Extrapolation (this word just came to me as a title, I'm not quite sure why)

I have been on a real trip with my dreams lately. I don't remember all the details, just flashes, but they range from light-filled & beautiful to scary & haunted (and many places in-between). Last night I dreamt I was living in a post-apocalyptic society, and I took refuge in this collapsing brick & stone building where the stairs were near-disintegrated. People were living in these little pockets off the hallways, turning them into makeshift apartments (and they were oddly, poetically beautiful the way they were decorated with knick-knacks and garage sale-y, mismatched items), and there was even a restaurant on the second floor of this building. The restaurant was done in mosaics, colorful pieces of tiles creating artwork on the walls and floors and tables. I remember having conversations with the restaurant owner, and with some of the residents of this building, and they were about God, and about the fallout from the War, and about the next spiritual step for humankind. Heavy stuff, yes. Somewhat optimistic too, if you can believe that. And the night before I dreamt about missing someone--a woman, I think, although now that I push back to that place I think I was a woman in the dream, and missing someone else altogether--and I clutched onto this mailbox, sinking down to the ground, and I let out this gutteral scream that got louder and louder like a siren until my voice cracked and then there was an echoing silence. Hmm. And late last week I dreamt (inspired by my ponderings on the Bogeyman, I'm sure) about being inside this schoolhouse/office building/hotel-like place, and there were children running around (I don't recall if they were physically alive or "just" spirits at this point) and one little girl in a dress jumped over a banister and landed upright on her feet several stories below. But then this she-creature with long scraggly hair--and wearing an ugly mask--reached out and yanked this girl toward it/her and....I don't know. Ate her, murdered her, kidnapped her and held her captive. The thing's arms were bony, and it had pointed, long fingers. Are these dreams crazy or what? Quite the opposite of the previous week; it's too bad I don't remember any specifics from those dreams now because they've faded into my subconscious. I know I was comforted, and there was lots of light, and yummy food, and terrific conversations with people who all wished me and everyone else well. However contrary the kinds of dreams seem from one another, I also woke with a feeling of catharsis from each one (in different ways, though), like I'd gotten things out of my system that complemented each other in yin-and-yang ways. Hmm again.

The last few weeks have been all about "process" (and processing). I made a conscious choice not to write a diary/journal-style entry for a bit, just to let Life sink in. I did get a kick out of writing my Veronica Mars entry, and it meant a lot for me to post that poem in my previous post (I'd been fine-tuning that one for a while -- I'm still not 100% sure it's finished). There have been so many feelings and emotions sifting through me as of late -- both good and scary....I absolutely loved having Charlie come visit (I almost wanted to call this entry "Charlie," that's how much he means to me). He is such a swell guy, and such a guardian angel of mine. He truly captures the meaning of "Friend" with his warmth, insights, good-naturedness, and commitment. He inspires me....Mom and I had a great weekend with wine drinking, movie watching, furniture moving, dog loving, cat loving, nap taking, food eating, and hug giving. Those are the best kinds of weekends....Last Thursday Kathryn and I got together for beverages, appetizers, and chatting. She is one of my role models, and I love that she carries sassiness and sensitivity within her in the same breath. She is strong, but willing to be vulnerable; funny, but willing to form it from past sadness; loving, but willing to be angry and frustrated at injustice. She is a hard worker and SUCH a caretaker & caregiver. She just cares, period. Thank god for people like Kathryn....It sure has been weird to be missing Ben while he's been in St. Louis. He and I are such a part of each other's routine now that I feel his absence greatly. I am really proud of him, I must say, for finishing up with his college courses. He'll be able to walk away at the end of this week with his college degree. I'm also glad this trip has allowed him to spend some needed time with his mother and brother, and to take in St. Louis -- both the good and the bad parts. He said he's excited to come home, and I look forward to that first huge hug (with many to follow). I've enjoyed going over to his place to take care of Missy, his cat. Missy, as Ben says, is bipolar, which was evidenced yesterday while she sat on my lap. She let me pet her for a good 45 min., but then--in a heartbeat--she jumped up onto all fours and hissed at me with bared teeth like I'd done something wrong! She jumped to the ground, turned to me, and hissed some more! Oh well. Within a half-hour, while I lay in bed reading, she rejoined me (on the upswing, I guess) and cuddled near the black sheep blanket.

Speaking of reading, I've decided to take a break from fiction (although to me there's really no difference) and dive into non-fiction. I am reading Vincent Bugliosi & Curt Gentry's Helter Skelter, about the Charles Manson murders, and it time and again gives me chills. I've become a touch more paranoid while walking to me car, or unlocking the front door. The things people do to one another, and in the name of Jesus/God/religion/etc. It's so sad and fucked-up and terrifying (and look, it's going on now with the state of our country with its politics and economics -- I shudder at Creationism creeping its way into public schools, church and state melting more and more into a mixed blur, the greater chasm between the rich and poor and the slow disappearance of the middle class, President Bush claiming "God speaks to me" and tells him to do what he's doing. Yeah, Mr. President. I'm sure that's it.

Lately I've been haunted by this feeling of not knowing what comes next in my life. When will I finish the book I'm writing? What will be the next phase of my career life? What will keep the members of my family inspired? I know it's about taking deep breaths, and rolling with the punches, going with the flow, all that stuff. Easier said than done, though. I'm at this point in my life where, while I feel focused (maybe more than ever) I also feel that my non-psychic abilities only enable me to see so far. Not different than anybody else, I know, but still. If someone were to seriously ask me if I wanted to know the future, I would reply "No" without a moment's hesitation. So I suppose that says something right there. That, as always, Life is learning to live with Mystery. We can apply our own little baby steps and answers, but in the end it's about acceptance. Life is one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books. Each alternate ending holds purpose, wisdom, lessons. I'm curious what lessons are coming next, and in what shape, and this excites and frightens me. But fuck, what's new.