I had a ton of dreams this morning...there seems to be some common themes. Here we go...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I am standing over a washer and dryer machine, following this spiritual method of doing laundry. I hear a voice telling me that what I need is "more light"..."more light"...."more light." Then I am pulling plastic contacts, thin and flexible, like the ones I wear, out of a pile of wet laundry, and sorting them in my hand. Instead of just two, there are five or six contacts. I stand in front of a mirror and attempt to put them in my eyes. As it is in many of my dreams, most of the contacts are just too huge and floppy to fit my eyeball. I find a "dotted" line on one of the lenses and pull it apart, in half. It still is not suitable for my eye. Only one of the contacts do I manage to insert in properly, and that one feels uncomfortable and old after a few minutes, so I take it out.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I am staying for a time at a nice, big house. Across the street lives a big family...at least nine kids (like in the film "Surfwise"). They are outside a lot...singing. The dad is the "bandleader." The family, including mom, sings original songs and dances around in the yard, especially on Sundays. This Sunday morning, they sing a song about "Life" and point to the sky. From across the street I enjoy their performance, and my dad walks up and says, "oh I wanted to make sure you didn't miss this!" and I felt annoyed because...duh...I was watching it already. While part of me felt a slight longing to be a part of a family like that, I also found myself laughing along in reaction to whatever snide remark it is that the group of four "rebels" (4 kids that refuse to participate) say as they watch, judgementally, from a distance.
Staying in the big house with me is a family from church in NY that was friends with my family from the time I was an infant until ten years of age (when we moved to FL). Anyway, my good friend from way back then, Jeremy was there, and he was "all grown up." It was the first time I had seen him since we were kids. I needed to take a shower and I also needed to do some laundry. I knew my mom was going to try and come do it for me, and I felt it was important that I took responsibility and did it myself. In this dream, the laundry machines were in the same room as the shower. I went into Jeremy's room to see if I could use his shower-room or if he had an idea where there was one I could use. He gave me a big, long, hug. He said in muffled words, "I am so sorry about the cancer..." Aloud, I say something like, "Oh, it's okay." But inside I am aware of the hug that he is giving me reaching out and holding that part inside of me for which it did not all feel simply "okay."
The big singing family is performing for Christmas outside in a big park. There are many people there. The father is doing some crazy dance moves with fancy flips. Plastic silvery things fly up from the ground and stick to our mouths. The dad comes over to tell me something and we are trying to pull these things off of our mouths so we can communicate. He informs me that he will be using me as a volunteer for one of the performances coming up. What he was really telling me was something else, I realize, when within minutes a man nurse comes up with a syringe in hand. He tells me he has an injection for me. Neupogen, I think. I feel suddenly very upset. Before rolling up my sleeve in compliance, I complain to him, "I just don't understand why you people keep giving me all these drugs!!!"
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I am at a big store. My mom is there too. She is all dressed up and she has the voice of the main character from "Sex and the City." She is getting on my nerves because she is acting very prissy. I go off to go get my hair done. There is a sort of "interlude"- a short history of the girl who is now a hairdresser. It shows how she got her hair cut in this cute, seventies style. Then how she was inspired to become a hairdresser herself and give others similar do's. Anyway, when I bear my head, we both realize that I don't have any hair to work with really. I tell her that I am going through chemo. She recommends that I grow it out, even though it will be patchy in places. She insists that we could make it work and gives me an example (it is as though I instantly have the hair I would have if I were to grow it out). As she pushes and poofs it up to cover the empty spaces, it (the hairdo. my head.) strikes me as pathetic. I go to find my mom eventually. This part is too strange to explain. Something to do with metal. My mom was upset because metal was making parts of her skin indent slightly. This guy was testing her by putting metal at different parts of her body. I suggested that maybe she was allergic to metal, like I used to be when I wore metal framed glasses. At this point I realized her voice sounded like the woman from "Sex in the City." The last thing I remember was my mom holding two fancy drinks in her hand at once, preparing to leave the store in a fancy shiny black car. She was talking about these younger guys that were hitting on her or checking her out. (Ha ha ha....that is not my mom...it is the show!) She was now just as much the character as she was herself.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
That is it for now. By the way, speaking of mothers, Happy MOTHER'S Day!!!
I love my mama. Even though she might murder me when she reads her role in the dream I just documented. The unconscious is a strange animal. And I've been spending a lot of time with it lately...in my bed! Hmmm...that sounds funny. I like the sound of that. It sounds more exciting than it is. Trust me. (Oh yah, mom...just bring to mind the sweet little poem I wrote you...okay?)
I am glad that I have another week before chemo. I am not ready to have another round of that junk pumped in me yet. I mean...that healing nectar. Plus, I've got a CD Release Party to rehearse for and play on Tuesday!!! I'm trying to stay motivated and positive, while not ignoring or repressing real emotions. But if I am to be honest, I will say that I have spent alot of time lately sleepy and numb. I don't really like the summer heat and I tend to put myself to sleep unless I am actively creating (or destroying?) something. Like what I am doing right now. This captivates my attention....but am I just stroking my ego? Isn't there something inherently self-absorbed about blogging? I guess it can be anything you say it is.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I am standing over a washer and dryer machine, following this spiritual method of doing laundry. I hear a voice telling me that what I need is "more light"..."more light"...."more light." Then I am pulling plastic contacts, thin and flexible, like the ones I wear, out of a pile of wet laundry, and sorting them in my hand. Instead of just two, there are five or six contacts. I stand in front of a mirror and attempt to put them in my eyes. As it is in many of my dreams, most of the contacts are just too huge and floppy to fit my eyeball. I find a "dotted" line on one of the lenses and pull it apart, in half. It still is not suitable for my eye. Only one of the contacts do I manage to insert in properly, and that one feels uncomfortable and old after a few minutes, so I take it out.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I am staying for a time at a nice, big house. Across the street lives a big family...at least nine kids (like in the film "Surfwise"). They are outside a lot...singing. The dad is the "bandleader." The family, including mom, sings original songs and dances around in the yard, especially on Sundays. This Sunday morning, they sing a song about "Life" and point to the sky. From across the street I enjoy their performance, and my dad walks up and says, "oh I wanted to make sure you didn't miss this!" and I felt annoyed because...duh...I was watching it already. While part of me felt a slight longing to be a part of a family like that, I also found myself laughing along in reaction to whatever snide remark it is that the group of four "rebels" (4 kids that refuse to participate) say as they watch, judgementally, from a distance.
Staying in the big house with me is a family from church in NY that was friends with my family from the time I was an infant until ten years of age (when we moved to FL). Anyway, my good friend from way back then, Jeremy was there, and he was "all grown up." It was the first time I had seen him since we were kids. I needed to take a shower and I also needed to do some laundry. I knew my mom was going to try and come do it for me, and I felt it was important that I took responsibility and did it myself. In this dream, the laundry machines were in the same room as the shower. I went into Jeremy's room to see if I could use his shower-room or if he had an idea where there was one I could use. He gave me a big, long, hug. He said in muffled words, "I am so sorry about the cancer..." Aloud, I say something like, "Oh, it's okay." But inside I am aware of the hug that he is giving me reaching out and holding that part inside of me for which it did not all feel simply "okay."
The big singing family is performing for Christmas outside in a big park. There are many people there. The father is doing some crazy dance moves with fancy flips. Plastic silvery things fly up from the ground and stick to our mouths. The dad comes over to tell me something and we are trying to pull these things off of our mouths so we can communicate. He informs me that he will be using me as a volunteer for one of the performances coming up. What he was really telling me was something else, I realize, when within minutes a man nurse comes up with a syringe in hand. He tells me he has an injection for me. Neupogen, I think. I feel suddenly very upset. Before rolling up my sleeve in compliance, I complain to him, "I just don't understand why you people keep giving me all these drugs!!!"
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I am at a big store. My mom is there too. She is all dressed up and she has the voice of the main character from "Sex and the City." She is getting on my nerves because she is acting very prissy. I go off to go get my hair done. There is a sort of "interlude"- a short history of the girl who is now a hairdresser. It shows how she got her hair cut in this cute, seventies style. Then how she was inspired to become a hairdresser herself and give others similar do's. Anyway, when I bear my head, we both realize that I don't have any hair to work with really. I tell her that I am going through chemo. She recommends that I grow it out, even though it will be patchy in places. She insists that we could make it work and gives me an example (it is as though I instantly have the hair I would have if I were to grow it out). As she pushes and poofs it up to cover the empty spaces, it (the hairdo. my head.) strikes me as pathetic. I go to find my mom eventually. This part is too strange to explain. Something to do with metal. My mom was upset because metal was making parts of her skin indent slightly. This guy was testing her by putting metal at different parts of her body. I suggested that maybe she was allergic to metal, like I used to be when I wore metal framed glasses. At this point I realized her voice sounded like the woman from "Sex in the City." The last thing I remember was my mom holding two fancy drinks in her hand at once, preparing to leave the store in a fancy shiny black car. She was talking about these younger guys that were hitting on her or checking her out. (Ha ha ha....that is not my mom...it is the show!) She was now just as much the character as she was herself.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
That is it for now. By the way, speaking of mothers, Happy MOTHER'S Day!!!
I love my mama. Even though she might murder me when she reads her role in the dream I just documented. The unconscious is a strange animal. And I've been spending a lot of time with it lately...in my bed! Hmmm...that sounds funny. I like the sound of that. It sounds more exciting than it is. Trust me. (Oh yah, mom...just bring to mind the sweet little poem I wrote you...okay?)
I am glad that I have another week before chemo. I am not ready to have another round of that junk pumped in me yet. I mean...that healing nectar. Plus, I've got a CD Release Party to rehearse for and play on Tuesday!!! I'm trying to stay motivated and positive, while not ignoring or repressing real emotions. But if I am to be honest, I will say that I have spent alot of time lately sleepy and numb. I don't really like the summer heat and I tend to put myself to sleep unless I am actively creating (or destroying?) something. Like what I am doing right now. This captivates my attention....but am I just stroking my ego? Isn't there something inherently self-absorbed about blogging? I guess it can be anything you say it is.
******This is cool:
I just got this e-mail from my Immerman Angel buddy, Jill Nichols. She has survived the same kind of Hodkin's Lymphoma I have and is now running to raise money for the American Cancer Society.
http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/DetermiNation/CRFY09Illinois?px=11210036&pg=personal&fr_id=18802
Fellow musician, Ashley Wells is also running a marathon to raise money for a cure:
http://web.me.com/ashleywells/Charity/Run.html
Very Cool!!!!
