. one of the grades or degrees in a series of designations of quantity, value, measure, weight, etc.: He paid $500 in bills of small denomination.
3. a name or designation, esp. one for a class of things.
4. a class or kind of persons or things distinguished by a specific name.
5. the act of naming or designating a person or thing.
[Origin: 1350–1400; ME denominacioun <>denominate) + -iōn- -ion]
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.0.1)Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.
Basically, the letter Haggard wrote in apology to his congregation states that he's been struggling against the horrible, evil part of himself all his life. He says he needs to be lovingly counselled, disciplined and corrected. LIKE ALL GOD-FORSAKEN HOMOS (my interpretation of what his letter really means). He says that by his example we can all learn how the sick and disheartened may be healed. WE CAN FIX THOSE SINNING HOMOS - AND I'LL SHOW YOU HOW!!! Ugh. He's horrible.
Haggard's wife wrote a letter too, to state and reinforce her love for Ted. I wonder if Ted's as good in bed with Gail as he was with his gay masseur. A lot of housewives do meth to lose weight and stay on top of all their wifely duties. Hmmm. She's a busy woman. Maybe she just needs a little extra impetus some mornings. Plus it's supposed to be great for your sex life. Or somethin'.
Enough for now. I have to do real life things, like get dressed, buy groceries, pay some bills. Too bad I'm not a better actress. I coulda made a fortune singing Christian songs and fooling my followers. Maybe it's not too late.
25 October 2006
Happy Happy Childhood
I had a happy childhood. Didn't I?
I had food and clothing and shelter and love.
I had a brother, a mother, a father and a dog.
I had hamsters and hermit crabs and fish now and then.
I was allergic to the cat so it was sent away.
We collected frogs.
We listened to Elvis.
We slid down the stairs on a pillow.
We pretended to be adults.
We swam in the ocean.
We played in the snow.
We fought over bubble wrap.
We took car trips in the yellow station wagon with "wood" siding. We fought and played in the back seat. My parents put the back seats down, so that we had a flat area to lay on, stretched out, to nap or read.
There were no restricting, binding car seats then. Or maybe there were. Parents were just not as concerned about children's safety.
No helmets, no child-car-seats, no baby monitors.
We lived through it anyway.
A lot of us.
Enough of us.
Maybe subconsciously I believed my parents were trying to kill me and that scarred my soul.
I doubt it.
Maybe my mother's chain smoking affected me as a fetus, and the withdrawal symptoms, followed by constant second hand smoke, caused my brain and CNS to develop into the system of an addict, which I am.
Maybe she has nothing to do with it.
I doubt it.
Chain-smokers should teach their infants to smoke so that the poor creatures won't go through withdrawal!
Ok, not really.
I've considered chain smoking through pregnancy - I mean, if I were pregnant - so that the baby would be really small and not hurt as much during delivery.
I also think that if I am still fertile, I should be able to have babies and sell them on Ebay.
Right now the only limitation is a lack of sperm.
Plus, after nine months I might develop some affection for the parasite creature inside me and not want to sell it after all. And there I'd be, with no alternate financial plan, trying to support a child.
Ugh. Life.
Is bigger.
Bigger than you and you are not me.... la, la, la, la, la, la--------------
I had a happy childhood until I started therapy and realized how much angst I had collected about which to complain.
I had a happy childhood until I was encouraged to be angry about my parents' imperfections.
I had a happy childhood until it ended and I had to go out into the world unprepared.
At that point, in spite of all the schooling and therapy and achievements, I regretted leaving my happy childhood behind.
I had food and clothing and shelter and love.
I had a brother, a mother, a father and a dog.
I had hamsters and hermit crabs and fish now and then.
I was allergic to the cat so it was sent away.
We collected frogs.
We listened to Elvis.
We slid down the stairs on a pillow.
We pretended to be adults.
We swam in the ocean.
We played in the snow.
We fought over bubble wrap.
We took car trips in the yellow station wagon with "wood" siding. We fought and played in the back seat. My parents put the back seats down, so that we had a flat area to lay on, stretched out, to nap or read.
There were no restricting, binding car seats then. Or maybe there were. Parents were just not as concerned about children's safety.
No helmets, no child-car-seats, no baby monitors.
We lived through it anyway.
A lot of us.
Enough of us.
Maybe subconsciously I believed my parents were trying to kill me and that scarred my soul.
I doubt it.
Maybe my mother's chain smoking affected me as a fetus, and the withdrawal symptoms, followed by constant second hand smoke, caused my brain and CNS to develop into the system of an addict, which I am.
Maybe she has nothing to do with it.
I doubt it.
Chain-smokers should teach their infants to smoke so that the poor creatures won't go through withdrawal!
Ok, not really.
I've considered chain smoking through pregnancy - I mean, if I were pregnant - so that the baby would be really small and not hurt as much during delivery.
I also think that if I am still fertile, I should be able to have babies and sell them on Ebay.
Right now the only limitation is a lack of sperm.
Plus, after nine months I might develop some affection for the parasite creature inside me and not want to sell it after all. And there I'd be, with no alternate financial plan, trying to support a child.
Ugh. Life.
Is bigger.
Bigger than you and you are not me.... la, la, la, la, la, la--------------
I had a happy childhood until I started therapy and realized how much angst I had collected about which to complain.
I had a happy childhood until I was encouraged to be angry about my parents' imperfections.
I had a happy childhood until it ended and I had to go out into the world unprepared.
At that point, in spite of all the schooling and therapy and achievements, I regretted leaving my happy childhood behind.
13 October 2006
Triskadekaphobic Dreams
I dreamt I had inherited pet monkey-creatures. They resembled ferrets, but with long arms and legs. Really, they were like those stuffed animal monkeys with velcro on the hands and feet that can hang around your neck. They had long claws so that I had to be very still in order to let them climb on me. Otherwise they'd get nervous and cause scratches.
I dreamt also that I was with my Aunt Phyllis and my brother, Dan, and we stopped by Cedar Springs. My father was there as well. My brother was in some sort of depression and after chatting with my father, decided to stay at Cedar Springs for a while. In the dream he was a teenageer, not an adult. He talked for a long time with Rodney, an artist friend. Rodney, in the dream, was some sort of therapist. I knew that he could help my brother while Dan was in the psych hospital. The check-in process took a long, long time. Phyllis was annoyed and restless. I went down to the library on the hospital campus and looked at CD's. I talked to someone about a particular Jazz artist, and how Jazz had sort of fallen out of fashion recently. After long time I went to speak with Rodney about my brother. He was very sensitive and reassuring about the situation and my brother's mental health. That was comforting. Because Phyllis was so annoyed, but only expressing that non-verbally, which was just making me angry, I told her to go ahead and leave. I assumed she wanted to go shopping or to a movie and was irritated that we'd wasted all day waiting around for my brother. She left. I knew I could get a ride from Rodney or someone else at the hospital.
In another dream last night I was in the military, as was Heidi. We had gotten in trouble for drug possession and were just waiting for them to process the evidence for drug residue. We didn't want to go to prison or ComCor, so we snuck into the investigation lab, stole the evidence and threw the containers into the incinerator outside the lab. We were seen by officers. We ran to our Subaru Outback and tried to get away. The tv inside the car was playing my friend Ruth's comedy hour. We came upon a very steep, icy hill and could not get all the way up it because the car didn't have 4-wheel drive. We slid back down, got out and tried to run. Heidi was caught, but I got away. They arrested her and she again awaited prosecution and punishment. 5 years in prison.... I felt so guilty that I returned to the base and turned myself in. Heidi, by that time, was living with another woman, her new best friend, a pretty, petite Latina woman, with a convincing, loathing glare. I tried to apologize and they let me stay in the room with them, but neither one was friendly. During this part of the dream we made t-shirts with hand-painted tattoo designs on them.
That's all I remember.
My vivid dreams are far more intriguing sometimes than real life.
I dreamt also that I was with my Aunt Phyllis and my brother, Dan, and we stopped by Cedar Springs. My father was there as well. My brother was in some sort of depression and after chatting with my father, decided to stay at Cedar Springs for a while. In the dream he was a teenageer, not an adult. He talked for a long time with Rodney, an artist friend. Rodney, in the dream, was some sort of therapist. I knew that he could help my brother while Dan was in the psych hospital. The check-in process took a long, long time. Phyllis was annoyed and restless. I went down to the library on the hospital campus and looked at CD's. I talked to someone about a particular Jazz artist, and how Jazz had sort of fallen out of fashion recently. After long time I went to speak with Rodney about my brother. He was very sensitive and reassuring about the situation and my brother's mental health. That was comforting. Because Phyllis was so annoyed, but only expressing that non-verbally, which was just making me angry, I told her to go ahead and leave. I assumed she wanted to go shopping or to a movie and was irritated that we'd wasted all day waiting around for my brother. She left. I knew I could get a ride from Rodney or someone else at the hospital.
In another dream last night I was in the military, as was Heidi. We had gotten in trouble for drug possession and were just waiting for them to process the evidence for drug residue. We didn't want to go to prison or ComCor, so we snuck into the investigation lab, stole the evidence and threw the containers into the incinerator outside the lab. We were seen by officers. We ran to our Subaru Outback and tried to get away. The tv inside the car was playing my friend Ruth's comedy hour. We came upon a very steep, icy hill and could not get all the way up it because the car didn't have 4-wheel drive. We slid back down, got out and tried to run. Heidi was caught, but I got away. They arrested her and she again awaited prosecution and punishment. 5 years in prison.... I felt so guilty that I returned to the base and turned myself in. Heidi, by that time, was living with another woman, her new best friend, a pretty, petite Latina woman, with a convincing, loathing glare. I tried to apologize and they let me stay in the room with them, but neither one was friendly. During this part of the dream we made t-shirts with hand-painted tattoo designs on them.
That's all I remember.
My vivid dreams are far more intriguing sometimes than real life.
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