Books Unread, Jokes Untold-the pursuit of life

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Sybil September 21, 2007

Filed under: ?Baby?,Naval Gazing — booksunread @ 12:51 pm

It’s Friday and I am cashed out. How sad is it that by 7am I am plotting my Friday evening something like this: acupuncture, dinner, walk dog, kiss husband, bed.  I have not been getting enough sleep this week. I think it’s a festive combo of having my thoughts on this current cycle, some library books I’m reluctant to put down at lights out and a bad, crying in my sleep nightmare Monday night that makes lights out even less attractive.

It’s so stupid that this nightmare in particular should keep me up, but I am ridiculous and full of irrational fears.  Basically in the dream, a creepy, mean little girl ghost was terrorizing us in our house.  Which was made all the more vivid by the fact that it was actually very visually in our house-you know how sometimes in your dream, you’re in your “house” but it’s nothing like your real life house so you can dismiss the rest of the dream as totally ridiculous as well?  Well, totally the opposite of that. And she had a creepy baby brother ghost with her and it was all very much like a cheesy crap Lifetime “scary” movie where the barren woman gets haunted by a creepy kid only to discover a creepy kid died in her house under mysterious circumstances and it was all an accident and the kid just wants to be forgiven. Which I haven’t watched such a crap fest in years, and have not even recently seen a commercial for one, so I don’t even know how this penetrated my subconscious (except maybe I’m equating myself with the barren woman?).

In my logical, rational, real life head, I don’t believe in the existence of ghosts.  I roll my eyes at people who earnestly tell me about the family ghost that turned on the tv or moved the pictures around and one time, they woke up and dead grandma was standing at the foot of the bed or something.  I’m a pretty cynical person and I operate on a “I’ll believe it when I see it” system (see also: agnostic).  That being said, on the ghost front, I do not have any interest in confronted with proof that I’m wrong.

On a good night, when I’m home alone, or sometimes just when I’m up kind of late, even with Miguel sleeping in the bed beside me, I’ll hear a creek or a noise, and lay there wide eyed in the dark, straining to hear the sounds of a psycho killer approaching our ostensibly slumbering, vulnerable forms.  I think maybe I watch too much CSI and Law and Order.  So you pile in a new fear of not wanting to look too closely into dark corners for fear that there is a creepy little girl ghost standing right there, and you have a recipe for a hard time turning off the light and dozing off.

I’ve camped out in the guest room the last couple nights b/c I’ve gone to bed late and wanted to read for a while before bed.  Last night, I seriously considered going back to crawl into bed with Miguel, just like a little kid who had a nightmare. If it hadn’t meant rousing the dog from her pup bed and dragging her along, I totally would have done it.  (Yes, I have a dog, which adds a whole level of irrational to the psycho killer stalker paranoia; as Miguel keeps trying to reassure me, she would warn us if there was an intruder…as she barely cocks an eye when you get of bed and practically step on her late at night, I have my doubts).

So I read until pretty late last night and then when I finally turned the lights out, my mind kept wandering back to scary dream.  So I started thinking of other things, like this cycle and the fact that it feels like my ovaries are literally twitching and I’m worried we’ll overshoot and get cancelled, and the fact that I have a new employee starting in a week and all I have to do to get ready for him and what it will be like managing someone new, etc.

Which leads me (FINALLY!) to the title of this post, because as my brain was on the hamster wheel, I noticed that I was kind of thinking in the “voice” of the character of the book I’d just read.  Like I was writing a book in my head.  Which led me to think about the fact that I tend to do this a lot; after reading Bridget Jones for the billionth time, I find myself thinking that “I’d quite fancy a fag right now; that would be brilliant. But n.v.g. as am trying to be super committed non-smoking type person.”  I do the same thing after talking to/hanging out with Salsera for a while; I’m suddenly all about the “y’alls” and “I’m fucking this cat.”  So then I was thinking, “Damn, I am weird. I have multiple personalities.” 

Like Sybil, geddit? That’s your payoff for reading through this ramble. You’re welcome.

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