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A bag of bits
Sep. 24th, 2014 08:50 amThis is the second time I have tried to write this post. I ended up locking the first attempt - unusual for me, as I don't keep much private now that so few people are around. There are still some things I can't share, even with an empty room. Speaking of an empty room, I kind of want to get rid of my old videos and portfolios on various sites...they don't seem to have anything to do with me now. But it seems like such a chore. There are new things I want to do with my life, but I won't talk about them until I've made them real.
So onwards.
First there was a dream...there are dreams every night now; how strange that I dreamed nothing except those curious half awake things for nearly 3 years! Now there is a growing vivid quality, plots and scenarios and landscapes. Last night's adventure was not all pleasant: I had learned to walk/swim in the air. My mother was with me. She couldn't do it but she was perfectly measured about my being able to...unlike two men who passed by. One stared at me unpleasantly and told me I was deluded. Beyond that, there was a decision to plant out my front garden with roses, but the house was not my current one - it was the place in which I spent most of my childhood, Devizes.
Then there are the stitches. I have miscalculated these, having convinced myself that I had the mole removed last week rather than the week before. They need removing desperately, the skin is growing around them fast, and they sit there, little strained blue knots. Do I really need a nurse to get rid of these? I just need a small very sharp knife, I tried with little scissors yesterday, ended up tugging frantically and it hurt like billy-oh.
And finally: my kitchen window makes me happy.
So onwards.
First there was a dream...there are dreams every night now; how strange that I dreamed nothing except those curious half awake things for nearly 3 years! Now there is a growing vivid quality, plots and scenarios and landscapes. Last night's adventure was not all pleasant: I had learned to walk/swim in the air. My mother was with me. She couldn't do it but she was perfectly measured about my being able to...unlike two men who passed by. One stared at me unpleasantly and told me I was deluded. Beyond that, there was a decision to plant out my front garden with roses, but the house was not my current one - it was the place in which I spent most of my childhood, Devizes.
Then there are the stitches. I have miscalculated these, having convinced myself that I had the mole removed last week rather than the week before. They need removing desperately, the skin is growing around them fast, and they sit there, little strained blue knots. Do I really need a nurse to get rid of these? I just need a small very sharp knife, I tried with little scissors yesterday, ended up tugging frantically and it hurt like billy-oh.
And finally: my kitchen window makes me happy.
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