Hot Mess

The other night I dreamed that my legs turned into wooden goat legs that looked like knotted tree trunks. It was the result of some God-sent plague and others had the problem as well.

I also dreamed that I was walking with a group of people and a couple of playful giraffes came up beside me and licked the back of the bald man's head in front of me.

Great dream memories.

Last night instead of trying to sleep I found contentment in watching two hour-long reenactment documentaries about various wild-west law men. My favorite one was about Bass Reeves who was a black man - a runaway slave - who put 3,000 men in prison and when he went out with a warrant, he never brought the wrong man back. Her became a legend and it was said that starting a gunfight with him was akin to committing suicide.

I got the feeling that the drive in Bass was so strong that he couldn't stop getting the bad guys. Perhaps he felt that if he stopped, his region would fall into disarray without him. Or maybe he really was doing it to feed his family as he claimed he was. I wonder if any part of him did glory in having a reputation as unstoppable and inescapable, a great protector and a just man with a pure heart.

Regardless, his family seemed to suffer since he spent much time "on the road" (not at home) searching for criminals and not much time with them.

Can you imagine marrying someone only to find he chooses to cheat on you by giving time and emotions to his job that belong to you as his wife?

I'm thankful I got to sit around with my dad and watch this, with fair certainty he wouldn't be willingly leaving my family and I for the sake of adventure. He and I experienced adventure and history vicariously through the narratives presented on the programs we watched. It was special time together.

I'm not very talented at rapidly flipping channels. When dad has power over the remote control, that's when the opportunity for quality time begins. If I choose to stay and put up with the shenanigans of channel-flipping, what we land on is usually something I would never personally pick but end up liking and learning from. 

I have a bunch of half-finished art projects on the floor. Can you believe it? I can. I'm super-great at not finishing things. They lose their appeal and they hang out taking up space forever, not changing, not reaching completion. I find it to be frustrating.

Maybe I'll just start something new.

My coworker and I agreed that today we are moth hot messes. Hopefully nobody else realizes. She actually looks really cute. Even if that doesn't count for everything.

But we're cosmetologists, so it kind of does.

Hot mess just means that working extra hours does nothing for one's health. One may cry, have mood swings, lower one's working standards, hide outside, or feel loopy, lose track of time and maybe even start to fall asleep.

Sleep.

Trippy

Last night when I woke up the first word that came to my mind was "trippy."

In fact, I think that is the wrong word to describe the activities of my brain. My mind came up with clear narratives and concepts that almost made sense but just missed the mark.

I dreamed about a 40-year old unmarried woman who was a servant in a well-to-do household running through several bright pink doors because she heard a strange sound, soon discovering that the young girls in the household were in the dark bathroom reciting "bloody Mary" in front of the mirror. Her horror was palpable. Her anger at the older woman sitting right in the room outside the bathroom (who obviously heard and wasn't doing anything to stop the activity) was also obvious. As she entered the bathroom. Other people rushed in and all of a sudden the wallpaper rolled away and the vibrant paintings underneath proved that the 40-year-old was, in fact, the true queen or ruler or owner of the household, not the old woman outside. And everyone was shocked and out in their place and happy.

And the deceptive old lady and her husband grew horse butts and walked around with four legs plotting revenge so they could get their ill-gained wealth back. It involved dumpsters and stuffed animals falling off of machinery.

I also dreamed that I was the newest chosen one to defeat these people, along with a group of other secret warriors who took long drives to go to random caves and talk about secret things. And it required being free on certain days to be in the group. I slept in the car and the ride was long and when we got out I was angry and upset to hear that all of our car rides would be this long.

I was also upset because our activity was to kayak up and down a rocky mountain with very little water to speak of. There were lots of other kayakers in the area, which made things stressful. Somehow I was missing my shoes, and, HORRORS, my camera got soaked! And I was all, "it was on! That means the electricity plus the water made everything short and now my camera is useless!  And my socks were soaked.

And I complained, and some girl on our team was like, " if you're not ready to take these challenges, maybe you're not ready to be on this team." And the whole team seemed like a sham to me, so I kind of wasn't too too upset with the idea of quitting, but really, when someone suggests I'm not good enough or ready enough for something, that upsets me.

That's the last thing I remember.

There was something about an emotionally-damaged, skeletal-looking and tall girl with a black pixie cut who was very good at fighting with martial arts in the evening. I tried to be encouraging to her.

I think that part had something to do with the matrix.

When something is trippy I guess that means it is hard to describe and without edges or transitions or clear narrative. So maybe that's not the perfect word to describe last night.

Let's go with almost-lifelike.