last post of the weekend...

The last thing I wanted to talk about now is that I am tempted to yet again subscribe to T-Mobile's Hot Spot service so that I can use my laptop at Starbux. The Starbux in Danville is the one place I have found where I can sit and write that feels like going to "the office" to me. I can't write at home. There are too many distractions. T-Mobile only charges me $19.95 more a month for the service and I can stop at any time... blah blah blah... the thing is I feel like writing! And this is strange because I have another creative outlet right now that is working really well for me. See? This is a sign that my consciousness is heightening, that my abilities are broadening and that I'm becoming more empowered. Whether I'll actually follow through and do this soon, we'll see. I almost called to re-join last night but made a short film (wait for the debut on YouTube) instead. The way you'll know (other than my telling you) that I'm sitting in Starbux writing will be that I'll add a little icon to this blog that will specify whether my webcam is online or not. Yes, I'll let you watch me work when I am at "the office"!

Ok, in closing let me share the dream that I had just before waking this noon. (I was up late 1:30am, woke early 8am, then napped from 10-12.) I answered the door to the house I was living in (which was unfamiliar to me) and there was this woman there. I apparently knew her, and was expecting her, but I don't know exactly who she was. She had come to tell me that even though she agreed to go on "this" date with me that she was sure things wouldn't work out with us. I was oblivious to what she was talking about and was just excited to have a visitor. Brought her inside, set her down on the sofa and made tea. I was talking to her as if she were an old friend (which she felt like and slightly resembled), almost gushing about how great it was to see her and wanting to know all about what was new. She couldn't get off the idea though that we "wouldn't work out". I heard the words but I didn't know what she was talking about. One detail of the dream that I remember is that I touched her when I spoke to her; I was comfortable, you know, and would put my fingers on her arm tenderly or brush her hair from her eyes - all unconsciously how you do with a friend. She took these gestures as more ammo for her argument though. She never yelled or argued or fought, just persisted. We were not having the same conversation.

Then she said that she had to go to work. I asked if I could come along. I was so happy to see her, and have a visitor - and was clueless to what she was going on about. Basically I got up, grabbed my camera bag and followed her out the door. She went along realizing that she wasn't going to be able to shake me off, not yet at least. So it seemed like we were either in London or New York and we walked up to a large entrance into the ground. There were a line of bulldozers, one of which she got into the driver's seat of. I climbed up and sat in the passenger's seat. (Yeah, these were almost like amusement park ride machines, but the hole in the ground was serious - these machines were going down to deeper levels to dig even deeper.)

So she kept going on with her tirade, "I bet you don't even like James Taylor, right?" At this point it started to get through to me. She was not just hyperbolizing anymore, now she was picking on small details and something that made me realize my character was being attacked. "Well you know, 20 years ago I sort of hated him."
"Yeah, if I took you to see him in concert you'd crawl into the back and go to sleep wouldn't you."
I smiled broadly, "Well, yeah - he does that to you but at least I would willingly walk in to the show with you!"

She kept driving us down further and I noticed that there was a pathway alongside the road we were on. It was a continuation of the very sidewalk we had walked up to the tunneling site upon and the same people we had passed when we boarded the bulldozer were now catching up with us. Two little girls in flowered dresses in particular caught my eye. I took my camera out and started to take photos. "And see? That would drive me crazy!" I had craned around in my seat and took a repetitive series of shots of the girls as we passed them, shooting them behind us. "But this is what I do," I sighed. "Hey, look at that." There were cracks in the walls of the hole/tunnel that looked out onto the street of the city. I could see houses and trees. "We are not all that deep into this as it seems, are we."

She went silent then. As if I had figured out that this whole chore of her job was a masquerade. The path leveled off in front of us, the end of the tunnel appeared and the progression of bulldozers pulled to the sides of the road before us. We had simply travelled deeper into this same city and were now parked alongside a lovely English-looking river.

Then I realized I was dreaming and woke up.