Sunday morning

Feeling better. Stiff and groggy, but definitely in the recovery stage. Should feel fine in time to head to work tomorrow, drat it.

Very odd dream last night, which I also posted in a Weird Dreams thread in Liz Holliday's SFFNet group. Didn't like it a bit even though I didn't feel scared. I seem to often play host to unpleasant dreams that never quite segue into nightmare. I have frex dreamed of being chased by a vampire and recall not being afraid in the least. I flee through a maze of buildings and watch his shadow draw closer with an observer's detachment. It wasn't that I knew that I wasn't in any danger--danger didn't even enter into the thought process. Yet the shadows kept closing in.

Anyway, back to last night's dream. In the first section, I seem to have been involved in planning a charity walk/run. Nothing in this part of the dream is very definite. I recall images of people walking/running down beaches--this was all sepia-tinted.
I remember sensing the presence of a friend who had recently died. Not precisely seeing her, but talking to her and knowing she was there. At the end of this section, I learned that an older cousin, who was also involved in the planning, had
been diagnosed with breast cancer--she went to see the doctor for one problem, and left with a bigger one.

The section segued into the second part without really resolving. In the second part, I'm in an office cubicle area, and Spike is one of my cubemates. For some reason, he arranges for my cubicle to be specially cleaned--I don't recall whether it's because he's the housekeeping contact or if he just arranges it. When I visit my cube after the cleaning, I find that a pen-and-ink drawing of one of my book covers has been destroyed. The frame has been smashed and the drawn image, which sometimes appears black/pebbled and sometimes bright cobalt blue and smooth, has been crumpled, causing flecks of ink to flake off. I show the damaged drawing to Spike, and tell him that I'm going to have to send it to the artist so he can repair it. The conclusion is that the housekeeper was so upset about being ordered to work late that he took it out on my drawing, but I don't recall him being punished or anyone, including Spike, being particularly upset about the damage.

This part also remained unresolved as it segued into the last part of the dream. This part had overlapped with the Spike part. In it, I have some containers of yogurt in the office refrigerator, and I'm trying to figure out how to get them home. Seems that in order to cut costs, the yogurt manufacturers had begun packaging their product in flimsy, paper-thin containers.
Every time I touched one, the sides crumpled and the lid popped off and curled up. I was trying to figure out how to transport the containers when the dream ended.

I'm trying to recall if I have ever had a dream that I enjoyed being in so much that I didn't want to wake up. I can't think of one, not even the Monty Pythonesque baseball dream. In that one, the Chicago White Sox were playing, though who they played I can't recall. They wore those hideous uniforms from the 70s with old-fashioned banded baseball caps. Hitters would come up to the plate and swing at the pitches, but instead of the ball itself being hit, the batter would be launched into the air. I recall outfielders standing beneath falling players, arms outstretched as they waved off teammates "I've got it! I've got it!" Then the launched player would fall on them and smash them flat. Like I said, Pythonesque.

Sunday morning

Feeling better. Stiff and groggy, but definitely in the recovery stage. Should feel fine in time to head to work tomorrow, drat it.

Very odd dream last night, which I also posted in a Weird Dreams thread in Liz Holliday's SFFNet group. Didn't like it a bit even though I didn't feel scared. I seem to often play host to unpleasant dreams that never quite segue into nightmare. I have frex dreamed of being chased by a vampire and recall not being afraid in the least. I flee through a maze of buildings and watch his shadow draw closer with an observer's detachment. It wasn't that I knew that I wasn't in any danger--danger didn't even enter into the thought process. Yet the shadows kept closing in.

Anyway, back to last night's dream. In the first section, I seem to have been involved in planning a charity walk/run. Nothing in this part of the dream is very definite. I recall images of people walking/running down beaches--this was all sepia-tinted.
I remember sensing the presence of a friend who had recently died. Not precisely seeing her, but talking to her and knowing she was there. At the end of this section, I learned that an older cousin, who was also involved in the planning, had
been diagnosed with breast cancer--she went to see the doctor for one problem, and left with a bigger one.

The section segued into the second part without really resolving. In the second part, I'm in an office cubicle area, and Spike is one of my cubemates. For some reason, he arranges for my cubicle to be specially cleaned--I don't recall whether it's because he's the housekeeping contact or if he just arranges it. When I visit my cube after the cleaning, I find that a pen-and-ink drawing of one of my book covers has been destroyed. The frame has been smashed and the drawn image, which sometimes appears black/pebbled and sometimes bright cobalt blue and smooth, has been crumpled, causing flecks of ink to flake off. I show the damaged drawing to Spike, and tell him that I'm going to have to send it to the artist so he can repair it. The conclusion is that the housekeeper was so upset about being ordered to work late that he took it out on my drawing, but I don't recall him being punished or anyone, including Spike, being particularly upset about the damage.

This part also remained unresolved as it segued into the last part of the dream. This part had overlapped with the Spike part. In it, I have some containers of yogurt in the office refrigerator, and I'm trying to figure out how to get them home. Seems that in order to cut costs, the yogurt manufacturers had begun packaging their product in flimsy, paper-thin containers.
Every time I touched one, the sides crumpled and the lid popped off and curled up. I was trying to figure out how to transport the containers when the dream ended.

I'm trying to recall if I have ever had a dream that I enjoyed being in so much that I didn't want to wake up. I can't think of one, not even the Monty Pythonesque baseball dream. In that one, the Chicago White Sox were playing, though who they played I can't recall. They wore those hideous uniforms from the 70s with old-fashioned banded baseball caps. Hitters would come up to the plate and swing at the pitches, but instead of the ball itself being hit, the batter would be launched into the air. I recall outfielders standing beneath falling players, arms outstretched as they waved off teammates "I've got it! I've got it!" Then the launched player would fall on them and smash them flat. Like I said, Pythonesque.