Another marathon sleep last night. It was much more refreshing than the last one, although the dreams were still raging in my mind. One was so odd, I just have to share it.
I dreamed I was working at a hospital in town, brand new. I had no idea how to get there so I asked one of my coworkers to meet up with me and show me the way. We took a city bus to a particular stop and then waited for the #18 bus that would take us right to the hospital. I mapped it out in my head and the next shift, the following day, I was ready to try it out on my own. I was going to meet my coworker at the stop for #18 but, on my way to the first bus stop, he called my phone and told me he had slept in and missed breakfast. He said he’d be right behind me but to go on without him.
I hopped aboard the first bus, got my transfer and recognized the stop I needed to get off at. I stood next to the #18 sign and waited…and waited and waited. The damn bus was late. I tried to text my new boss to let her know and other people started to gather at the stop, stomping feet and muttering about the lateness of the bus. People started to walk to the next stop so I decided to follow, not knowing what else to do. We walked a while, in a group, and then they all veered off to the right into a complex with a security gate up front. I lined up behind them and watched as each person flashed an ID badge at the guard as they went by. I pulled out my word ID and showed him that…he didn’t bat an eye and let me through with the rest of them.
We all walked into an industrial style warehouse that was impeccably clean and free of dust. I noticed that the concrete floors were buffed to a shine. There was a booth set up that had two friendly women at the window who handed out uniforms and smiles and everyone seemed in a great mood. I quite liked it there and quickly forgot about the other job I was supposed to be going to, getting into the fun atmosphere of the place I now found myself. I got myself a uniform which turned out to be a jumpsuit that was worn over your clothes. I pulled it on, removed my shoes as directed and walked out into the middle of the warehouse where people seemed to be gathering. There were mental machines spaced about 3 feet apart, in rows from the middle to the back of the area. Each one had a worker manning it so I walked up to one who didn’t have anyone in his line.
“Uh, hi there,” I said. “This is my first day and I’m not sure what to do…can you help me?”
He smiled at me. “This is my first day too so don’t worry about it. We’ll learn together.”
He gestured for me to get into the machine. I walked around to the side of it and tried to figure it out. It was a strong frame made of metal that was welded together at each joint and then capped with some kind of clear plastic. It had metal bars that extended from end to end over and under a cradle that looked like it would support me lying down, facing the worker who stood behind a round structure also made of metal. It wasn’t immediately obvious how I was supposed to get into the thing.
“Just step inside the frame and lay down on your belly right here,” he pointed to the cradle. “It will hold your weight and then, when you’re comfortable, you can stretch your legs back and put your feet into these braces. You’ll be able to feel it once you find your centre of gravity in the machine.”
Awkwardly, I fumbled about, trying to find a place for my arms and legs while lying face-down on the contraption. One I got here, the worker helped guide my feet into the braces which closed around my ankles with gentle pressure.
“Okay, now you just need to relax and I’ll start the process for you.” He said, not sounding quite as confident as I would have liked.
The machine suddenly came to life and began to lift me, feet first, until I was on an angle that made me feel like I was about to fall forward and out of the cradle. I pulled my body back but the motion aborted the movement of the machine.
“No no no, don’t pull yourself back or it won’t work. You have to be relaxed and trust that you won’t fall out. Okay?”
“Uhh okay..” I said, not sure of what it was I was agreeing to.
I did as he said the next time the machine began to pick my feet up and when I got the point where I felt like I might slip out, leathery straps I hadn’t seen before then appeared across my collarbone and shoulders, holding me in place. I lay there, suspended with my feet about two feet above my head, pointing directly into the circle of metal at the front end of the machine. I could tell that something wasn’t going quite as expected when my operator vanished for a moment and returned with a senior operator to help.
“Her arms are in the wrong place.” the senior said as he grabbed my arms and showed me how to hold them straight out front. “Pretend you’re about to dive into that circle you see in front of you.”
I understood and did as he asked.
“Okay, now we’re ready!” someone said and a button was pressed that made the entire machine start to vibrate. I looked at the circle in front of me and there seemed to be static fuzzing in the open space, not unlike an old television set tuned to a channel of nothing but white noise. My fingertips were inches away from it and I could feel it tickle my skin.
“Have a great day! We’ll see you when your shift is up!” the operator said and then I felt like I was being squeezed through a syringe and was shot out into an entirely different place.
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the floating feeling of silence fill me, and when I opened them I was shocked and amazed. I seemed to be in a different world. There was grass everywhere I looked, at my entry point, and rolling hills…flowers and trees. It was so quiet and peaceful but everything looked a little odd…something was slightly off-centre. I bend down to touch the grass and discovered what it was…everything here looked like pixels, built of tiny squares of different colours. The blades of grass were made of tiny pixels in a dozen shades of green and yellow, the trees were the same; they only looked normal from a distance. It was like being in a world made of tiny Lego.
I started to explore, amazed to find I could fly between landscapes with a flicker of thought, and explored mountains and forests and even little towns with people living in them. I went into a village and knocked on a few doors but no one would answer. I went inside one hut to find the occupants seated around the dinner table, frozen in a tableau. The people here weren’t real like I was…things started to feel like a video game.
I looked in a mirror I found in one of the tiny huts and was astounded to find I was camouflaged. I was me but made up of the colours in the space surrounding me so I blended perfectly into the back ground. I went outside and as I stepped onto the grass I watched my foot and leg change to green and blend immediately away. My role there became more clear. The workers, like me, were there to guide the customers through their experience….to alter things and make the time more enjoyable or entertaining for them. I hadn’t seen any customers yet but when I went back to the place I started, I could see a digital clock way up in the sky that was counting down the minutes until we opened for business.
“Well this is a pretty cool job….” I whispered to myself but my voice turned to the sound of song birds, the notes carried away on the soundless wind.
I woke up here, to my alarm. I rather hope this one continues in future dreams as the themes often do. It reminded me very much of when I worked for a theme park in real life in my teens. It was a summer job and it was so much fun. The money wasn’t great but the experience was rich. I got to work with dolphins and sea lions in aquarium shows and was a walk-about character for a year. Some great memories there, for sure. Part of this time was when I was homeless and I would sleep on the picnic tables backstage until the park closed and I had to leave, but it gave me a safe place to be most of the time and the food was cheap for employees. I really enjoyed that time of my life. Maybe this dream is just a strangely contrived throw-back to that.
In other news, the new landlord has offered to let us start moving our stuff into the garage this weekend which is a whole week early. So happy about that. I’ll be able to get piles of stuff out of the current place so we can finally clean the damn carpets and get the hell out of there. The countdown is on….. Soon, I will be enjoying the sun on my deck with a cup of tea (or wine) and won’t have to worry about packing, moving or invasive bitchy landlady’s ruining my day anymore. Sounds like a dream come true. :)
I feel like the glue that holds me together is starting to slip. I’m doing really well on the whole, considering the massive amount of stress at work and home right now. Well, home isn’t really all that stressful, just physically exhausting. I am horrified by how much crap we have accumulated in the last nine years…and when I say “we” I mean Dayne. The man is a pack-rat with a hoarding problem. Seriously…it’s ridiculous. He was emptying the attic on the weekend and we came upon boxes of invoices for utilities at places we haven’t lived in for over a decade. It was stuffed FULL of them. I went to throw them out and Dayne freaked and came stumbling across the kitchen, tripping on all the crap that is leaking out of everywhere as we sort and toss and pack.
“Nooooooo! Those have to be shredded and then burnt! They can’t go in the trash!” He chastised.
This, by the way, is exactly how we ended up dragging boxes of old bills around with us. *sigh* So, he didn’t want to have a fire that night so they were put in a bag with all the other old bills that must be shredded and then burned and there they sit. I’ll bet they end up coming with us when we move. lol… Ah well. It’s been fun getting rid of stuff anyway. We’ve made so many trips to the dump and the Salvation Army, they’re just waving us through now. There just seems to be more stuff in the places where we just emptied of stuff, as if it’s multiplying while we sleep. I can’t wait for this to be over with.
I worked really hard on the weekend and overdid it on Monday (was a stat here! Yay!) so when I went to lie down Monday night I was in so much pain I could barely breathe. My spine hurt from top to tail and my hands and feet were throbbing….my head was on a whole new level of throbbing and I was so dizzy. I didn’t think I did more than I should have but it was super muggy all day and I was sweating like crazy. I’m in that part of the month where I sweat non-stop anyway so this didn’t make it any more pleasant.
Went to bed Monday night and the pain was just crushing me. I was awake most of the night even though I was exhausted; kept waking because of the pain in one body part or another. Three or four times I woke to Dayne kneeling beside me, massaging some part of my body; legs, neck, shoulders, hands….he didn’t get any sleep himself but wouldn’t go downstairs to the couch because he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving me alone in the middle of all that. That made me kinda teary. His attention and love made me feel a lot better but, my mid-morning, I was a mess again only I was also losing consciousness on my feet. It was a throwback to the days when I was super exhausted and fell asleep everywhere. I could clearly feel the line between awake and asleep….had to fight hard to stay on the side of consciousness the entire time I was at work. If I stopped struggling, even for a moment, I would drift away only to snap awake moments later (I hope it was only moments – I have a glass walled office over here!) I felt so crappy I went for a walk, stopped when a wave of dizziness passed and closed my eyes, then fell asleep on my feet, in the hall, waking only when I felt my body start to tumble forward. I looked drunk, I’m sure, to the passers by. I called it then….packed up and went home for the day. I fell into my bed at 1:00 pm and woke only when Colt came in to hug me, and then again when Dayne came to bed. The next thing I remember was my alarm, which I snoozed for an extra fifteen minutes. I slept for 16.5 hours and woke up still tired. How the hell does that happen? OF course, I dreamed like mad the entire time. The pain eased a bit, which was great, and I’ve managed to get to work today without falling asleep so I suppose it was worth it. I’m going to have to seriously rest up so I can move in a couple weeks. Packing and moving in agony is too close to my recurrent dreams to stay absolutely mentally stable. I’m doing okay though. Hanging in there.
Work is a stressful ball of mess. I have made a couple of mistakes lately (not huge things, but big enough to beat myself up over). I missed a bill payment and charged something to the wrong cost centre. Not huge, like I said, but the bosses aren’t very forgiving and I hate to make mistakes like that. Too much going on in my world right now, I suppose.
I’ve been doing really well with the eating deal too. I’ve been tying to keep myself to 900 calories a day (a lot for me, unless I’m eating everything in the house all at once) to get my metabolism moving again but the 17 hour rest did me in. I woke not hungry at all and I’ve been not eating since….stupid. I have an apple here. Should eat that or the weight I’ve lost will pile right back on. I hate fat. I especially hate it on me, but….coping. Somehow.
Confidence. Just need to feel awake and alert and out of this fog for a few days and I’ll be back to my old self. Well, the good part of my old self, that is. lol…let’s be clear on that.
*deep breath* okay. Only 2.15 hours to go.
So, still no news. I’m kind of hoping this all just goes away if I ignore it long enough. I did okay at home but once I got here at work I felt so unsafe…exposed. I felt like they *know where I am* which completely messes with my sense of security. I’m not a part of that life anymore, with them, and it took so much to get away I really, really didn’t want to get dragged back in, no matter the issue. Curiosity though….*sigh* I keep picking up the phone and dialing the numbers…hanging up. (Why is the phone still in his name?) I don’t know if I could say anything if someone answered. The wife hates me so much and my dad isn’t particularly fond of me either, in his grave or out of it. If he answered, I don’t know what I’d do. I thought he was dead. If she answered, I don’t know what I’d do aside from stammer out some stupid question. What if he’s not dead buy dying? Would I have to go over there to make peace with him or something? I wasn’t given the opportunity to do that before but I wasn’t really all that miserable about it….I really don’t like to face this stuff. I had a hard enough time facing it in my own head….my memories, blank spots, the terror that raged inside me for so long…it took a part of my soul, processing all that. I guess that’s what I’m most afraid of. Having to face that again….the disappointment and the driving, twisting guilt and misery I have attached to these people. Now I’ve “hurt” them all by removing myself from their lives and I cannot deal with that. I just can’t. The snottiness in my mother’s recorded voice was almost more than I could handle. They just pull me back there….to that place where I used to be. I feel like I failed them all, despite the therapy and the logic that has drilled into my brain that it’s not me, not me, not mine, not mine….but it still is, somehow…you know? I don’t want to go back there. I’m afraid he’s still alive, but dying. I’m afraid he wants to see me…or, worse, doesn’t want to see me at all. Maybe he’s calling to see Colt? (I thought I was already free of this! It’s like he’s come back from the dead to get one last dig in). Why would he want to see Colt? He left our lives when Colt was a toddler and never bothered to engage or care again. Why NOW?
I’m driving myself crazy, doing this.
Over the weekend I packed a ton of stuff, keeping my mind busy. I had to go through three bins of baby stuff, which broke my heart. I always thought I’d be going through those bins of tiny clothes, little shoes and impossibly tiny socks with the joy of another baby being on the way. I imagined a girlfriend (or my mom) coming over to help me sort through everything, picking out the items that were gender neutral for the first few months….fawning over the little memories each piece pulled up, thinking about how Colt would be a big brother soon. lol…ohhh hormones/turning 40/hopelessness of life. I bawled thorough most of it. I had a big white pad of paper on the floor where I was taking photos of the like-new things I was thinking of selling rather than donating to a second hand store but I had to keep putting new pages down because I kept dripping tears on it as I laid the tiny things out. Colt came down at one point, took one look at me, my tears and a sleeper with feet clutched in my hands and turned on his heels to go immediately back upstairs. Dayne came in and asked how it was going. “I’m saaaaaaaaad!” I wailed.
He gave me a hug and said stupid things like ‘It’s okay, we can adopt if you want….foster? We can foster?” Haha…poor guy. It was a stupid thing to do on Mother’s Day but we’re moving soon and I couldn’t just keep avoiding those bins of stuff. They were watching me as I moved around the room. Anyway. Only one more to go and I’m done that little bit of emotional exposure.
We went out for breakfast on Mother’s Day – we go out for breakfast quite a bit on weekends so it wasn’t exactly a huge deal but Dayne and Colt took me to Sephora (make up paradise) to get a treat for myself afterwards, so that was sweet. I don’t wear a lot of make up at all but I do love the little touches like awesome mascara and pretty eye shadows. I got a neutral palate for my eyes and a roller ball of a new perfume I found that I am in love with. I can’t wear it to work, of course, but I can at home. I snuck a teeny bit on today and I can smell it when I move, a little bit. The coworker who has breathing fits whenever she smells someone’s hairspray just came to chat and didn’t so much as sniffle so I think I’m home free on this one.
Every time the phone rings I nearly throw up. I’m going to have to make that call eventually, aren’t I? Crap. :S
Well now. It’s two hours into the day and I’ve done nothing but answer the phone a few times and shuffle things around my desk. Better get moving before this day gets completely out of hand.
Still nothing. I did some online searching last night but came up with nothing. I found my sisters Twitter accounts, Facebook account, Instagram account, and several others but she makes no mention of anything happening in the family and/or has her profiles private because she doesn’t want me peeking into her life. The whole family set their profiles online to private just after I was told my father died years ago so I stop checking on them.Edit
I’ve called my work voicemail about 300 times from home waiting to see if somebody left a message. I mean, if you were looking for someone and you didn’t think you had found them by the sound of the voice mail message, wouldn’t you still leave a quick message saying “hey if this is you, could you call me back?” I listen to the slightly garbled message of my mother’s voice several times as well. She definitely has her “bitchy” voice going on but then, any reason that drew her to my fathers house would likely cause that to happen. Dayne is convinced that she was forced to call me (somehow, guilted maybe?) and, not wanting to have to face me, she is pretending not to recognize me. It’s not out of the realm of typical behaviour for my mother so it’s possible, I suppose.
In the end, if she wanted to reach me she would have. Both my brother and sister have emailed me on my Hotmail account, my work email, and another email account that I use just for signing up for things and barely ever check. If they want to get a hold of me they would’ve tried so I’m thinking the Dayne’s theory may be correct.
After a sleepless night, I think the best route to take, depending on my curiosity level, would be to email the stepmother and basically say “I’m writing just in case there’s a reason you need to get a hold of me, if necessary email me back, if not necessary please don’t.” Dayne’s not happy with that because he wants to know what’s going on….I’ve given myself the weekend to think it over.
What would you guys do?
…that now he’s actually dead? If it was my brother or sister my mother wouldn’t have run over to my father’s wife’s house to call me at work. Did I mention that the caller ID was still in his name and not his wife’s? Will they let you keep a phone that had your deceased husbands initial in front of it? Holy shit was he alive?? Is he still? Again, I cannot even picture a situation where my mom would go there.
Why didn’t she recognize my voice!!!? She didn’t sound like she was suffering dementia of any sort. She is from the UK and my step mother is (was?) from another country with an entirely different accent. No mistaking it.
(Goddamnit what the hell…”that’s not her voice”? I would know that woman by the way she knocked on the damn door. How do you not recognize your own daughters fucking voice?)
Okay. Even if he was still alive and then died and they told my mother, which they would I guess, she would have to travel across the city by bus to get to her ex husbands widow’s place. Okay? So then she gets there…and in the weird moments that followed she decided to pick up the phone and call my workplace? She’d have to have gone through switchboard to get to me and there just aren’t many Grainne’s around these parts, and then, when she got my voice mail she decided it wasn’t me after all. Some other Grainne then? Who works at my work place and shares her last name?
Dayne thought maybe they were reading a will, and I can sort of buy that except I’m quite sure I’m not in his will anywhere. I’m also certain that my mother, his ex wife of more than 20 years, whom he despised, would not be in there either, especially considering the fact that his current wife is still around. Maybe he killed her….the current. Maybe he’s in jail and she’s a bloated dead corpse on the living room floor and, for some reason, my mother (who never once set foot in his house for the last 20 years) went by and decided to pop in and call me at work…and then changed her mind.
Sigh. This is stupid. I should just call back shouldn’t I? I don’t know if I can do that. Birdie, thanks for the idea. I’ll see if Dayne will pretend he’s someone else and call to ask for him. Not sure he will though. He likes to stay out of my family’s goings-on. (As you might imagine, based on this insanity that I apparently cannot control the moment any of them are trying to reach me.)
Maybe he wasn’t dead. He has to be now though, although that still doesn’t explain why she was at his house.
Ahh unless she doesn’t want me to have her new phone number? (But come on, you could use call block in the 80’s. Surely she can figure out how to block her own number?).
This is stupid.
At work today I was working out of the office for the afternoon. I popped back in to check my phone before I left for the day and discovered two calls on my work caller ID, both from my dad’s home number. I froze solid and stared (my mouth was probably hanging open) and I toyed with the idea of just packing up and going home for the day without checking my messages but I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. I pressed the button that takes me to my voicemail and held my breath and finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button as a means of protection. I expected my dads wife to be the voice I heard but the first message was a hang up. The second was a pause, an unidentifiable sound of the receiver moving around, or possibly static, and then my mom’s voice, distant sounding, but so clearly hers say “that’s not her voice…” and then the call disconnected. I played it 10 times over and it was definitely her.
What was my mother doing at my father’s house? They were sworn, mortal enemies last I knew. I don’t understand it at all. Then a slow, creeping dread came over me and I nearly blacked out on my feet.
I never saw an actual obit when he died. I didn’t have a chance to go to the funeral and I didn’t actually hear about it from any of my family members….I was told in passing by an old friend of my dads that he died a few years ago. Could that have been a bullshit story to keep me away? Is that ridiculous? Maybe, but I can’t understand why my mother would be hanging at my dad’s second wife’s home years after wards. They weren’t exactly buddies. Why would she be there? If his wife died no one would tell me because that woman hated me like I’ve never been hated before. She actually snarled when forced to speak to me. There were visits where my dad forced her to come see me and would then drag Dayne off for a beer, leaving me with this woman who ignored me, refused to speak to or look at me, and, when cornered she would shake with rage as she explained how I was killing my father and that she hated me for it. (I haven’t ever quite understood that. In reality it was something like “you won’t do exactly what he wants so he gets super mad and makes up shit to stress himself out over so he has an excuse to get drunk and then he rages on about wanting to snap your bird like neck and I have to deal with that crap so just fucking do what he wants!”
Bizarre dynamics aside, no matter how she died, my mother would not even consider breaking 7 years of silence for that reason. So why was she calling me from his phone number? His land line at that?
Fuck. Now I’m worried they’re going to show up here. What do I do?
Why didn’t she recognize my voice?! That just pisses me right off. I knew it was her instantly.