Wasps give me the heebie jeebies

I am not clear on the differences between wasps and yellow jackets. Bees are just fine – I love bees. But wasps, not so much. Don’t get all preachy about their place in the food chain, blah blah blah; I know all that, but that doesn’t make me like wasps. They have an evil look about them that I don’t appreciate, they can sting over and over and will do so for no particular reason, and they bite. It’s not that I go out of my way to eradicate them, I just don’t want them around me.

Chris found a nest of the little buggers beside our driveway on Friday and we got some spray to deal with them (that’s way too close to the house for comfort). Though I haven’t had any traumatic run-ins with them (knock wood), I’m pretty sure their mere evil presence caused the dream I had last night.

As with most dreams, I don’t remember how it started. The point from which I do remember goes like this:

We are outside, and there are wasps flying around. Somehow, Chris has managed to trap most of them – and there are hundreds – in a large glass dome. Thing is, the dome is made of a bunch of top-hinged windows like a greenhouse that open with cranks and for some reason, all the windows are open. There are no plants inside, only wasps.  Olivia is on her knees cranking a window shut just as fast as she can while the wasps buzz around inside the dome like houseflies doing the four-point turn thing in the air, staying mostly inside with an occasional wasp escaping out the windows. The dome is large, four or five feet tall.

I yell at her to crank the windows shut faster! but she’s doing all she can. I run over and start shoving the windows closed, making the cranks whiz around like propellers. I’m running around the dome, shoving windows shut, and I look down to see our kitten (but not our current kitten, it had different coloring but in the dream it was our kitten) crawling along the ground, dragging one leg and trembling all over. It turned to look at me and it’s whole face was swollen up all grotesque like and I grabbed the kitten and hollered that it must have been stung! maybe in the mouth! maybe in the eye! The kitten was going to lose her eye! As this was going on I became aware of a pain on my forehead and realized a wasp had taken a big bite out of my hairline and there was a trail of blood dripping down my face. And still, Olivia was cranking windows shut one by one.

I woke up as my dream self was trying to decide whether to pry open the kitten’s mouth to look for a wasp or to just whisk her to the vet, all while contemplating the amazing fortuitousness that the wasp had “only” bitten me instead of stinging me, since I am so allergic. I remember thinking (in my dream) how odd it was that nobody had been stung, except the kitten.But I was convinced that if I opened the kitten’s mouth myself I would see a wasp in there and it would sting me as I tried to take it out.

Weird, eh?

Jinx

I totally jinxed myself with yesterday’s post… I woke up this morning with dream vapors; just enough to remember that I had been dreaming but tantalizing out of my grasp so that I have no recollection of what the dream was about. *sigh*

Dinosaurs and whack-a-mole

The past three nights I’ve had odd dreams.  Not  nightmares, no recurring theme that I can identify, just on the strange side. It’s not the having of dreams that compels me to blog, and the content itself isn’t exactly earth-shattering – what got me interested is that I remember the dreams, and for three nights in a row. Ok, here’s what I remember:

Monday night: I was outside in the yard, the sun was shining down and I was puttering about by myself. A smallish (but still plenty big) Tyrannosaurus meanders down the street, sees me, and sets about attempting to eat yours truly. I fend him (her?) off with various garden tools and pieces of lumber, running around the house and trying to find a place to hide. Upon waking I had the impression that the dinosaur wasn’t really trying that hard, and in the dream I was more annoyed that nobody came to my resuce than scared of the actual dinosaur.

Tuesday night: I was in a shop, an old-fashioned parlor kind of shop with tables and armoires and hutches and chairs scattered around. There were several women in the shop and all were displaying pieces of handwork to be judged. All of the items were made with thread (not yarn, I remember this clearly). One of my coworkers was there and had made a beautifully needle-sculpted picture all in white. She was nervous about her piece but I assured her it was gorgeous. I didn’t have anything entered in the contest, I was wandering about admiring all the pieces. I don’t remember much else about this dream other than it was quiet and peaceful and homey (sorry Caitlin, I don’t know if you won or not).

Wednedsay night: I was at a family entertainment place, the kind of place with video games and Whack-a-Mole and those big tubes kids can crawl in. It was loud, with bells clanging and kids screaming; the restaurant part was darkly lit and sparsely populated. I walked directly to a booth/table combo (the kind with a booth seat on one side and chairs on the other) and sat in the booth so that I faced out into the game area. The big tube thing was directly in front of me. In the chair opposite me was one of  my husband’s childhood friends, Greg. (I feel it’s important to interject here that I haven’t seen Greg in years.) As soon as I sat down, Greg greeted me and hailed a passing waitress. He asked if I was ready to play, and I quickly said, “YES!” He then smacked down two big plastic butcher knives and the waitress plunked down several large, colored, egg-shaped things that had slight cuts in the edges. The game was to slice through them quicker than your opponent, so I started hacking away. After I’d cut a lime green orb into slices I looked up and behind Greg was a guy I haven’t seen since high school – he was sitting under some of the big play tubes just staring at me.  Then I woke up.

Told you, strange dreams!

On growing up

As my birthday draws near, I can’t help but reflect on my life a bit. I’m not quite 40 and I hope to live a good long while yet, but there has been a lot of change in my life over the past few years and I feel a touch of maturity setting in (whether by choice or force I don’t yet know). I find myself evaluating my choices, thinking about the future, and appreciating what life has handed out to me even though some of it has been extremely difficult.

I’ve lost several family members, a couple of friends, and pets. I’ve also gained family members, both in recent births and in the sense that I’ve gotten to know and love relatives that had previously been on the periphery of my world. I have a good circle of friends. I’m married to a fabulous man, and our children are growing into wonderful young people. Our little old house keeps us busy, frustrated, and entertained by turns. A multitude of hobbies fill any spare moments. My career is fulfilling. I have such a long list of goals, dreams, desires, and plans that I shall never grow bored.

All in all, I find a deep sense of peace in the current state of my life – though it is hectic, it is my life and I can either embrace it and be happy, or let myself fill up with worry and regret. Perhaps it’s the recent losses that make me appreciate what I have. Perhaps it’s the clock ticking me closer to middle age. Perhaps it’s the changing season. Whatever the reason, I choose to make the best of what’s been draped around my shoulders.

And that, perhaps, is the feeling of maturity.

All you need is love

Nineteen years ago today I married my soul mate. I don’t know how he’s put up with me all these years, but I’m glad he has. We were both so young, it’s impossible to describe what it’s like to know someone as long as we have – we were just kids when we started dating.  It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s always been worth it.  Happy Anniversary, honey. I love you!

Driving along in an automobile

I only remember small fragments of the dream I had last night. I remember riding in a vehicle, in the dark. Lesley was driving and we were following a truck / SUV along a winding residential road. At first we were passing by nice houses; the ones on the right all had video projections playing on the fronts.

Then the houses began to peter out. The truck ahead of us swerved to the right-hand shoulder to pick up a grandmotherly figure that was dancing on the the side of the street, and as we passed by the truck I saw that it was entirely covered in brown and tan pompoms, so that it looked like a teddy bear. I started yelling at Lesley, telling her to slow down so I could see the teddy bear better, but she said we were in a hurry. We zoomed past and continued on down the winding road, which was now pitch black – all the houses and street lights were gone.

And that’s all I remember. Weird, eh?

Ron Howard

I woke up this morning with the vestiges of an interesting dream. I was walking, along with my teammates, to a volleyball game. I had the ball and a bag of drink bottles; we were walking a very long ways. The path wove through industrial areas, a bunch of freeway overpasses, and finally along a waterfront area. Ron Howard was driving a small Miata-like car (cream colored) and pulled up behind us to ask how to get to the volleyball game.

At that point we were very close to where we needed to get onto a small ferry (the raft kind) to get us across a river. There was no direct way to drive, we were walking through alleys and down staircases, so I pointed out where the road was. The first time I addressed him, I inadvertently called him Mr. Cunningham. He politely ignored this and offered to take the bag of beverages because they appeared heavy.

The rest of my team continued towards the ferry, and I was afraid ol’ Ron was going to make me late, so I gave him the drinks and once again pointed out the way he had to drive in order to get there. This time I called him Mr. Howard. He waved and drove off and I continued walking.

Weird, eh?

Why Ron Howard? I haven’t seen him in any movies lately. I haven’t been thinking about him. Dreaming about volleyball I understand, because we play on Sundays and I’m the pseudo-coach. But Ron Howard??

The Subliminal Mind

… is a crazy thing.

We have a cat problem. Well, to be more precise: we have a neighbor problem. The neighbor has too many cats and dogs, and the cats roam the neighborhood. Unfortunately, they really like my yard and driveway, and they are ALWAYS on my property. It’s really obnoxious; I have almost run over them many times, as I enter my own driveway.

We have been landscaping in the front yard, and of course these cats have decided to use my yard as a giant litterbox. GROSS! Tired of scooping catpoop out of my flower beds, I researched ways to deter cats — and found a motion-activated sprinkler!!!  PERFECT! I ordered a couple and am impatiently awaiting their arrival.

Last night I had a brief dream, where I opened my front door and saw one of their cats streaking across the yard, a sprinkler in hot pursuit. ROFLMAO!

High School (again??)

I don’t usually remember my dreams, but on occasion they stick with me long enough to jot down a few notes. The one I just awoke from was rather odd, but the details are slipping away quickly so here goes:

 I was in high school, a new one. Having just transferred there, a friend (who is a coworker in real life, and too young to have been at high school with me) that I will call SB said she would show me around. We proceeded from class to class, but SB had my schedule and wouldn’t give it to me. She was very nice about it, but wouldn’t give it over. The school was huge, with thousands and thousands of kids in it. The classes were spread over a campus that seemed to be miles across. At one point we went to a class that was so far we took a tram-type thing back to the main campus. This tram was small and the kids were all piled in, telephone-booth style. But the tram was open, it didn’t have a top.

When we got back to the main campus, there was an assembly going on, so we hurried to find seats. The student body didn’t fit in the stadium, and there were thousands of chairs set up in the field outside. Speakers broadcast the sounds. Most of the students were asleep, some were sunning themselves on lawn chairs. SB said there was a performance going on and that she hoped nobody noticed we were late. Late? I didn’t care about a performance, but SB gave me a look that said, “you’d better care about this one.” We found seats and listened for a little while. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, figured the speakers were shot.

SB got up to use the restroom, and as she walked back I saw out of the corner of my eye a ball, one of those rubber playground balls, bouncing across the audience. Nobody was touching it, but it came from the stage area and just sort of bounced across people. SB saw it coming and got real pale, started whispering, “no, no, no, no…” She was still walking towards her seat but could clearly see the ball headed in her direction. The ball bounced over me and settled on the floor right in front of her empty seat. She stared at it and wouldn’t answer my inquiries. There was a commotion to the left and we all turned to see what it was; the drama performers were making their way towards us. Only, these were not human. The creatures were elongated, walking on all fours but with long necks and tiny heads. Around their feet scrambled dozens of small creatures, like spiders or kittens.

The entourage stopped at our aisle and SB walked towards them as if summoned. The small creatures scrambled up the legs of the larger ones and melded into their heads, making them larger and more freaky (if this were possible). All of the students were wide awake and attentive, seemingly glad that the attention was not on them this time.

One of the creatures started to speak, with a deep rumbling voice, and asked SB if Tres West had, to the best of her knowledge, been tinkering with the corn crops. Tinkering on a bioengineering level, that is. SB solemnly answered no, and the creatures grilled her for a few more minutes. They finally seemed satisfied and ambled off, leaving SB standing there sweating bullets. One look at her and I realized she had lied. Why? Bioengineering of corn? What did this have to do with high school??