atomic_fungus (atomic_fungus) wrote,
atomic_fungus
atomic_fungus

#2615: It could have been better.

Well, I'm not making beef stroganoff that way again.

Plus side: it doesn't make the house smell like french onion soup.

That is the only positive.

It's edible, but it just doesn't taste as good as the other way; so I'm going to have to put up with the entire house smelling like french onion soup, I guess, whenever I make it.

I got out of the store for $85, which was kind of nice considering all the stuff I was out of. But I didn't buy any meat this time, because there's still stuff in the freezer that needs to get used up.

After the rain passed, the sun came out and it warmed up outside. As I was leaving to go to the store I realized I didn't even need my hoodie, it was so warm. So after I got home, I opened the back door and left the front door open, and got some fresh air in here.

* * *

This morning when I went to get the paper I noticed that the tulips had sprouted. That meant digging out the little wire fence and putting it up; I did that before I left to go to the store. Hopefully the mailman will take the hint and stop walking across there to get at the mailbox.

* * *

Asparagus was $1.38 per pound, so I decided to buy some. I don't get to eat it very often, and it's in season right now. That was the saving grace of tonight's dinner: asparagus!

I've been kind of depressed over the past couple days--situational depression, I mean--because it's springtime and all the things Mom loved are happening: the robins are back. The peepers are peeping. ("Peepers"=small frogs that breed in swampy areas as soon as it gets warm.) The tulips are sprouting. The grass is getting green and the weather is starting to warm up.

All of these remind me that Mom is not around to enjoy them, which makes me sad. Of course.

It's probable that none of this would bother me this much if it wasn't for this dream I had Friday morning before waking up. In that dream, it turned out that there'd been a huge mistake and Mom was, in fact, alive. She was sitting in her usual spot in the family room and telling me I had to take her to some doc appointment; I was trying to explain to her that it was a big f-ing deal that she wasn't dead--I mean, for one thing, we'd have to go undo all the estate stuff that I'd done, and SSI and Medicare would have to be informed, and this and that would have to be done.... She was saying that it wasn't a big deal, and that's about when I woke up.

Nothing so dramatic as me waking up in tears or anything like that. No; I woke up, realized that I'd been dreaming about something impossible, and just felt sad, and that feeling has kind of stuck with me since.

The fact that it's 100% normal and part of the mourning process does not help one whit.

This kind of dream is typical for me when someone close to me dies. Because of my religious beliefs, I attribute these dreams to that person trying to tell me that everything is just fine, and that I can be at ease because I have nothing to mourn. I'm pretty sure Mom was the same way, though she never said so explicitly; she told me about one dream she had where Dad--looking much younger--walked out of the hallway and into the family room, smiling cheerfully at her.

When my friend DB died in 1992, during the following year I had several dreams where I was talking to him and saying, "You have to call your mom and tell her you're alive! You've got to!"

He replied, "No, I don't. She knows I'm okay."

The thing is, it's not anything like the departed sending you a message in your dream, something obvious like, "Don't forget to look in my coat pockets for the cash I stashed in there!" It's like when you're asleep and you hear something, and your somnolent mind incorporates the sound into your dream; what you hear in the dream is not always exactly the sound that your ears receive. The departed shows up in your dream to say, "Hey, relax, everything's just peachy!" and your sleeping brain makes of it what it will. So Mom shows up to try to put me at ease, to tell me it's fine for me to let go, but my brain turns it into the dream I had.

The world is a big, complex place, and there's a lot of stuff that goes on that we don't know anything about. Stuff science can't measure or explain. We're woefully ignorant of most of it, and that's probably just as well, because if we knew one tenth of what's actually out there we'd all hide under our beds and never come out.

Not because it's all sinister and evil--it's probably about 50/50--but because bad or good it's scary stuff. We fear the unknown, and we fear things we can't see or touch, and even coming face-to-face with God Himself--the very personificaton of good!--is a frightening prospect for us. We can't handle it; we're not built to. We're built to deal with a physical world.

* * *

...if I keep going this is going to turn into some kind of occult/supernatural/religion/philosophy rant, and I don't have the energy for that right now. Heh.

* * *

Asparagus: as I was bringing in the groceries I was trying to decide whether or not I'd have the asparagus with tonight's meal. Feeling down as I have, I thought it'd be a nice little pick-me-up to have something special, though, so I decided I'd have it.

...the fact that I was feeling a bit down triggered some weird mental path, and I thought, "Would you like some DESPAIRagus with your meal?"

I burst out laughing and simply could not stop. "Despairagus". O Lord. I need to get out more.
Subscribe

  • #7871: What's broken NOW??

    Had to go to far off-site (soon to be main site) today, so I was able to see my new office. They've already got a nameplate outside it! How long has…

  • #7870: Heavy rain

    Probably the last thunderstorm of the year, hard rain. Weather site says "2 to 3 inches of rain"--for the day, I think--and I'm not inclined to doubt…

  • #7869: Here comes the rain (again)

    Up a bit after sunrise, did the pre-blog surf and found nothing I really wanted to comment about; but in the meantime the light coming in from…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 0 comments