The Daily Mustard|
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Wednesday, December 19th, 2007
My dreams tend toward the Big Production. They are very involved, highly narrative, quite vivid. Of course, five minutes after I've gotten up, they've evaporated from my memory, but that's beside the point. The thing that sticks with me is this: my Dream Self is much nicer than my Waking Self.
I mean, my Waking Self is prone to all sorts of vile thoughts and feelings: anger; lust; violence; greed; you name it. But no matter what the dream is I'm having, my Dream Self will usually not entertain or express such things. I have always taken comfort in this. After all, if one's Dream Self is an indication of one's unconscious, if one's dreams are in any sense an expression of one's "true" mind, then there's hope for me. Someday, I may be as good a person in real life as I am in my dreams.
On the other hand, I can see that it might be possible to experience it all backwards. There are probably plenty of folks whose Dream Selves do things that they would never let their Waking Selves contemplate. And they probably comfort themselves that their dreams are, after all, not "real" -- just "wandering thoughts" that need to be "made captive to Christ." For them, real life as it is really lived is the most proper expression of one's "true" mind.
And who can say who is right? Let everyone take comfort where one can.
I'm taking collinsmom
to the ER. She had the vision in one eye go all strange on her the other day: a "lace pattern" was how she put it. This morning, she had a lot of "floaties" in her eye. Now, she's complaining that her eye hurts, and her face around the eye is reddened. So, it's off we go.
Took Deanne to the ER. Took a nap, sort of, while waiting for their mills to grind. The ER doc sent her to a local ophthalmologist. The verdict is an inflammation, most likely related to her rheumatoid arthritis. He prescribed two kinds of eye drops. Went to our regular pharmacy; they only had one kind. Wound up at a second pharmacy to complete the order. All told, we spent nearly five hours dealing with it.
Came home exhausted. I whomped up some supper for us and we watched the news. D. is feeling some better. I was trying to count up how many doctors and therapists she's been to since the semester ended last week. Counting the vet, it's about six or so.
On the veterinarian front, Sassy's troubles may be starting up again. If it's not one family member sick, it's another. Anyway, things should be clear enough for me to get out of town tomorrow. I certainly hope so. I can't take care of sick wife, sick dog, distressed out-of-town son, parishioners in hospital, etc., unless I take care of me, too.
|And they call the Breeze Miranda . . .
Today, my '97 Plymouth Breeze, hight Miranda, officially kicked over 300,000 miles. That would be all the way to the Moon and about seven times around Lady Luna -- or ten Ranger miles in all, as they say at Philmont. And she's still going!
Click on pic to enlarge for odometer reading.
To travel hopefully is not better than arriving, it is the means of arriving.