1. Trashy people. It’s an exaggeration to say I’ve picked up a ton of trash since I started my daily walks, but even so, every day I come home with pockets filled with bottle caps, cellophane wrappers and toting bottles, cans and all manner of trash that someone has thrown out in passing. We’re almost the end of a peninsula, so all this is likely coming from people who “belong” here – property owners or at least residents. Why the fuck they decide they want to trash their own spot is entirely beyond me. Even here, in the woods, and 500 yards from the headwaters of the Bay, people are simply infuriating in their inability to consider anything more distant than the end of their own nose.
2. Thanks Obama. I got a fundraising text message using former President Obama’s photo to plead for cash for the Democratic Party a few days ago. Boy, using the name and likeness of the guy who “led” me through years of pay and hiring freezes to send fund raising texts is really goddamned tone deaf even for the Democratic Party. I might have to vote for you jerkwads, but after the way their guy fucked with my livelihood for half a decade, there isn’t a single circumstance imaginable where I’d give a plug nickel in his name. Just consider my donation the non-existent and miniscule raises I received during the Obama years. The goddamned audacity of some people.
3. Chicken dreams. I had “chicken dreams” again last night. That’s how I’ve come to think of the goofy ass dreams I seem to have about one in three times I have some kind of chicken for dinner. Last night I was rushing back to Tennessee. Somewhere, somehow, I had inherited a dilapidated manor house in the woods and had to restore it. There was a series of oddball characters and charlatans equally set on helping or hindering the cause. I’m not sure where my subconscious was going here, but I do know I woke up grinding the hell out of my teeth, so something in there is percolating.
Tag Archives: dreams
Dreaming while you sleep…
It’s always been rare when I remember dreaming at night. Maybe I’m recalling the one I had last night so vividly because I’ve had some variation of this dream four or five times over the last few weeks. Each time is slightly different, but each one has been a variation on a theme.
There’s not a power in heaven or earth that could get me to go back to teaching. In fact, I’m pretty sure my certificate remains revoked in Maryland since I walked out in the middle of the year when I quit. Still, there my dream self is, right in the classroom, walking the hallway, or more recently in the admin office raising three kinds of hell. Each time I have this dream the situation is more farcical than the last.
My brief teaching career was enlightening in a lot of ways, but it’s not something I feel a real need to revisit in my sleep. I’m sure there’s some important message my subconscious is trying to send through the static, but it would be more helpful, perhaps, if it contacted me during normal business hours instead of at 2:30 in the damned morning.
I just hope like hell I can sleep tonight without another visit to the past that never was.
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