February 14th, 2003

I’m lying in bed. I’m no sicker than I was yesterday, but I’m no better either. I feel all stuffed up and disconnected, the kind of stuffed up and disconnected that makes you have weird dreams. When I was in high school (a long, long time ago) I used to keep a very faithful dream journal. It was interesting, and my dreams rewarded me by becoming more vivid and easier to remember the more I wrote about them. On and off, I have thought about this and missed it. Someone I know from Shasradio was putting her dreams into her LiveJournal and when I told her that I found those entries the most interesting, she started a separate dream livejournal, which you can read here. I check it fairly regularly, I’m going to try and do the same, I think. If I succeed, I might branch the dream journal away from the blog, but atm, since I’m so tentative, I’m just going to jot my dreams down here when I remember them.

I remember two things from last night. One is a strange thing that happens to me regularly, although I can’t remember having had it happen to me in several years now. I wake to the sound of someone calling my name, usually insistently. I think I can hear their voice even as I am waking. Last night, the voice was my mother’s. When I woke, I waited, to see if the call would come again, but of course, it didn’t. Strangely enough, last night was the first night in months that my parents have spent away from the house. When I was a child, this phenomenon would happen to me in waking too, I would hear voices, calling my name. I would often look for my mother and ask her, “Did you just call me?” She’d assure me that she had not. After a while, she developed an answer to my common question: “Well, if you hear it again, say ‘Speak, Lord, thy servant listens.’” This is a reference to Samuel, for those of you not biblically inclined. He is alone in the temple and God keeps calling out to him. Who is calling me? What is it they want?

Both cats are in the bed with me. The dog just sighed deeply. He’s curled up near the window. It’s good to have company when you are sick.

In the other dream, we were renting a house (which we weren’t living in for some reason, or had just moved out of) from the Cain’s. The Cain’s are the people whom we bought our new house from. Something was wrong though, and repairs were needed. I walked down this long, narrow hallways (like the hallway in the apartment we lived in in Argentina) to the back room and showed my mom the plaster on the wall that was peeling. As I touched it, the whole wall fell away to reveal the brick beneath. Now we can see that the damage is not just superficial but structural, for there in the brick wall are missing and torn out bricks.

That’s all I remember. I took a bath earlier, and it felt great and my nostrils opened up and I could breathe. Now, though, I’m all stopped up again, which is bothersome. I was planning to nap here with the kitties after I wrote down my dreams, but now I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep with all this congestion. Ugh.

Oh! Well, either my cache on Galeon is playing mad tricks on me, or Neil Gaiman went back in time to post on his journal. He’s been posting all week! I swear I hard refreshed the thing! Lots to catch up on. Yay. Oh. OK. His website was acting up. I am not insane, the posts weren’t there when I tried to read them. That’s reassuring.

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