Elvis lives!
Yay! Rod's alright. It must be really tough living there, waiting to hear more about the recovery.He said it was good that I didn't go to the reunion, because only 200 showed up out of 660. I never realize the size of our class, having lived in areas with smaller schools ever since.
I wonder what it would be like to go home, just to go home sometimes. My ex-father-in-law is still there, alone in his inexpressable thoughts. I'd just like to go out to the fields, smell the air, wander up to the water tower and see if the boulders are still there, marking the spot where we all decided someone was definitely buried, look for the enchanted meadow area that was entirely moss, the wooded area with felled trees over marshes, the ranch where all the cattle had died.
Remembering....some memories are pretty odd. On the 6th grade field trip at the end of the year, we hiked through someone else's property (common to do then), and everywhere lay dead cattle. I doubt we were supposed to be there (given that we evaded the fencing.) At the time, I had no notion that the scene was unusual, assuring myself that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. It was disturbing, but not horrifying. Maybe it was, I can still see the scene. They'd been gone for a little while, their bodies in rigor mortis, every last animal, dozens. The teacher did not look remotely perplexed or concerned that he had about 30 sixth graders surveying the scene....so we just followed along. Thinking about it now....what was going on there? :s
I'm working on using things I know to develop stories. Maybe I could use that creepy memory.
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The neighbor has a problem under his driveway, with a sinkhole.
He called me over to look at it...the concrete's there, but nothing is under it. I teased him and told him of my dreams of trolls coming up from under the ground, saying they must come from his place. He started to reach under
the driveway to see how far the hole went, and drew back suddenly afraid that his arm would be grabbed. He started laughing at himself. Then he tried it again, and I almost yelled "EEEyah!" behind him.
I didn't.
The city will fix it, as it starts in the road.
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I've lost 5 lbs in a couple days, and hope to lose 10 to 15 more in total. I still haven't read the diet book, but have eliminated dinner. Next, I will work on strength, and shouldn't lose much more weight.
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It would be useful to work into a routine where I write a short story (either fiction or non-fiction) or poem, and still record dreams every few days.
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Two nights ago there was a dream about a house that was mine. It's not one I've ever owned. It was constructed in the 50's, and it had to be sold. My parents were both there. I wanted to keep it because it was in better shape than the house I own now. It only needed to be emptied and have some paint touch-ups on the railing on the outside porch. The main room had dark walnut stained flooring with narrow ceiling shelving. It would be nice to put a model train track up there. There was a pale green rug with pink roses, and I wrapped myself in it. The only other thing I remember about the dream was a toy from the attic that my mother brought down to reminisce. It was an antique, but of course, couldn't be. It was built like antique coin banks with metal moving parts, but instead of using coins, it was surrounded by water in a cylinder. It functioned on marbles. If a person skillfully released a marble, it would hit a mechanism, that caused sculptures of old time gents in the bottom to raise their bottles of soda in a toast. The marbles were perfect and a colorful orange and white in this sort of muted dream.
Lessons to be learned: Hmmm. Don't lose your marbles...It was a past that wasn't mine, but I'm missing the past...I'm not happy with my house...I've always wanted a model train track up near the ceiling, just for fun.
I have to focus now, but it's trickier than it used to be.
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