Thursday, July 23, 2009

Half a Cat and a Baby in a Bottle

One of the great mysteries in this life is the dream. That bizarre voyage from one's comfortable bed to places and events never imagined in the waking hours. What meaning, if any, do dreams conceal? I'm becoming convinced that those nightly trips are more than random firing of neurons in my brain. They may or may not have any connection to our conscious life, though they probably do since people have nightmares after horrific events that happen in their lives, often reliving them over and over when they sleep.

My dreams are usually unorganized, skip around a lot, and conjure up wild fantasies that I can not see any connection to in my physical life. The ones I remember most vividly usually have an underlying ominous feeling about them, making me hope I won't fall asleep the next night. The one last night about a cat cut in half, but both halves walking - only connected by a few strands of fur, was one of those. When the strands of fur connecting the parts broke both halves of the cat fell down and died slowly. Is there a hidden clue there about something that might be going on, or possibly foretelling some sort of future? Who knows, but that part and the rest of the dream had a sense of evil, lurking just out of sight, waiting to explode on the scene. There was no horror show climax however, just that feeling of dread upon awakening, with a whole day to dwell on it.

I know people down through the ages have interpreted dreams and maybe if I had the time I'd delve into some of their findings, but for now I'll just keep closing my eyes and hope that my journey into dreamland is a peaceful one.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Out of it for Awhile

The other day I experienced a nervous breakdown. I thought I'd been through about as many variations of mental stress that there were, but this was something different and extreme. Not quite the physical symptoms of a panic attack, but so emotionally overwhelming that I could not see an end in sight, and I was barely in control of myself, yelling at my family in a way that I never do.
It was brought on by a few things; the realization of how far in debt I am and can see no way to pull myself out, by the overwhelming amount of work that has to be done to the house and the cabin, and the fact that the rest of my family doesn't seem to think anything is wrong and are unwilling to help out with things that need done.I reached a breaking point and just went over the edge. Driving down the highway I thought several times of turning my car into the path of an oncoming semi, or into a large tree, but that wouldn't help me any, as I would die in debt - something that goes against a sort of moral code I try to live by, I think you should not owe anyone anything when you pass out of this life. Eventually a large dose of Xanax brought me back to the point where I didn't care whether or not my house, cats or my bumblebee underwear got foreclosed on.
It was a scary thing to go through, and it made me face at least one hard fact; I wasn't going to be able to quit my job and go to school full time like I'd planned ... at least not this year.

Several other, slightly better, things have happened since the last time I posted anything. My wife and I celebrated our 25th anniversary - pretty quietly actually. I turned 50, thankfully also quietly. The remodeling at the store where I work is almost completed after two and a half years of sawing, jackhammering, and having to work around a crew of construction workers each day. I've been keeping busy, which is one reason I haven't been on here writing much, although I still get on and read my favorite blogs most every day. I hope the next time I'll have something interesting to write about, but probably not... although that's never stopped me from writing before.