They're not really nightmares; usually they're more annoying than scary. Sometimes they're perfused with a nervous feeling.
I was having a dream about it being Christmastime in Crete, but it was somehow a warm summer day, and I wandered through a festival held by some eastern European sect of Christianity. (There is no such sect, I am sure, and even if there is they are not well-represented in Crete.)
I was trying to go home and this kid latched onto me--some stranger's kid, maybe five years old, playing some kind of dominance game that these people played where they grab onto you and hang on and it hurts. Of course they spoke no English so I couldn't tell the kid to leave me alone, but he would not let go, so I dragged him over to the tractor (?) and body-slammed him against one of its rear wheels. That made him let go. It also made him cry, but I didn't even feel remotely guilty about it. His mother--who had watched the entire thing--didn't even blink. (Next time maybe you'll pick your battles more wisely, kid.)
Next I found myself at some kind of huge SF convention, but for some reason there was a "memorial" service being held there. The "memorial" aspect turned out to be a "bait-and-switch" because it was just a pretext for getting people to listen to some asshat talk about how they had to come to Jesus.
I couldn't just leave, unfortunately, so I was trying to read something, and the alleged "preacher" ended up using me as an example. He came over and sat next to me and talked about how only he could save my soul--as if he were the reincarnation of Jesus or something--and if I didn't accept that I was going to go to Hell. It was the kind of unctuous crap that I hate about some forms of Christianity, the kind of BS that leads to "hell houses" and all the other stupid garbage.
I recall him telling me that I would "have to" do this or that if I didn't accept his version of Christianity, and I told him that I didn't "have to" do anything he wanted me to, because this is America and we have freedom of religion, and a lot of other things.
That got him mad at me, and he attacked me, so I had to punch him. Repeatedly.
* * *
What's most interesting about these dreams is their resolutions--most of the time when I have dreams like these, they just continue to be annoying until I finally wake up. If I try to do anything to fix the problems, the solution usually ends up making things worse.
This time, my actions made things better. Not only that, but they were satisfying.
* * *
I drew a funny little cartoon at work last night. I still don't have a scanner that works with Vista, so I can't post it (yet).
I was doodling and drew a picture of a girl with her hair blowing in the wind--but it would have to be a pretty strong wind, I realized, to make it look the way I drew it, so I drew a stick-figure martian guy who was yelling, "WTF, is she standing in a freaking TYPHOON?"
Then I drew another pic below it, more cartoony, of the same girl hanging onto a bending post, her hair sticking straight out behind her, her clothes blowing in the wind, including her skirt, and the martian guy was looking up her skirt, rubbing his hands, and saying, "White!"
...'cause...he could see her panties....get it?
IT'S FUNNY. LAUGH, DAMN IT.
* * *
I know this is about as interesting as watching cheese ferment, but I've been slowly collecting some spam for another spam post.
* * *
Winter solstice is in one week. It seemed terribly dark this morning, when I was still at work, but that was because of heavy, low clouds. It was still completely dark when I went into the store. I loaded the truck, and went outside to pull it off the dock--and noticed that it had suddenly gotten light outside, during the 20 minute period that I'd been fiddling with cargo.
* * *
Last night was not an easy night. Mostly I drove the truck, but I had to load and unload the thing. The pallets I took to the warehouse on my first trip--none of them had been wrapped, so I had to wrap them and put them on the truck one-by-one. That took 1.3 hours to accomplish.
The truck unload wasn't done until 12:30 AM; two trucks, 1900 cartons each, yeesh--welcome to Christmas season--and it was the third double of the week. (Fortunately, we're staying caught up, so it was also the last double until Monday.)
So from the end of first break until the beginning of lunch--about an hour and a quarter, more or less--I spent wrapping pallets and putting them onto the truck. Once back from lunch I finished that task and took the load to the warehouse. Came back to the store, dealt with the stuff that had to come back to the store, and then started loading up for my second trip.
The second trip--I didn't get out of the store until 5:30 AM, and I had to stop at the gas station for fuel since the truck was sucking fumes. (It took $200 worth of diesel--two tanks, at least 30 gallons each...yowch.)
I ended up being at work until 7 AM again, and that was the absolute earliest I could get out of there.
The bosses had wanted me to drive the truck and do Receiving. I had enough to do just driving the truck! I worked at full speed whenever I wasn't on break, save for one three-minute conversation I had with a coworker, and it took me an extra hour to get the truck stuff done.
Well, that's the holiday season for you.
I punched out at 7:10 AM, came home, had a shower, and then had a hot soak. And my arms and legs still hurt.
I suppose it's nice to know that my bosses think so highly of my ability, but I'm not Superman. I've got two hands and one brain and I can only do one thing at a time.
Maybe if I were Birefringent Man, maybe then I could have driven the truck and done Receiving, but work takes time, and there are only seven working hours in an eight-hour shift. If I'm driving the truck, I can't do Receiving, and vice-versa.
So I did what I could, and I don't feel bad about not living up to (unrealistic) expectations. Maybe that'll change when I have my next review and they tell me that my performance sucked because I didn't do everything I was told to do. But I'm hoping they're not turning into Dilbert's pointy-haired boss.
* * *
So I'm tired and achy and I have to go to work again on Friday. *sigh* Well, I'll manage, somehow.
I finished watching Amaenaideyo! Katsu this morning. There was a blurb about the series continuing, but nothing I can count on being true--so who knows WTF is going on. I'd like there to be more of that series, though.
There are ten episodes left in Pretty Cure. It'll be interesting to see how things play out; but once that's done there are another 47 episodes in Pretty Cure Max Heart.
* * *
I'm going back to bed now.