Dream Fragments
I've had some odd dreams lately and have been meaning to write them down. These two stand out though because of a conversation I had last night with a friend. *edited out one sentence* I think he told her what he did because he's too scared to tell me himself and figures that she will pass it along to me. I had the first dream before the conversation and the last one after the fact.
Friday morning , May 22, sometime before 6:00 AM
I'm sitting in front of the computer reading a few blogs and passing the time. There are people online that I know but I don't want to talk to them and a few could drop off and it wouldn't hurt my feelings either. I start to go check out some music when my phone rings. The sound of Attention Whore piques my curiosity to pick it up and see who is calling. I know the name but the person who it is attached to is not suppose to have my number. I try to remember what I may have wrote or put up to bring on this call, but all I did was go reading back into some old entries and I couldn't imagine that having any sort of percussions. I answer the phone, annoyed and wanting to know who gave my number to this one.
He starts out calling me Meredith, bad footing already and he's talking fast, trying to get a sentence out before I either hang up on him or start taking him apart. The words are blurring a bit as I listen and consider hitting the end button when I catch the note in his voice. The fucker is crying or about to. I managed to hear some sort of apology in all the jumble of words, which I felt was overshadowed by the use of calling me by the wrong name entirely. He's going on about being sorry and that at the time it was true and he was so confused, still is for the most part about things, understands something, can't hear it all with the blubbering. I'm trying to get him to calm down, asking him to please stop crying, oh god stop the crying, why the hell are you crying!?!
Sunday night to Monday morning, May 24-May 25
We are heading over to the farm and talking about that phone call I had gotten the other night. It's been along work day and I'm looking forward to just wandering about the land and feeding chickens, maybe sleeping in. We stop in town to get some food and do a bit of light shopping. A goth walks out of one of the stores which is unusual since we don't have that many in this area other than myself...and I look again and feel the headache starting. He's on the phone and his car is broken down, well, his ride's car is broken. The other guy dresses more like a country boy and is alot taller and built bigger. My husband is trying to not laugh and making references to Broke Back Mountain. I'm hushing him and trying to move along, maybe pretend I don't see someone I know in need and feel obligated to help, yet I do. We've been spotted and the awkwardness starts. Somehow we all end up heading to the farm together since it's late, and the phone conversation is not mentioned. Arrive at the house and unload the groceries informing my parents that we have guests. I put the goth want to be in my old room, shaking my head at the shirt made up up zippers and straps along with the usual jacket. He'll probably puzzle over the canopy bed for sometime and go through the old clothes in the closet that I wore as a child.
My sister is hanging out with the husband and from the sounds of laughter, I know I don't want to join them. Country boy is wandering around trying to find a signal to call his insurance carrier, and it turns out he goes to school down in Milledgeville so knows some of my kinfolk. I don't spend alot of time with small talk and head out into the yard to walk around. It's almost as I remember it, the fenced backyard with some changes, woods, a shed or two, and my gothy companion is out heading over to me....great. He starts talking, mostly the small chit chat and I'm nodding and giving back one word answers wondering why I can't just be alone for a bit...and he ask me why I won't look at him. I sigh. I answer that I don't need to look at him to answer his queries, and he ask why I haven't looked him dead on at all. I tell him I don't want to, and he ask me to look at him, please. I say no. He touches my shoulder as to turn me and I jerk it out of reach and move faster to the fence and gate. We end up running with me closing him out of the fenced yard, holding the gate with the latch turned. It's a wooden one that is basically made of privacy fence boards so I don't have to see him, but can hear him fussing to talk to him and let him in. I say no, go away, I'm feeding the chickens. He stops knocking and I hear him move down the fence. I consider that maybe I'm being a coward and stubborn, so unlock the fence door. Before I can turn around to see to the chicken, he blocks my turn with both arms from behind. The fucker found another way in.
At this point for sheer perversity I won't look at him at all, and preceded to ignore him a bit as I feed the chickens and look at the nest. He's going on and on about how I'm behaving and such. I look up, into his face like he keeps asking and tell him I don't want to talk to him, I don't want his damn apologies, I don't want to see him right now, and I don't see any point in looking at him when I don't want a thing to do with him right now. He gets the message and leaves, head down and dragging a bit. What joy I was going to have feeding and messing around with my chickens is gone and I feel like a heel. Eventually I head off to sleep in the guest room. My husband has to leave early in the morning to take the country boy somewhere and arrangements have been made to get the two home.
I wake up in shorts and a t-shirt, wanting to take a shower. My old bed is bigger than this one and more comfortable, but there's a goth in it. I shower and realize that my clothes are in the old room as well, so I head to the back with my I-pod and book, planning to spend some time in the room as soon as it's occupant gets up. The occupant is sprawled out in my bed in his bright blue boxers and awake. He moves at though to pretend at some form of modesty *which is laughable with the door wide open to the hall*, but stops short when I just turn my back and sit on the edge of the bed, reading. He starts asking me about the room and some of the items in it. I tell him it use to be my room and I would appreciate some time alone in it when he got up and dressed. I can feel him behind me and he's reading over my shoulder. All my warning bells go off, since it's a similar scenario to what Setsuna has done to me before initiating a make out session. I try to ignore that since this one is in a relationship, I'm married, and it would be so totally fucked up for him to try with all the not so nice history to date. He pauses my music and then I'm turned around with my hands pushing him back by his shoulders.
He's looking right at me and remarks that it's odd that to get me to look him in the face it would take something like this. He pushes a bit more in towards me and I put pressure back. He's not forcing or trying to force it, but the actions let me know that if I give any little bit, then he'll assume consent. My hands slide a bit on his shoulders and he pushes the advantage, but I shove him back and off, standing up. I start raising hell, name calling and reminding him that we both are in serious relationships. He was smiling then kind of shook himself and agreed that was bad, but then followed up with how I know that it's not always safe to assume he's himself. I throw the book at him and remind him that he can damn well control the other parts of himself just fine if he want to. He gets up and find his pants and I sit back down and grab the book, laying back to read and waiting for him to go. I stop reading to look up and see him leaning down over me. He ask me, "You sure that you wasn't even a bit curious though and maybe wanting to see what would have happened?" He leave the room quickly with my book following him out the door as it slams shuts.
After lunch sometimes I go check on the chickens and try to locate some book that I may have of the goth. It's almost time for them to leave and my husband has already came back and been informed of the morning's happenings. I locate the book, but it's not the right one so I let him know we don't have it. He gets ready to leave and I walk him out of the house to see him off. He ask for a hug and I consider, then wake up.
Now onto a couple of other dreams
My sisters and I are running through the field leading into the woods, laughing. We are going to do a bit of "gathering" for the festival tonight, and will have to be back in time to dress in our garlands and robes. These woods are different from the one we will be running through later for the chase, and our giggling dims as we enter this solemn place. Pairing off, we start heading in different directions, gathering the needed herbs, flowers, vines, bark and mushrooms. There are trees here that aren't as old as the ones in the sacred hollow *grotto*, but their width and height still impresses upon you the time they've stood. I wander off from my closest sibling and follow the path of flagstones that barely stand out in the grass and dirt covering them. The High Priestess has told us before that this forest is on a spot that once appeared much differently and that our grotto use to be the only forest to this area during that age. The path seems to go up hill, almost as though steps with the way the smoothed stone appeared to climb up. At the top there seemed to at one point be a portal, or one could imagine such with the way the two pieces of rock with vines growing up and over stood.
I find myself entering between the two marks and there seem to be an open area with little vegetation in the middle surrounded by high walls of trees and vines with some openings. As I inspected the side, I realize that there is stone there as well, and the ground around is actually all stone with cracks that fill with vegetation and covering of dirt and mud. What once could have been stairs stand at one end and as I turn to survey the area I notice part of the forest off in the distance going out another opening that heads downhill. My sister is still busy trying to get honey from a hive, but I find I can't stop myself from turning and heading down to explore the oddity I notice. At the bottom there seems to be in the dense growth an opening to a wall? of sorts. I walk forward into this overgrown area and see that it almost makes a tunnel of sorts to either side. I turn to the right and eventually end a dead end area that has a bit of space opened to see through. Peering through I realize that it's another opening that heads to a crossing of roads. I hurry back to the take left, leaving a flower on the ground behind me since it seems to be a maze in the growth.
Walking through the tunnels and open ways, over roots and pushing some vines out the way I weave my way through only to find myself at a point in the middle staring at a marble looking structure. There are birds bathing in the unmoving pools of water in the basin of it amongst the leaves and vines. I could almost hear a tinkling of water and some faint music...but there is no movement of water I could see and the music won't start til dusk...though this did not sound that familiar, or did it? I can see other openings that lead out from this place, but I know that I need to get back before time catches me out here in the dark with everyone looking for me. Before I can turn I hear a voice that sends me spiraling around, ducking to the ground with my hand to knife. There is no one there, though for a moment I thought I saw a figure in odd dress. His words though still echo in the now stillness of this place, for even the birds stopped singing as he spoke. "A different place and time, but we are the same and one. I still await you, when you are ready....Beloved"
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"We can't stay here and last much longer, " I tell them, waiting for the truth and maybe sense to sink into their thick headed skulls. Dusty, dirty and a bit dishevel, I look on tiredly, wishing I had the foresight to have changed into men's clothing instead of being stuck in this dress. The men are talking amongst themselves and trying to make the most use of the break presented us in this small skirmish. Finally they break up and decide that I'm right and we need to leave this position for a more favorable one. My husband starts assigning us to gather whatever supplies we need, the powders for the muskets, metal slugs, food, herbal supplies as well as my arcane stuff. The other two couples with us and odd man proceed to what they are best knowledgable with, which leaves me and the odd man out to get the herbs and gather my utensils for spellcasting later. We argue a bit over what to take, and in the end I win since he finally acknowledges I am more gifted in this. Everyone has gathered up what is needed and we decide to make a break for the trenches that sit outside the house and walk down them to the trading post to hole up if it's not otherwise occupied. My man leads us on, having already served overseas in other campaigns and now drafted into this battle against his own homeland. I know it's tough for him, leaving the ranks amongst the british to side with a rebellious nation he only has ties with through land and marriage.
Maybe it could have been different if the king had reacted in another manner, and Parliament had otherwise not pushed with their powerplays. The whole thing was ridiculous and now here I am trudging through the mud from my home to join up with other groups to fight...all because some damn British officer made a pass at my obviously married sister and didn't accept a no. "How much further madam do we have to go?," asks the Italian guy who is also a practitioner in the arts and an old friend of the husband's. "Sir," I begin, turning to face him, looking up with hand on my waist, " I have not the damnedest idea, but it would all go quicker if we chat less and move our legs. Be thankful you aren't in a skirt." He mutters behind me and I ignore him, thankful I left him to carry the gear, an advantage of being of the "frailer sex".
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"Do you want to see if you can hear or feel the baby?", I ask my youngest child who just had reached out to touch my swollen belly. She smiles at me and says, "Yes!". I direct her to put her head as to listen to my belly and she does so, listening hard then jumping away and laughing at the thud she got from the kick the wee one inside gave to her. My son is giggling and their step sister is also laughing and wanting to feel the baby. I let them all gather about and try to find a spot to touch and see who gets a kick or not. My husband shakes his head, but is smiling at the small gathering around his tiny, and very pregnant wife.
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"Do you want to live?," the voice starts up, whispering quietly through the sounds of my sobs and tears. My head shakes no and my arms are wrapped around me tightly, as though in a ball I could otherwise escape the misery and pain I feel that burns it's way inside me. "You know what you can do to stop it all," again the voice quietly says, sort of daring me. In the darkness of the room, in this shadowy corner of my mind I can hear a light sardonic chuckle, another voice pipes in saying, "You do know that if you do end it all, what becomes of the ones you leave behind? Who is going to take care of things, answer their questions and think, what will others tell them of you and why you felt it your right to take yourself from them and out of life? You know what HE will tell them, and who will take care of Antony?" I sniffle a bit, and move out of the curled up ball, wiping the dust and blood off my face. "What can I do?", my voice sounds so harsh and quiet somehow. No answer for a bit, then a smaller voice directs my attention to the twigs scattered about in the dirt. "When that son of bitch comes in, put one of those into his eye and remember, if you push far enough, he'll die or at least hurt bad so you can get to something to really put an end to him." I select one that is sturdy and curl back up, pretending to be afraid and miserable again, waiting for the door to open.
Friday morning , May 22, sometime before 6:00 AM
I'm sitting in front of the computer reading a few blogs and passing the time. There are people online that I know but I don't want to talk to them and a few could drop off and it wouldn't hurt my feelings either. I start to go check out some music when my phone rings. The sound of Attention Whore piques my curiosity to pick it up and see who is calling. I know the name but the person who it is attached to is not suppose to have my number. I try to remember what I may have wrote or put up to bring on this call, but all I did was go reading back into some old entries and I couldn't imagine that having any sort of percussions. I answer the phone, annoyed and wanting to know who gave my number to this one.
He starts out calling me Meredith, bad footing already and he's talking fast, trying to get a sentence out before I either hang up on him or start taking him apart. The words are blurring a bit as I listen and consider hitting the end button when I catch the note in his voice. The fucker is crying or about to. I managed to hear some sort of apology in all the jumble of words, which I felt was overshadowed by the use of calling me by the wrong name entirely. He's going on about being sorry and that at the time it was true and he was so confused, still is for the most part about things, understands something, can't hear it all with the blubbering. I'm trying to get him to calm down, asking him to please stop crying, oh god stop the crying, why the hell are you crying!?!
Sunday night to Monday morning, May 24-May 25
We are heading over to the farm and talking about that phone call I had gotten the other night. It's been along work day and I'm looking forward to just wandering about the land and feeding chickens, maybe sleeping in. We stop in town to get some food and do a bit of light shopping. A goth walks out of one of the stores which is unusual since we don't have that many in this area other than myself...and I look again and feel the headache starting. He's on the phone and his car is broken down, well, his ride's car is broken. The other guy dresses more like a country boy and is alot taller and built bigger. My husband is trying to not laugh and making references to Broke Back Mountain. I'm hushing him and trying to move along, maybe pretend I don't see someone I know in need and feel obligated to help, yet I do. We've been spotted and the awkwardness starts. Somehow we all end up heading to the farm together since it's late, and the phone conversation is not mentioned. Arrive at the house and unload the groceries informing my parents that we have guests. I put the goth want to be in my old room, shaking my head at the shirt made up up zippers and straps along with the usual jacket. He'll probably puzzle over the canopy bed for sometime and go through the old clothes in the closet that I wore as a child.
My sister is hanging out with the husband and from the sounds of laughter, I know I don't want to join them. Country boy is wandering around trying to find a signal to call his insurance carrier, and it turns out he goes to school down in Milledgeville so knows some of my kinfolk. I don't spend alot of time with small talk and head out into the yard to walk around. It's almost as I remember it, the fenced backyard with some changes, woods, a shed or two, and my gothy companion is out heading over to me....great. He starts talking, mostly the small chit chat and I'm nodding and giving back one word answers wondering why I can't just be alone for a bit...and he ask me why I won't look at him. I sigh. I answer that I don't need to look at him to answer his queries, and he ask why I haven't looked him dead on at all. I tell him I don't want to, and he ask me to look at him, please. I say no. He touches my shoulder as to turn me and I jerk it out of reach and move faster to the fence and gate. We end up running with me closing him out of the fenced yard, holding the gate with the latch turned. It's a wooden one that is basically made of privacy fence boards so I don't have to see him, but can hear him fussing to talk to him and let him in. I say no, go away, I'm feeding the chickens. He stops knocking and I hear him move down the fence. I consider that maybe I'm being a coward and stubborn, so unlock the fence door. Before I can turn around to see to the chicken, he blocks my turn with both arms from behind. The fucker found another way in.
At this point for sheer perversity I won't look at him at all, and preceded to ignore him a bit as I feed the chickens and look at the nest. He's going on and on about how I'm behaving and such. I look up, into his face like he keeps asking and tell him I don't want to talk to him, I don't want his damn apologies, I don't want to see him right now, and I don't see any point in looking at him when I don't want a thing to do with him right now. He gets the message and leaves, head down and dragging a bit. What joy I was going to have feeding and messing around with my chickens is gone and I feel like a heel. Eventually I head off to sleep in the guest room. My husband has to leave early in the morning to take the country boy somewhere and arrangements have been made to get the two home.
I wake up in shorts and a t-shirt, wanting to take a shower. My old bed is bigger than this one and more comfortable, but there's a goth in it. I shower and realize that my clothes are in the old room as well, so I head to the back with my I-pod and book, planning to spend some time in the room as soon as it's occupant gets up. The occupant is sprawled out in my bed in his bright blue boxers and awake. He moves at though to pretend at some form of modesty *which is laughable with the door wide open to the hall*, but stops short when I just turn my back and sit on the edge of the bed, reading. He starts asking me about the room and some of the items in it. I tell him it use to be my room and I would appreciate some time alone in it when he got up and dressed. I can feel him behind me and he's reading over my shoulder. All my warning bells go off, since it's a similar scenario to what Setsuna has done to me before initiating a make out session. I try to ignore that since this one is in a relationship, I'm married, and it would be so totally fucked up for him to try with all the not so nice history to date. He pauses my music and then I'm turned around with my hands pushing him back by his shoulders.
He's looking right at me and remarks that it's odd that to get me to look him in the face it would take something like this. He pushes a bit more in towards me and I put pressure back. He's not forcing or trying to force it, but the actions let me know that if I give any little bit, then he'll assume consent. My hands slide a bit on his shoulders and he pushes the advantage, but I shove him back and off, standing up. I start raising hell, name calling and reminding him that we both are in serious relationships. He was smiling then kind of shook himself and agreed that was bad, but then followed up with how I know that it's not always safe to assume he's himself. I throw the book at him and remind him that he can damn well control the other parts of himself just fine if he want to. He gets up and find his pants and I sit back down and grab the book, laying back to read and waiting for him to go. I stop reading to look up and see him leaning down over me. He ask me, "You sure that you wasn't even a bit curious though and maybe wanting to see what would have happened?" He leave the room quickly with my book following him out the door as it slams shuts.
After lunch sometimes I go check on the chickens and try to locate some book that I may have of the goth. It's almost time for them to leave and my husband has already came back and been informed of the morning's happenings. I locate the book, but it's not the right one so I let him know we don't have it. He gets ready to leave and I walk him out of the house to see him off. He ask for a hug and I consider, then wake up.
Now onto a couple of other dreams
My sisters and I are running through the field leading into the woods, laughing. We are going to do a bit of "gathering" for the festival tonight, and will have to be back in time to dress in our garlands and robes. These woods are different from the one we will be running through later for the chase, and our giggling dims as we enter this solemn place. Pairing off, we start heading in different directions, gathering the needed herbs, flowers, vines, bark and mushrooms. There are trees here that aren't as old as the ones in the sacred hollow *grotto*, but their width and height still impresses upon you the time they've stood. I wander off from my closest sibling and follow the path of flagstones that barely stand out in the grass and dirt covering them. The High Priestess has told us before that this forest is on a spot that once appeared much differently and that our grotto use to be the only forest to this area during that age. The path seems to go up hill, almost as though steps with the way the smoothed stone appeared to climb up. At the top there seemed to at one point be a portal, or one could imagine such with the way the two pieces of rock with vines growing up and over stood.
I find myself entering between the two marks and there seem to be an open area with little vegetation in the middle surrounded by high walls of trees and vines with some openings. As I inspected the side, I realize that there is stone there as well, and the ground around is actually all stone with cracks that fill with vegetation and covering of dirt and mud. What once could have been stairs stand at one end and as I turn to survey the area I notice part of the forest off in the distance going out another opening that heads downhill. My sister is still busy trying to get honey from a hive, but I find I can't stop myself from turning and heading down to explore the oddity I notice. At the bottom there seems to be in the dense growth an opening to a wall? of sorts. I walk forward into this overgrown area and see that it almost makes a tunnel of sorts to either side. I turn to the right and eventually end a dead end area that has a bit of space opened to see through. Peering through I realize that it's another opening that heads to a crossing of roads. I hurry back to the take left, leaving a flower on the ground behind me since it seems to be a maze in the growth.
Walking through the tunnels and open ways, over roots and pushing some vines out the way I weave my way through only to find myself at a point in the middle staring at a marble looking structure. There are birds bathing in the unmoving pools of water in the basin of it amongst the leaves and vines. I could almost hear a tinkling of water and some faint music...but there is no movement of water I could see and the music won't start til dusk...though this did not sound that familiar, or did it? I can see other openings that lead out from this place, but I know that I need to get back before time catches me out here in the dark with everyone looking for me. Before I can turn I hear a voice that sends me spiraling around, ducking to the ground with my hand to knife. There is no one there, though for a moment I thought I saw a figure in odd dress. His words though still echo in the now stillness of this place, for even the birds stopped singing as he spoke. "A different place and time, but we are the same and one. I still await you, when you are ready....Beloved"
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"We can't stay here and last much longer, " I tell them, waiting for the truth and maybe sense to sink into their thick headed skulls. Dusty, dirty and a bit dishevel, I look on tiredly, wishing I had the foresight to have changed into men's clothing instead of being stuck in this dress. The men are talking amongst themselves and trying to make the most use of the break presented us in this small skirmish. Finally they break up and decide that I'm right and we need to leave this position for a more favorable one. My husband starts assigning us to gather whatever supplies we need, the powders for the muskets, metal slugs, food, herbal supplies as well as my arcane stuff. The other two couples with us and odd man proceed to what they are best knowledgable with, which leaves me and the odd man out to get the herbs and gather my utensils for spellcasting later. We argue a bit over what to take, and in the end I win since he finally acknowledges I am more gifted in this. Everyone has gathered up what is needed and we decide to make a break for the trenches that sit outside the house and walk down them to the trading post to hole up if it's not otherwise occupied. My man leads us on, having already served overseas in other campaigns and now drafted into this battle against his own homeland. I know it's tough for him, leaving the ranks amongst the british to side with a rebellious nation he only has ties with through land and marriage.
Maybe it could have been different if the king had reacted in another manner, and Parliament had otherwise not pushed with their powerplays. The whole thing was ridiculous and now here I am trudging through the mud from my home to join up with other groups to fight...all because some damn British officer made a pass at my obviously married sister and didn't accept a no. "How much further madam do we have to go?," asks the Italian guy who is also a practitioner in the arts and an old friend of the husband's. "Sir," I begin, turning to face him, looking up with hand on my waist, " I have not the damnedest idea, but it would all go quicker if we chat less and move our legs. Be thankful you aren't in a skirt." He mutters behind me and I ignore him, thankful I left him to carry the gear, an advantage of being of the "frailer sex".
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"Do you want to see if you can hear or feel the baby?", I ask my youngest child who just had reached out to touch my swollen belly. She smiles at me and says, "Yes!". I direct her to put her head as to listen to my belly and she does so, listening hard then jumping away and laughing at the thud she got from the kick the wee one inside gave to her. My son is giggling and their step sister is also laughing and wanting to feel the baby. I let them all gather about and try to find a spot to touch and see who gets a kick or not. My husband shakes his head, but is smiling at the small gathering around his tiny, and very pregnant wife.
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"Do you want to live?," the voice starts up, whispering quietly through the sounds of my sobs and tears. My head shakes no and my arms are wrapped around me tightly, as though in a ball I could otherwise escape the misery and pain I feel that burns it's way inside me. "You know what you can do to stop it all," again the voice quietly says, sort of daring me. In the darkness of the room, in this shadowy corner of my mind I can hear a light sardonic chuckle, another voice pipes in saying, "You do know that if you do end it all, what becomes of the ones you leave behind? Who is going to take care of things, answer their questions and think, what will others tell them of you and why you felt it your right to take yourself from them and out of life? You know what HE will tell them, and who will take care of Antony?" I sniffle a bit, and move out of the curled up ball, wiping the dust and blood off my face. "What can I do?", my voice sounds so harsh and quiet somehow. No answer for a bit, then a smaller voice directs my attention to the twigs scattered about in the dirt. "When that son of bitch comes in, put one of those into his eye and remember, if you push far enough, he'll die or at least hurt bad so you can get to something to really put an end to him." I select one that is sturdy and curl back up, pretending to be afraid and miserable again, waiting for the door to open.