Friday, June 29, 2012

Flash Fiction: The Dead

Another quick Flash Fiction challenge from Terrible Minds. This one is for a 3 sentence, 100 word story. I did my best! It's slightly based off a current work in progress.

I liked the dead, they didn’t treat you bad, they didn’t beat you and they didn’t threaten to sell you to slavers when you messed up.
My parents were addicts, always needing another fix and always beating me up until I got their next batch, but the dead didn’t try any of that, so was it strange that I wanted my parents dead and finally killed them?
The dead were eternally patient and always forgiving; my dead parents were more loving than they ever had been in life and I had a happy and stable family, the one I’d always wanted.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Dreamtime Dreamscape: Winter at Rosedale

It's been a few days since I've had a chance to write out my dreams. I have had some, though they haven't been the most interesting. Just strange.

Last night's dream is still with me, so I'll try to get it down before it wisps away.

I grew up in Minnesota, the land of snow, and large indoor malls. Besides the infamous Mall of America, there was six or so smaller malls. This dream primarily takes place at one called Rosedale, and the surrounding area. It's a big mall with a dark stone exterior. In my dream, the inside was all done in fake white marble floors and walls, with giant escalators between floors and huge department stores.

I was at the mall picking out a dress for my sister's wedding. This was very important to me, I wanted to get the right dress. At the beginning of the dream, I didn't know how I got there, I just knew I went to Rosedale right after work. I was also terribly sick.

I went into one of the large women's clothing stores based off Lane Bryant and asked to see the formal wear. I was brought to the back where huge prom dresses were on tall racks, all in a long row, like at a dry cleaner's. I was very sick. I kept having to blow my nose and sit down because I was shaking so bad. My arms were heavy (probably because in real life my shoulders are really sore) I kept having to ask the store attendants to lift the heavy dresses down for me.

I found a dress I liked, something simple compared to the sequined and multi-layered skirt monstrosities I kept seeing.

There was this one I remember looking at, it was a giant bell skirt, so tall that the person wearing it had to stand on huge foot tall shoes. The purple skirt billowed out, then right at floor level, came back in, so it make a purple globe around the wearer's legs and enormous shoes. The purple was that obnoxious purple found in so many prom dresses, the not quite vibrant purple, not quite pastel purple color. The dress was held out in it's ball form by these long wires under it, creating a diamond pattern. I think I've dreamed of this dress before. It felt familiar in it's general ugliness.

By the time I checked out, I was so sick I couldn't stand. I knew I had to get myself home.

I went outside. (Mysteriously the dress I bought vanished. I thought about it later in the dream and reminded myself I'd had it delivered to the church in the morning. Totally rationalized it, heh.) It was snowing. It was that late night snow we got in Minnesota so often. The sky was a muted orange red color from the street lights reflecting around a million bits of snow, and sounds were muffled. The ground had a very light dusting, but it was far enough into winter that slushy brown/black snow was piled up in the corners of the parking lot and I had to watch where I stepped or I would land in a big mess of it. The new snow looked pretty on top of the old dirt covered piles.

The snow was so familiar to me, I can picture it exactly in my head, down to the way the cars in the parking lot would have those first few layers of snow turn into water because the cars had been warmed by the drive to the mall. I could tell which cars were from employees because theirs were the most dusted with actual snow.

I was desperate to find my car, I wanted to be gone before the mall closed and before the snow got worse. I kept walking through parking lots filled with red cars. At first, I was looking for my old Ford Contour car, which was the color of dirt and old snow. I thought maybe I couldn't see it because of the color. I remembered, then, that in my dream I had just gotten the new Chevy Malibu we have now. The car is red, with some chrome trim. I started to look for the Malibu, but every car was red with chrome trim. I was shaking and near tears. Every car looked almost exactly like my new car, but it wasn't. I found a car almost exactly like mine, but the keys didn't work. I had to look at the licence plates to realize it wasn't mine. These plates started with X89, I remember that. I don't know why.

It was late, my sister's wedding was in the morning. I had to call someone to pick me up. I didn't want to call anyone because I was so far away from home. Rosedale was on the other side of the Twin Cities from my home.

I was about to call someone when I remembered. I couldn't find the car because the day before we had been at Rosedale, switching over cars. I'd parked the Contour in the parking lot, then went out and bought the Malibu. Then, I'd gotten dropped off at the mall to pick up the Contour and drive it back to the car dealership to trade it in. So neither the Contour or Malibu would be in the parking lot.

I was stranded.

I cried a little at this point in my dream. I was so tired, so sick, and I had to get home so I could go to my sister's wedding the next day. I considered asking one of the police to drive me home, but they were busy. There were no taxi's this late.

Shaking and alone, I called my dad. I hadn't wanted to call him, he had to get up really early to get the church ready. I told him that. He told me, in his usual calm manner, that it was fine. I told him how mad and upset I was that once again I was going to lay something like picking me up from a mall on his shoulders, and he reminded me that I was his daughter, and fathers pick up their lost kids. He was so calm about it. He was always calm about things like this when I was a kid. It immediately calmed me down. He told me he was on his way, and told me I would be safe. I walked around the mall and he talked to me the whole time, keeping me talking and alert so I didn't fall asleep from my sickness.

I remember waking up feeling a bit of a lump in my throat because I was so happy my dad was going to pick me up. My dad was going to lose sleep and probably spend yet another day half awake and for his eldest daughter's wedding none the less, just so he could make sure I got home safe. I remember that darned ugly purple dress. As I'd called dad, I saw some lady walking out into the near-blizzard with the dress on. The lady had to have security guards keep her upright or that stupid dress would make her fall. Heh.

I woke up when I saw dad's car pulling into the mall's parking lot. Relief filled me and I didn't care how sick I was, I knew I was going to be safe.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Father's Day: Hardware Stores

My Dad.
It's Father's Day weekend! My papa is miles away in Minnesota, so I don't get to spend any time with him. I wish I could. Dad and I have always been close. We think a lot alike, and I fondly remember trips to the hardwares stores with him.

Dad is the reason I know my way around power tools and how to fix things. He was a computer programer type guy by day, home remodeler by night. I remember groaning on weekends that he wanted to drag me to the hardware store yet again for some part to fix a leaky faucet, or to install bookshelves, or build a deck... It's funny that now I look back on those moments with fondness.

I was always a putterer. While dad was talking to the local hardware guys about how to fix this or install that, I was poking at wood dowels, comparing different screw sizes, or I was walking down aisles filled with PVC pipes and imagining how much fun they would be to hook up into a long tube run for my hamsters.

These days I'm a lot less prone to wandering around hardware stores, but I still am happy to walk into one and imagine all kinds of things I could do if I had time. Those little drawers filled with screws remind me of my dad's badly organized workbench in the basement where he had a thousand things to poke at.

Eventually his collection of tools grew too large for the work bench and he took over the garage. It was harder to rifle through boxes in the garage, but I still managed to spend a few too many hours looking at tools and parts. I'm probably part of the reason dad couldn't find things sometimes. His system of organization made sense to him, but not to me. I probably misplaced more things that I'd like to admit.

I don't know of many dads out there like mine. If a water pipe broke, he'd pull out a torch and weld it back in place, and he'd make sure I watched and he'd teach me why you had to let the pipe get hot enough that the solder just went into the seam instead of trying to force it.

If they wanted a bookshelf along the entire basement wall, he built it. Heck, he built two decks, and one of them was a second story deck built after the one original to the house crashed to the ground! He did all his projects almost entirely by himself, with the occasional help from me.

He spent the whole time doing projects telling me what he was doing, going through the list of steps he made with me, and made sure to ask me if I wanted to watch him and learn. He'd show me the diagrams and lists, go through how to level the shelves, and point out the troublesome areas to me. He took his time to make sure I understood the process.

He never once said I couldn't help, that I couldn't learn from him. I never got the conversation about how I was a girl and couldn't do manly things. It was just assumed I could. Sure, I had Barbie dolls and played with girly thing, but I also was the dad's helper. I played the role of both the youngest daughter and the youngest son, and I really didn't realize it was strange at all until I was older.

If dad needed help holding a board, and I was the one to do it. If dad had to move a ton of boards to the backyard for the deck, I was the one called to help him. I hated it as a kid, I felt like the family mule sometimes (and would tell everyone quite vocally that this was true) but now I look back and realize what I learned from it.

Sometimes you just had to move those boards, build a deck, or fix a leaky faucet. Instead of complaining, you just got it done, no matter how many trips to the hardware store it took, and sometimes it took a whole heck of a lot of visits to the hardware stores. And when you went, you always tried to take your kid with you, so they'd learn something, even if they were bored the whole time.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Vivi's Favorite Joke on Caturday!

We were telling jokes to Vivipoofer and she really like the chicken crossing the road one.

Why did the chicken cross the road? 
To get eaten by Vivi, of course! 

Oh, our cats. They love their jokes!

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Dreamtime Dreamscape: Elements Fire and Water

This is a long dream, as often happens on Sunday mornings when I sleep in, my mind generates a long dream that could easily become it's own story if I fleshed it out. Once I finish my other novel, perhaps I'll put this one into a novel format. I realize it has similarities to Avatar: The Last Airbender, but differences as well. I've dreamed a lot about the four elements, so it's not an uncommon theme, even before the awesome TV show.

The world was made of mostly water. There were four kinds of people, one for each element. The world was dying.

The dream started on a ship filled with the fire people. They were ruled by a stubborn king, who was tired of the constant battles they had with the people of earth and air, but he could see no alies. No one had seen the water people in generations. The legends spoke of them, but no one had ever seen one. It was believed that the water had risen when the last of the water people died.

The ship was the last fire people ship, and it wasn't even theirs. It had symboles and buttons and slots all around the ship, but no one knew what they were for. My character, a girl (I will name her Jill) was an orphan that the king adopted in hopes that having a female in the royal line would strengthen the line. There were two sons, James and Joseph (making up the names on the fly here).

The ship was enormous, like an aircraft carrier size. It was black metal, the same metal that made up the swords the fire people used.

Their swords had thick handles of black metal, and a fire person could focus their powers on the handle and create a broad and thick blade of red hot light, out to the metal tip that was pushed out of the handle when the blade was activated. It was rumored that the ships and the swords were created by fire people, but no one knew for sure.

Jill was a scholar more than a fighter. She wanted to learn what the symbols were on the ship and had spent most of her life trying to find their meaning. She had found slots that fit the fire swords perfectly, but they didn't work. She was also interested in a semicircle of metal different than the rest of the ship. It was located right below the front mast of the ship, between the mast and the first of the giant smoke stacks. The smoke stacks didn't actually work. Though the ship moved forward, it didn't use the original engines. No one knew how to use them, so other means were used.

Her brothers were mighty fighters, like their father was. Broad shouldered from years using the fire blades, they looked like brutes, but they were smart and kind to their little sister. They also knew, eventually, one of them might have to marry her. She was adopted so her blood wasn't theirs, and there were few fire people left. All three knew this, and though Jill opposed the idea, the brothers always kept it in mind. They treated her as one would treat a potential wife. It bothered her. She thought of them only as brothers.

One night while she was on the top deck, looking at one of the sword slots yet again, the air people attacked. They could fly though the air and by attacking at night, they could not be seen easily. Her brothers tried to save her, but they were overrun. She was grabbed by one of the air people and taken hostage.

She did not want to be taken hostage, of course, and fought her captors on the way to their fortress, which her people assumed was in the sky. The air people were a mystery, all wore long cloaks made of reeds that covered their faces and body. No one had ever seen an air person, even when they were killed in battle, other air people would quickly take the body and fly away with it. It was suicide to fight the air person who carried her, she would fall if she broke free, but she could not be taken prisoner. She knew too much of her people and of the ship.

They had flown into the clouds when the grip of her captor was broken. She fell. The air person tried to follow, but she fell too fast. Jill had the foresight to swing her body around into an arrow shape so she hit the water cleanly. The impact nearly killed her, and it broke her fingers and forced the air from her lungs. Her last thoughts were that she had at least become free of the air people, and the ship was safe.

She woke in a dark place. It was damp. She could hear moisture dripping off the walls. She opened her eyes to find herself on a bed. She was in some kind of cave, lit by blue lights mounted on the walls. Her hands were bandaged and she wore a plain blue dress in a soft fabric she'd never seen before.

The writing on the wall made it clear where she was. She knew the script from the looping language found on the ship. Everyone else had told her the loops carved or made into the ship's metal were just designs, but Jill had always thought they were writing by the water people. It made sense to her that the fire and water people had worked together ages ago to make the ship. She had hypothesized that when the air people started attacking the others, the two remaining tribes had joined together to make the ship to keep the fire people safe. Something had happened to the water people, perhaps it was as the legends said and they all died, but raised the water level across the world in the process, or perhaps the water people just went into hiding. Jill was alone in her thinking that the water people were alive. No one else believed her theory.

Now she was with the water people. She hadn't seen a single person but she knew it to be true in the bones of her body. The script on the walls confirmed it. She only wished she knew what the writing said.

The door to the cave opened. She realized she hadn't even seen the door, the lights were dim except around the writing, so she hadn't exactly looked around.

A trio came through. Two brothers and a man who must be the king. It stunned her how similar it was to her own people. The brothers were thin and lanky, and they wore the handles of swords like those the fire people used, though their metal wasn't in nearly as good of a shape. Their handles were pitted with rust and age. All three had gills in their necks and webbed fingers. They wore skin tight clothing in blues and purples, though the king wore a cape of living green kelp.

She was drawn to the brothers, and she spoke to all three of them of the plight of her people. The brothers listened, and only one showed any desire to help. Henry, the eldest, did not see any point to helping the fire people, while Patrick, the youngest, wanted to help.

She spent a few weeks in the water kingdom, learning how to read their language and learning as much as she could. She also spent a lot of time with Patrick. He was a good warrior, but as her brothers had their gentle side, Patrick did as well. She was drawn to him. Henry fell immediately into the brother category, but Patrick did not. She knew she would be his wife, even if he did not know it.

They would have been content to stay underwater and send Jill back to the surface unharmed until they were attacked by air people, who had learned how to create bubbles of air long enough so they could attack. Jill pleaded to the king that she be allowed to go back to her ship to see if her people would help the water people. He allowed it, and sent Patrick with her.

Once on the ship, her father and brothers thought that Patrick had been the one to capture her. They were mad with grief and wouldn't listen to Jill. Patrick was sent to the jail cell inside the ship. At the same time they were attacked by the air people, who had followed Patrick and Jill as they had sped through the water. With a battle going on, her brothers couldn't listen to Jill, they didn't have the time.

She realized quickly this wasn't just a normal air people attack. It was an all out war. They were leaving their dead on the deck of the ship, and more were coming with a storm that was sweeping over the water. Had they learned how to harness a storm as well? It only reinforced the belief in James and Joseph that Patrick had allied with the air people and had created the storm to wipe out the last of the fire people.

Jill knew she had to do something. She tried her best to help with the fighting, but she was no warrior. She could use only the most rudimentary fire skills. Instead her eyes were drawn to the writing along the ship, which she now understood. The words were simple. Weapon, healing, defense. Each slot looked like it fit the water sword, not the bulkier fire blades.

She weaved around fighting, ducking away and dodging around groups that fought each other. She had to find where they put the water sword! The ship began to sway with the strong winds, making the way even more difficult. Determinedly, she clung onto the floor of the ship, digging her hands into the carved letters and raised areas on the ship. She realized that perhaps the bumps in the floor that had always been a nuisance were there for a reason, to keep people able to walk along the ship even when it was tilting from side to side.

She made it to the king's chamber at the front of the ship and despite protests from the king, she took Patrick's confiscated weapon. She told him she would prove to everyone that the water people would help them. The king, being stubborn and proud, did not believe her.

Her hands were shaking as she flipped on the water blade. It was the first time she'd seen one activated. Despite the rust, it was a thing of beauty. In her hands it felt like it belonged there. The blade was made of blue light, the tip looked like an octopus' tentacle, it was a thing of beauty. She knew a little of sword fighting and used it to clear as much of a path as she could manage to the first slot. Joseph saw her, and did not ask to help, but protected her as she slammed the sword into the first sword slot.

It fit, perfectly. The ship righted itself, despite the waves around it, and it felt like it rooted itself in the water. It still pitched and rolled, but it was less out of control. It gave the fire people a slim advantage, the air people had been winning because they could fly. Now the fire people could root themselves on the ship to do their attacks.

Encouraged, Joseph conceded that she perhaps knew what she was talking about, and helped protect her to the next slot. When she slammed the blade into it, the deck of the ship shifted. It split apart and between the splits were glowing blue lines. Once the movement was done, the deck was larger, wider, and interlaced with the blue glowing lines. She took only a moment to see the one closest to her and saw the lines were tubes filled with blue, thick water. It glowed for some unknown reason. She knew Patrick would know.

Joseph told her to get Patrick, to save him and figure out what to do. The air people were relentless, and the fire people would be wiped out if any more of the fighters died. Time was not on their side.

Jill ran as fast as she could and reached the jail. Patrick saw her harried look and took only a moment to embrace her. It bolstered her confidence and the feeling that she would marry Patrick. Being in his arms, even for that moment, had felt like home. She didn't dwell on the feeling, instead she all but dragged him to the deck of the ship.

Patrick took in what was happening in seconds. The blue lines, he said, were filled with a type of water that he could use to attack. It was something he'd only seen a half dozen times. No one knew how to make the thick water anymore, there was precious little of it left. He went to the closest line and drew the water up and around his arms. It curled around them in thick ropes, extending to his hands where they formed weapons. Jill only had to point out which were the air people before he attacked. The water extended his arms and flowed with him like it was a part of him. When a portion of the thick water was taken off his arms, more would flow from the nearest line to his leg, then swirl up his body to join what was around his arms. It was as if it were alive.

Jill had only one last slot to put the water sword. Patrick and Joseph both protected her as they made their way along the ship. She only half listened to their banter, it was as though they were good friends for years, but whenever they spoke of her, she heard the love in both their voices. She had never known Joseph had loved her, but she knew he did. He had truly wanted to be her wife, not out of duty, but out of love. It made her heart sink in her chest knowing that she would break Joseph's heart.

They made it to the last slot, the one in front of the semi-circle of smooth metal behind the main mast. This one was different. As she slid the sword into position, it jolted her. She felt fire and coolness flow through her body. It was painful and soothing at the same time.

There was a deep rumbling in the ship. The semicircle broke into two sections and the floor split, sliding under the rest of the deck. It revealed a deep semicircular pool of the blue glowing liquid. It was a deep pool, beautiful in it's simplistic design. None of them knew what it was for.

It opened up more slots for the sword, however. She could see them, they were lit along the ship. Both brothers, both who loved her equally, told her to leave them to protect the blue pool while she put the sword into the new slots. She knew she would never see one of them alive again. The air people saw the pool and were focusing their attacks on it. She saw James running to aid his brother as she ran the other way to complete the cycle of the ship. She saw water people, leaping from the waves onto the ship to fight. She saw the clouds break and saw a giant fortress bigger than the ship itself riding on the storm clouds. She saw land, one of the few islands in the vast sea, near them through a crack of lightning.

She ran, sliding on the slick surface of the ship, and slammed the sword into the slots on the ship and prayed she would see her brothers, both fire and water, together alive at the end. She did not know. She could feel the water powers nestled in her breast next to her fire ones. The shock the blade gave her had put the powers there. She could not use them. Not yet. But she would. These were all her people now.

And then I woke up. Perhaps another night I'll dream the rest of this story...

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Binx loves Caturday!

Binxybear, enjoying his favorite day evar!!!

Well, besides gooshy food days, he loves those days too. And catnip days. And days where we pet him like crazy. Oh! He also loves days when he can tip stuff over and make some big mess. He also likes days when I sneak him some milk. Or new food bag days. He loves those days too!

Binxybear loves lots of days...

Friday, June 8, 2012

Dreamtime Dreamscape: Nightmare of bones

I had what some might call a nightmare last night. The below is not for the faint of heart, it's one of the few nightmares where writing it made me feel physically ill. I really do not recommend reading this unless you've got a stronger stomach than I do and your hands are not shaking like mine were when I typed this.

It started out normally enough. I wanted to go to a party. No, it wasn't me, it was a character. A female with long hair, slightly overweight, and really depressed. It was her wedding, I think. She wanted to wear a specific dress, but it wasn't in her closet. She had to wear something she didn't like, something with a lot of scrunches in the dress and the dress was either black, pink, or green. Sometimes it was a really glitsy dress, other times it looked like a trash bag.

Something attacked during the party. Whatever attacked dumped her in the middle of a river gorge with a bunch of children. She was the only adult. Well, sometimes she was the only adult, sometimes the kids were adults too.

She was trapped there for weeks, months. Her dress was ruined, she became terribly depressed and considered jumping into the swiftly flowing river.

Instead, she made a game. It was a terrible game.

She made a bunch of dummies that looked like people and acted like people. She set them all up in a row and gave them guns. These people were just torso, head, and arms. They moved like robots and each had a gun put in their hands and fingers on the trigger. Long strings connected the guns to the front of the game.

The game was to stand across from your dummy and pull the string. You had to stand there and let the dummies shoot at you. The girl only had six bullets. She told the kids, six of them, that they each had to stand in front of a dummy and it would shoot them. The seventh dummy, one of a large man in a black uniform, was hers.

To top it all off, they were all in survival mode, so while they pulled the string, they had to pull a razor over some wood, making a stick into a straight arrow. Again and again they had to pull the razor over the wood. The kids thought this was stupid, so she put the string on the razor and put the razor on a handle. Each time they pulled the handle across the wood, the gun would shoot.

The kids didn't know, but she put all the bullets in her own dummy's gun.

They started the game. I'm getting sick while I write this, knowing what comes next.

The others, they made their arrows and pulled blanks.

The girl. She knew what she was doing. She did it with finality and few tears. The bullets went off. She pulled the razor of the wood. Blood. And pain. Oh gads, so much pain and so much blood. My hands are shaking. My arms hurt and I'm not sure if I can push through this part.

The bullets impact her, but the pain of the bullets lodging themselves inside her are not as terrible as the pull of the lathe over the wood. It's not wood she's carving up. It's bone. I realize this slowly in the dream. The wood, I think, that doesn't look like wood. It's translucent and covered with red stains. It splinters under the razor and I check my own arms to make sure they're whole. It helps that in the dream she's pulling on only one bone, and in real life I have two bones there. It can't be real, it can't be real. It's just my dreams playing games. I think it's her arms in the dream only because my own arms are sore. I projected the soreness in my arms into the dream, that's all.

Six bullets and six pulls on her arm bone. The people around her, are they children again? They scream. She screams.

Then she's back at the party. Wearing a sleeveless dress. Her bone is still half shaved and her skin has healed and is pulled back from the.... ugh. I'm getting sick feeling again. ... the bone is just out there, still slightly bloody, still shaved. The people at the party whisper about it. An ambulance is called. The forgotten bullets are still inside her...

I know I'm about to wake up, but I want to wake up faster. Please, please wake up!

Somehow I must have been making noises or moving around because my husband turns and drapes an arm across me, jolting me awake. It's only a dream, it was only a dream...

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Dreamtime Dreamscape: Stomach Ulcer

I've had upset stomach dreams before. The kind where you go to bed either hungry or full of indigestion and somehow your dreams are full of angst and searching for food. Last night's dream took indigestion to a whole other level...

I don't remember much. But what I do remember was quite, uh, fun.

I'm going to the local hospital for an outpatient procedure to get my stomach checked out because it really hurts. The doctor tells me I have an ulcer again and I need to get surgery so they can fix it. He just whips out this surgical table (in the manner of dreams) and I lie on it, all ready.

I tell the doctor he's got about 15 minutes, then I have to leave because I have to go somewhere with my hubby. He gets 15 minutes into the procedure and I just get up and leave. He tells me I have to come back, there's something really wrong, but I just brush him off and go do other things. I don't remember the other things, something about a swamp, running around... I think it was based on Infamous 2, the video game I've been playing but I'm not sure.

A few days later I'm back at the hospital for the real surgery. I'm on a bed in the middle of a bunch of other beds, laid out in an orderly fashion as I would imagine an infirmary would be set up. The doctor has a scope down my throat and I'm nearly passed out. My stomach hurts really badly. I keep wanting to puke up acid, but I can't with the camera down my throat.

Hubby comes in and says we have to go now. This is some kind of emergency I was waiting for. The doctor starts telling me he found something, but I want to just get out of there. I want to throw up the camera and just leave with hubby. I'm antsy. The doctors start doing an image of my stomach with some sort of portable CT scan.

The scan is only half complete when I just get up and leave. The doctors are yelling at me to get back on the exam table, or at least come back later for the results. I leave.

Hours later I come back. Now the infirmary room is set up with the beds as tables and all the patients are in wheelchairs, rolling between beds. They're all old, it's like a nursing home.

I find my doctor by the exam table. He says I have to stay, they found something life changing. My stomach is really on fire now, and I have been going to the bathroom a lot and my food has been coming out half digested, I know something serious is wrong with me but I don't want to face it.

The doctor finally forces me into a chair and tells me I have an ulcer that ate through my innards until it made a tunnel to this strange intestine I have right behind my actual stomach. He says half my food is going to my stomach and half is going to this new intestine. I see in my mind a picture of it. An empty stomach and this bloated intestine right behind it, and a tunnel between them where food goes, having to chose which area to go to.

The doctor is showing me diagrams and talking all this over with me. Meanwhile all the elderly folk in their wheelchairs are making a circle around us. They're very interested and start asking questions as if it's a game show.

Hubby comes in, he's worried, but he says we have to go. I'm getting restless and I don't want to hear more, especially when the doctor says there's nothing they can do, I'm just going to have to live with two stomachs. The acid is cured with a pill, but he says I'll have to watch what I eat, I only absorb half the food I did before, or maybe it was twice the food. Either way, my diet will have to change.

My stomach burns and all I can imagine is if I puke, which stomach will the food come out of? The real one or the intestine?

And then I wake up. Hungry, of course.

Monday, June 4, 2012

My Momma by John Hawley

Hubby says: It's not often I get something done, let alone make a sequel, but, here it is.

My Momma

It had seemed like ages since Daddy and I were reunited again, here in the kingdom of God. The truth, is that it hadn't been long at all. Daddy and I have met up with some of our closest friends and family. We are both happy here, free to play all day, and share in the warmth of our friends and God's love. Daddy seems especially happy here, he and one of his closest friends spend what seems like forever catching up. The only time Daddy doesn't seem happy, is when he looks in on Momma.

I too have noticed Momma, she is so sad. After Daddy and I came to God's home, Momma has been lonely. She misses me...but I know she misses Daddy most, he was everything to Momma. As I look in on Momma at this moment, I can no longer take it, she is close to something terrible, I must help my Momma. I glance toward my Daddy, and he nods in approval, his loving approval and the blessing of God are all I need!

It's dark, my eyes haven't opened yet, and my lungs burn with that first breath of air. My limbs are weak, my muscles still forming, I need to learn to live all over again. For now I must nurse and and rest, I'll need my strength, my quest's success is uncertain, but I MUST attempt it. Weeks go by, I am regaining my familiar functions again, but my tummy hurts...I am so hungry and there is nobody to feed me.

It's been a long time since I have eaten, and the water that I find is polluted and hardly drinkable. I have been abandoned, but I know that if I keep on my path, I'll find Momma. I just don't know if I can hold on, I feel so close to death...have I failed Daddy, Myself and Momma? It's sudden, but I feel a warm and loving must be Daddy and God, they're telling me to keep going.

This is it. This is my home...Momma...I'm here. I wait for such a long time, I do not know how long, it's getting cold, but I MUST stay strong...for Daddy...for God...for my Momma. The world is getting dimmer, I know I won't make it, Momma...I just wanted to see you make you happy...I've sacrificed so much just to see you again. The door opens, finally, and Momma steps out, she seems to be leaving. She doesn't see me, walks right passed me, I manage to get a weak and pathetic 'mew' out. She heard it! Momma turns to me and she exclaims "poor little kitten!" At last our eyes meet, I cannot speak to her, but I can tell she knows it's me. Daddy knows I'll see him again one day, right Momma needs me.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Dreamtime Dreamscape: Wings and Mail

Last night was another Dreamtime Dreamscape.

I don't remember the beginning of the dream. The first part I remember is somehow I was a long lost child of this family and I was found because only children of this family had wings.

Now, I don't dream all the time of having a pair of beautiful feather wings attached to my back, but I have had them frequently enough that it confirms that flying is a big deal in my dreams. I suppose you could say I've always dreamed of flying. It would be the truth. I've had dreams of having wings and levitating so often that they are a special class of terrible and wonderful dreams. Terrible because they always end up being dreams of me being hunted, and wonderful because I always get away by flying.

I don't remember the part of the dream where I was being hunted.

I was a scared child with wings, that I had curled in tight around my body to hide them. By being found I was given permission to wear my wings out and proudly. I wasn't used to this, nor was I ready to show them to the world.

The family that took me in lived in a huge house with rooms similar to the home I grew up in. I was given a basement room, a room that was tight and comforting in it's closeness. It reminded me of the bunk I had when I worked on a ship, everything had it's place.

They showed me some things. This part of the dream is foggy, I don't remember any specifics, there was some older woman leading me around the home and I was told that though I was part of the family I was expected to do chores.

As she was talking to me, the entire house moved, shifting suddenly. She told me that the house was a train, somehow I missed this. The house was made of long train trollies, strung together in a long line. It was to keep people from noticing the wings, I was told. If the home kept moving, no one saw it long enough to realize everyone inside could fly.

My first chore was to collect the mail.

It was on an empty train car where at the station they'd just piled the boxes of mail onto the car and left it. I had to pick up the boxes and fly them back to the house before they were blown away as the train picked up speed.

I left the outside confines of the house and was confronted by two bodyguards, both with wings, who had no idea who I was, but recognized the family wings, so they assumed I was just a new stray picked up and adopted and once I told them of my task, they pointed out the correct train car. It was two or three train cars away, I would have to jump between the cars to get there.

I made it with some effort to the car with the mail on it. Everything was addressed to a Katheryn Erbee. I knew that was my name. I was really alarmed that the majority of the boxes were addressed to me. I checked the sack of letter mail and found a dozen letters from my grandparents in there. I knew the handwriting of my grandparents because outside of my dream I knew their handwriting. Inside my dream I could read the envelopes to know. Somehow I knew the extended family had learned about me and was wishing me well. I was touched by this and tried to stuff the letters into my pockets, only to find out I wore a kind of oversized sash with only one small pocket.

I put the letters carefully on the floor of the car and picked up the first box and half flew, half jumped from car to car until I got to the main entrance of the house car. The guards asked me who the box was for and I said Katheryn. They looked at me confused, not knowing that was my name. I stacked the box where they told me and went back for the next.

On the way back I could see the pile of letters moving in the wind. I increased my speed and tried hard to get there before the letters blew away. Once back on the mail car, I put the letters under a box and lifted the next back to the house car.

This happened several times, each time the letters slipped out from under the box and nearly flew away.

I started to notice things on the boxes, hints to what was inside. Each was addressed to me, and some had words on them. I can't remember the words, but it was like watermarks, one of them said something like "inside are illegal bootleg dvds" or something.

Finally I had only one box left and had to leave the letters uncovered on the mail car. That last box, somehow I knew it had a mask in it, the mask being labeled as illegal, but I knew it would help me fit into the new family. I was careful with it, so it took longer than before to drop the box off and get back to the mail car for my letters.

As I was halfway there, one of the letters lifted off the pile and flew up into the wind. Horrified, I tried to fly after it, but it fell between the mail cars.

Somehow I missed that the train had stopped. I had no idea how long I had, so I quickly flew under the cars. The train cars were enormous, far larger than normal rail cars. I found the letter and was in a rush to clamber up, knowing the train wouldn't stay put for long.

I woke up as I grabbed the letter and the train started to move again.

It was a strange dream, but the ones where I have wings are usually strange.

Vivi's for Caturday!

Our basement cat LOVES Caturday. Awwww, so much she grew devil horns!

(We don't actually keep Vivi in our basement, it's just an online term for a black cat. Vivi is really crabby most of the time, so calling her an evil basement cat makes sense, because sometimes she acts like an adorable kid dressed in a demon costume. She tries to be ebil, but she's just got too much of a soft heart to be that bad.)