I read that I'm not unusual for the times. People are sleeping badly and having unusual dreams, some of them nightmares. We are also, probably, remembering dreams more because we don't have to set an alarm clock.
I've tried to keep to a normal schedule and get out at least five days a week for a walk of about a mile in the sunlight and air. It's actually been a very beautiful spring. The air is good. The sky is exceptionally blue. There are clouds. These things are special in Southern California.
I have my dog who is now a slower, aging dog, as well. The soothing and stroking I give her should be therapeutic and she's an excellent excuse for being outside. I love her.
I've gone into my sewing supplies and hand stitched a few masks. I hate wearing them because I feel that the air I'm breathing in is probably more of my own exhaled air than usual. Maybe that's a factor in feeling that I'm actually fighting depression and tears. Out the door I go with my face swathed in one of my obviously hand-made masks. Taking suburban streets means that I'm not encountering many other humans and can lift the mask to actually breath the good air.
Yesterday I shampooed and conditioned my dog. She slept soundly after that. She ate her dinner while I had mine.
Last night I had a wonderful and nutritious dinner. Kale salad. An omelet with some good cheese melted inside. Nuts. I slipped her a teaspoon of the omelet.
When I went to bed, I heard a helicopter circling around the neighborhood to one side of me. Someone with an app that tells you what's going on with the circling helicopter told me it was about a car theft. Let's just say that the neighborhood the helicopter was over has a couple banks but few cars worth stealing. Unless you've gone Coronavirus-19 Crazy. These helicopters are extremely expensive to operate and are usually taken out for murderer on foot. I figured that the news of a car theft on this app of hers was either wrong or there's so little crime right now that they thought they'd take up a helicopter to stay in practice. This helicopter also circled for at least two hours, maybe three. Tell me how long it takes for a car thief to park and get out of a car.
I lay there trying to sleep. I got up and went out the front door and looked into the sky to see the copter. Yea, it was black and white - police.
Around 4:30 in the morning I awakened to my dog heaving all over the sheets. I could tell without putting on the lights that this was no small heave. I took her into my arms and put her outside a while. She went out but seemed, well, hangdog. When she came back in she drank a lot of water. Then she threw up on the floor. Another expansive puddle.
I didn't think I would get back to sleep and I did not. My dog was sick. She threw up like a human does with food poisoning. Repeatedly.
As the dawn made it's way into the bedroom window, I got up to look for rags, and begin what turned into a half a day clean up, locating puddles of throw up on various floor surfaces, mopping with rags, trying to at least soap the areas for sanitation. I removed sheets and padding and blankets from the bed. I had to hand scrub the puke before putting into the washing machine. I noticed that the 4:30 heave must have been explosive. Some was on the wall and more on the floor. It contained a lot of undigested chunks of kibble as well as some digested. Oh, Lord.
I got depressed.
Last week I'd called the vet to see about a possible flea shot and was told that they were closed until further notice. This is no time to try to locate an open vet, who is also a more expensive and unfamiliar vet.
I got on line to look for a home remedy. Luckily I had a small container of goat milk in the fridge and I gave her a small amount, followed by a tiny bit of kibble.
I held her in my arms and moved her bed, freshly made, near where I sat, looking for a good documentary for later. She finally settled in.
The whole time thought I was thinking about the horrible dream I was having and woke from at 4:30. I was on line looking for dream interpretations.
In my dream appeared an old friend I haven't seen in years, a person who I know a lot about that I would probably never tell anyone, but who turned his life around from the time I knew him. He is, I hear, probably the most successful person, at least financially, in his graduating class. When he appeared, seeming to visit me, I felt emotional, rather honored. There was a lot of chaos in the form of people I didn't know moving around in the setting, but I was conscious that I was carrying some items close to my chest, a couple notebooks or ledgers of some sort which I knew were important, my cell phone (which is turned off), and a pair of shoes I own which are extremely comfortable but dilapidated sandals (that need to be replaced as soon as I can go shoe shopping) as well as a pair of strappy sandals with chunky two inch heels, obviously new, and bright gold. My old friend hands me a crisp new $100 bill which I don't want to take.
I somehow know this is a dream but there are mental processes involved such as awareness of my emotions, which become less enthusiastic about this meet up when I realize that it will be no more than this interaction, that he cannot hang out. He just lost $2000 this day at his business. Take the money. Don't want to. But it's not much money to him. But he just lost $2000. He has no time. I tell him, "but I just sent you a gift and now you are giving it back!" Am I shamed into taking the hundred? Are we even? He has to go?
He leaves me disappointed. In this chaos I first realize I lost the cell phone.
I then realize I lost the important papers. Finally, I see that the floor is flooding and that one of the gold shoes is floating away. I have one gold shoe and the dilapidated sandals still close to my chest.
Have at it as you will.
According to various internet resources about dreams, this dream is all bad news, especially about financial loses, and loosing direction. A symbol of great financial success only wants to pay me a brief visit.
How did I create this dream?
It is, not unusual for the times though.
Now I'm going on my walk.
C 2020 Christine Trzyna
All Rights Reserved
