"I don't want to cram in sex or guns or car chases or characters learning profound life lessons or growing or coming to like each other or overcoming obstacles to succeed in the end. The book isn't like that, and life isn't like that, it just isn't."
So I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that VoiceWatch 2007 is over. My voice has returned with a vengeance, despite some people’s intense wishes to the contrary (don’t think I didn’t know.) I was talking with someone on the phone and made a smart-assed remark, and he said, “I think I liked you better with laryngitis.” May you get your own bout with it so I can torture you with phone messages that say, “Hey, call me back. Oh, YOU CAN’T!”
This last week and a half has been hell. Nearly every single minute has been filled with havoc. I have been experiencing the Mercury Retrograde to end all retrogrades. Pretty much everything that could go wrong has, and though I feel things evening out a little more each day, I’m still sort of left with this feeling of… well, fear. A little despair. Granted, it’s not as bad as it was last year – my reaction, not the situation. The situation is 900 times worse. Yet for some reason, my reaction to it is way more level headed than last year. I was talking to the Hypnotherapist about this and he said, “Well that’s positive, isn’t it?” Yeah, it is… but I think, given the choice, that if it came down to massive freakouts and everything turning out fine versus calm, cool and collected and everything falling to shit, I’ll take the former, thanks. (Which isn’t to say that my situation is going to be shit forever. It just feels like that while I’m in it.)
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Anyway. Last night I had one of my trademark weird dreams, except lately my dreams have been telling me things. Seriously, in a freakish way. About six months ago I started having incredibly vivid dreams – which I’ve always had, but the difference is these ones featured characters who would speak directly to me and tell me things about whatever it was I was going through at that moment. I’ve been keeping a notebook by my bed so I can write everything down before I get out of bed and forget.
So last night’s dream was super strange. It started out in this haunted house. Anyone who knows me knows that I am not in any way, shape or form a fan of scary things. My first serious boyfriend made me watch Nightmare on Elm Street once, and I hated him for months afterward because I couldn’t sleep – I was terrified that my bed was going to swallow me, digest me and vomit me up onto the ceiling. Another boyfriend made me go through one of those cheeseball haunted houses on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, and I was so scared that I cried. So the fact that my dream started in a haunted house – and featured the boyfriend who forced me to go in it – is pretty symbolic.
There was tons of blood and gore going on, but strangely I couldn’t see anything clearly. I mean, it was dark and I could kind of see, but not clear enough that the gore was freaking me out. I was scared, but not to the point where I was flipping out and screaming. Strangely, it was kind of comforting because I just instinctively knew I was going to be okay. And my ex was just sort of… there. We didn’t talk until I told him I wanted to leave, at which point I got in a car – I don’t know if it was his or mine, nor do I know if he was in it with me. But I do remember seeing some sort of Mr. Roger’s Land (don’t read too much into that – I had just finished reading about him on EW’s site yesterday afternoon) and I gleefully announced, “I wanna go in!”
So I parked the car and got out, walked up to the ticket gate and paid for a ticket, and I walked in the door, all by myself. Inside was a huge library – the kind that I dream of having one day, where the walls are bookshelves and every shelf is full, from floor to ceiling. The whole room smells like a book store, which I love. And sitting in a large, leather wingback chair is the dude who played the James Lipton character on Chappelle Show. He nodded a hello and motioned for me to sit in the large, leather wingback chair across from him, and he opened a huge, encyclopedia-looking book.
I sighed. “I guess you want me to get educated before I have some fun, huh?”
And he said, “Exactly.”
And I woke up, well aware that I’d just answered my own questions about the situation I’m currently in in my own dream.
See, this is a situation I’ve been in more than once. And I hate to admit that, because in a way it seems like it’s something I should’ve learned from the first two times. But this time I really had to do myself in to drive the point home and really learn the lesson so I really don’t ever do it again. And it sucks. But before I can enjoy the fruits of my labors, I have to really, fully and completely learn the lesson. And thank god I have… in theory. The only way I’ll know for sure if I’ve learned it in practice is if the cosmos let up a little and give me a break so we can test what I’ve learned.
(Hopefully someone is out there listening…)
Anyway. The times, they are a changing… for the better. Galleys of Sexography go out this week, my proposal for the spirituality book has gone out, and a whole schwack of new freelance opportunities have dropped in my lap, and I’m excited to have the opportunity to work with some pretty cool people.
But more on that later. In the meantime, I have to pack.
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