About Me

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Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Sunday, April 09, 2017

Another dream in the house that is not my house. And other stuff.

Written before breakfast, in the hope that writing it down will help me make sense of it. There is a house which recurs in my dreams. It has aspects of my sister's first house in the Seattle area, the two houses I lived in with my parents while growing up in Boise, the house I shared with the children's father when the kids were little, the duplex I rented before marrying Beloved, and this house, plus additions which are solely the product of my imagination. Sometimes family members are part of the dream. Sometimes they are not.

Early in this dream, my friend Speed was visiting, and he asked if we wanted to take our relationship to the next level. (We have never had that sort of a friendship.) I told him only if he wanted to investigate the church and be baptized. He said OK. I think it was at that point that I started looking around the house for a spare Book of Mormon and noticed that a particular dresser (which does not exist) was missing from my room.

I walked into another room to find the children's father sleeping in my father's bed, having just come home from work. I tried to talk to him but got nothing but sleepy murmurs. I walked out of that room, closing the door rather loudly (ahem!) and walked into another part of the house. Moments later, I found the children's father up and dressed and wide awake, shoving furniture around in the back bedroom of the house we shared. He told me that the new bishop (we don't have one) had called, and I was supposed to take in my brother-in-law.

In this dream, Middlest (invited to live with me in real life, and most welcome!) was was off doing whatever my kid does while I'm sleeping and dreaming. The children's father had somehow taken up residence in a different room and was appropriating my stuff. And I was trying to get to the app which contains our ward directory to verify that there had indeed been a change of leadership in the ward, but was stuck in an endless Facebook loop. I wandered into another room full of my Relief Society sisters from various wards I've lived in, and one of them pulled me in for a hug and told me I just needed to let all of this stuff go. I stood there and sobbed in her arms.

Yeah. I have no idea. But maybe I should pack a spare Book of Mormon when I go to the family reunion this summer.


In other news, I posted to FB about the sticks in my freezer, and a friend from the singles program shot me an email. I paraphrase with his permission:

I once owned 20 acres near [a lake] - a neighbor cut a lot of brush on his parcel, piled it and set fire to it.

Another neighbor (Asian) told him "You just burned up $100,000." The resourceful Asian cut the same brush on his parcel and built a steamer from used oil drums. He hired women to steam the branches to kill off critters, then sort and bundle them to be sold to flower shops and craft stores for floral displays etc.

This is just one of several businesses the Asian was involved in. His land was improved with a large house and a tractor, etc. He was an interesting example for the rest of us.


I need to talk to my doctor about upping the diuretic. I came home right after sacrament meeting, because my lower legs were doing the "get me out of this meeting" twitch for the latter part of the meeting. I didn't feel sick, just swollen and achy and tired. So I bummed two ibuprofen from Middlest, ate a light lunch, and slept the afternoon away. Knit has thus far not happened. I'm not sure that it will, although I do need to step away from the computer and put my legs up. I think I will wash a latte cup full of grapes and curl up with a good book.

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