This may be my last post.
Last night I went to bed early, for what it was worth. I don’t really like to watch election returns, having voted earlier there was nothing left that I could do to alter the outcome if I wanted to, so why watch the dribbling in of precincts and the drip, drip, drip of the outcomes where races were tight. I’d get it all in the morning and not have hopes raised and dashed multiple times throughout the night. I shut off the tube pretty much after the “Glee” repeat and a bit of “Dancing with the Stars”, worked a little and hit the hay (pretty literally since the rabbits had strewn it about the bedroom floor in some sort of madcap, two-bun rave.)
As a semi regular sufferer of insomnia, getting to bed and actually being a little tired was pretty cool and I had a fairly dull book that I knew would put me over the top. And voila…zzzzzzzzzzz…….and voila….3:40am.
I’m a pretty vivid dreamer. I remember I was wearing a red ribbed tank top (that I actually own) and some jeans that made me look sleek and perhaps a bit too skinny (ain’t no such pair), and I was running from office building to parking lot and hiding, and moving and hiding and getting discovered. Someone was after me and meant it. I wanted to get back to some hotel I was staying in to protect the rabbits (must have been a Marriott Residence Inn if the critters were there), but I kept running farther and farther away til I finally was out of the city and into a suburban farmhouse. I was with someone, might have been my sister, but I was too focused on escape to pay her more attention than was needed to make sure she kept up with me and was safe too.
We ended up in a farmhouse, one of those long stretches of New England farmhouses that they have that saying about (“Big house, little house, back house, barn*) that describes the connected farm. This one was standard issue white, it may have been one I know in North Reading, MA. The family invited us into their smallish living room (no open concept here) with the traditional wood fire glowing, and we sat in a circle of mismatched hard and upholstered chairs, on original wide pine floors covered here and there with ratty maroon oriental rugs. It was a safe house. Then the young man sitting closest to the hearth queried of me: “Why do you keep running, you’re going to die anyway, in two days hence?”
For whatever reason in the dream this did not freak me out, it made me stop and think and I asked my sister, “why does he know that?”, and though I can’t remember her answer, it was plausible so I thought it must be true.
I awoke briefly at this point, or maybe I didn’t, and started making my “to do” list, and it was none of the tell people you love them sort of thing. I pretty much thought, “gee I have to get my office organized and write a will that somehow impresses upon my family the absolute need to take appropriate care of the rabbits (feed them fresh veggies and clean cages before any other activity and always by 8am, and re-clean cage at least once preferable twice before bedtime, that any living thing that is 100% dependent on your care, gets their needs met first, as long as it isn’t oxygen in an airplane, and NO dog!, as that would stress out the blind rabbit and the hardwood floors too much). I reasoned in the dream that I could get that all done in two hours and the rest of the time I could spend with only the people who bring me joy. I knew in my heart all the people left behind would ultimately be fine and that was a source of comfort and relief for me.
So folks, though my plan is to stay around and embrace with happy anticipation the new life I experience every day, I can’t know that is what’s in store for me. Good lesson I guess, so I figure I better pass that along in the blog, adding another hour of important tasks to accomplish before I start doling out the hugs. Gotta get started on the office, noting all the while that as my day and awakeness increase, my priorities are changing (not about the rabbits mind you, but about the office organizing project).
XOXO (to many, but not all of you, as I am after all a non-tactile New Englander), Alison
*Click link to see farmhouse photos in book by Thomas C. Hubka http://www.amazon.com/Big-House-Little-Back-Barn/dp/1584653728
© 2010 Alison Colby-Campbell