"And then...I turned into a raisin..." (on dreams)

Shoesonwrong, from Twitter.

So I had bad dreams last night. That I was working for a previous boss at my current job and for whatever reason we were hanging out at Marian's apartment instead of the library and there was some Halloween party that I had to orchestrate but I hadn't because I'd been sick and I couldn't stop crying. (In the dream.) I don't think I've ever had a dream where I couldn't stop crying. So I woke up, went to the loo, came back, looked for Max Lucado, couldn't find him, found my Bible, bulging with notebooks I've stuck in as markers. I sighed, looked at my phone, and hit #2 on my speed dial, "MomDad."

They used to be in my phone as "Home," but then I thought, this is my home, this 3rd floor walk up. But I still think of where my parents are as "Home." So Mom answered and I found out that the wedding after the week at the Lake? I'm invited. First I heard. So now I have to decide, in the next three days, before my folks go to visit my brother, Friday. I think I'd like to go because I think it would be a fun wedding. I can't remember the last time I was at a wedding with my sister and she's a fun person to be with. We'll see.

But then my mom had to get off the phone and neither of us were hanging up, it was so silly, and she finally said, "I had a friend and this is what my friend did" and hung up. I'm laughing as I write this.

*******

I listened in on the TCK phone call yesterday--the woman who was the main "guest" made a movie about Army Brats, but so much of the TCK experience translates, whether you were a MK (Missionary Kid) or a Foreign Service Kid (apparently no abbreviation or nickname for that) or a Brat (Army). Interesting, we often have mild cases of Post Traumatic Disorder and often act like the adult children of alcoholics. So I have a lot of books to go and find now, specifically one by Stephanie Pressman, The Narcissistic Family (which, she said, don't let the title turn you off, but any family where the children's welfare isn't priority #1, like when your job moves you around, has these sort of issues.)

But I'm still smiling from playing "who's going to hang up first" with my mom.

Go hug someone. Even if it's a stuffed animal or a pillow--there are too many people dropping these days. Curmudgeon that he was, I'm sure someone loved Jesse Helms and is sad that "Uncle Jesse" is gone.

(I almost deleted that last paragraph, it sounds stilted, and I don't necessarily want the Senator to be a Google hit for this blog, but it's true, so I'm going to hit Publish anyways.)

xo,

SL

I had a friend and this is what my friend did...