Lunacy!
Wow.
On my friendslist: 6 weird/creepy/disturbing/randomly sexual dreams.
In my email: 3 weird/creepy/disturbing/randomly sexual dreams.
In my husband's head: 1 weird/creepy/disturbing/randomly sexual dream.
In my head: God knows what I was dreaming, I don't remember; but he tells me I was twitching like a fish.
I rather suspect that on any given day were I to survey my readership, a low but steady percentage of them would have had abnormally vivid and odd dreams on any given night, so the preponderance of dream weirdness going on probably means precisely dick. I just find it vaguely creeptastic that everyone posted about it. And part of me can't help wondering if it's not the full moon.
Shit has just been fucked up the past couple days. Tiny things have gone wrong in ominous ways, I've had several creepy close calls, and every snatch of conversation or random bit of radio chatter seems to parallel my life in some bizarre and arcane fashion, and people's driving has unfathomably gone to total shit. My cats were rampaging hell-beasts all day yesterday, they misbehaved all night, and this morning, for the . . . 10th? night in a row I woke up in panic attack mode for no discernible fucking reason. It's like the world is slowly going crazy, and taking me with. Everything's tilted the wrong way, we just haven't started to fall yet.
This is, historically, the way I experience October leading up to All Hallow's (I really want a party on the first this year). Now, I'm not superstitious, I'm not an aura-probing new-age incense-wafter who divines the future from rat pellets and has to root around in chicken entrails to find her car keys. I'm a sane and sober person who eyes the occult with a heavy dose of affectionate skepticism.
Nevertheless, with a grounding in Graves and Frasier, and a healthy respect for the earth's cycles and their effect on the human psyche, it's hard not to see this time of year as what it is: a gateway. And for me, October is lived on the borderlands. The bare bones of the surreal lie hard under the world's thin flesh. The skin of the world we know sometimes rolls back altogether to reveal a glimpse of something . . . other. This usually culminates in a complete freak-out sometime near the 30th-31st (hopefully not this year, since I have a signing to go to on Halloween), after which it's all good.
My method of dealing is going to involve some heavy-duty denial, I think. I'm still not feeling chipper, but there's some kind of suck equilibrium going on whereby I don't actually hope for anything better and so I can't be disappointed when nothing happens.
My glorious new set of Big Trouble in Little China icons come courtesy of dancingshaman, via generous referral from gaaneden. The world needs more seahorse, and livejournal needs more Jack Burton.
On my friendslist: 6 weird/creepy/disturbing/randomly sexual dreams.
In my email: 3 weird/creepy/disturbing/randomly sexual dreams.
In my husband's head: 1 weird/creepy/disturbing/randomly sexual dream.
In my head: God knows what I was dreaming, I don't remember; but he tells me I was twitching like a fish.
I rather suspect that on any given day were I to survey my readership, a low but steady percentage of them would have had abnormally vivid and odd dreams on any given night, so the preponderance of dream weirdness going on probably means precisely dick. I just find it vaguely creeptastic that everyone posted about it. And part of me can't help wondering if it's not the full moon.
Shit has just been fucked up the past couple days. Tiny things have gone wrong in ominous ways, I've had several creepy close calls, and every snatch of conversation or random bit of radio chatter seems to parallel my life in some bizarre and arcane fashion, and people's driving has unfathomably gone to total shit. My cats were rampaging hell-beasts all day yesterday, they misbehaved all night, and this morning, for the . . . 10th? night in a row I woke up in panic attack mode for no discernible fucking reason. It's like the world is slowly going crazy, and taking me with. Everything's tilted the wrong way, we just haven't started to fall yet.
This is, historically, the way I experience October leading up to All Hallow's (I really want a party on the first this year). Now, I'm not superstitious, I'm not an aura-probing new-age incense-wafter who divines the future from rat pellets and has to root around in chicken entrails to find her car keys. I'm a sane and sober person who eyes the occult with a heavy dose of affectionate skepticism.
Nevertheless, with a grounding in Graves and Frasier, and a healthy respect for the earth's cycles and their effect on the human psyche, it's hard not to see this time of year as what it is: a gateway. And for me, October is lived on the borderlands. The bare bones of the surreal lie hard under the world's thin flesh. The skin of the world we know sometimes rolls back altogether to reveal a glimpse of something . . . other. This usually culminates in a complete freak-out sometime near the 30th-31st (hopefully not this year, since I have a signing to go to on Halloween), after which it's all good.
My method of dealing is going to involve some heavy-duty denial, I think. I'm still not feeling chipper, but there's some kind of suck equilibrium going on whereby I don't actually hope for anything better and so I can't be disappointed when nothing happens.
My glorious new set of Big Trouble in Little China icons come courtesy of dancingshaman, via generous referral from gaaneden. The world needs more seahorse, and livejournal needs more Jack Burton.