That sounds like it should be a title in the Bourne series.
I was going to use the word conclusion, but then I realised when it comes to this girl, nothing she does, no motive, no event, is really ever going to be final or conclusive. Just as our friendship.
Boy was my dream right. The hole in her top from being shot at, represents the shots being fired at her in real life. Her sister didn’t tell me this when I asked about Blonde, because she too is involved in the family turmoil that is clouding them all.
Without getting into detail, shit has happened, life changes and choices abound, and she feels like a little lost puppy, with many places to go, but with no real home.
I’m feeling quite torn and confused after our almost 2 hour Skype chat. I feel deeply sorry for her, and I even shed some tears of my own about my life in amongst her tear-stained face. We were a couple of massive sooks on a sunny Tuesday afternoon.
And, although my question of why she hasn’t made contact with me in ages has sort of been answered, in another way it kind of hasn’t. Although she said she tends to bottle things up, she mentioned how she’s been speaking to another close friend of hers, and I couldn’t help thinking ‘who contacted who?’ It’s very likely that the ‘other’ friend contacted Blonde, but I’m kind of wondering, festering slowly over the annoying chance that Blonde went to her… and then I must ask – why didn’t she come to me?
I know it’s a lot of ‘what ifs?’ but there’s the other annoying thing, the part where she didn’t mention, or take note ofthe fact that I was quite worried about her these last few months. Either she is oblivious to it, or doesn’t care that I was looking for her. I know she’s had a lot on, I get it; however I had this really overwhelming emotion come over me when we were talking, and I thought to myself ‘I’ve been listening to everyone this year, from their happiness, to mostly their crap and problems and issues with life, and now it’s time for me. What about me?’
What about me. That has been circling my head for a couple of days now. I need someone to listen to me as well. I need someone to care. I need someone to ask if I’m doing alright. I’m a person with real needs and emotions too.
The day after our Skype chat I noticed she had sent me an email which I hadn’t seen at the time. She said she was going to bed. Having not seen this, I’d logged onto Skype and she had told me she’d get out of bed when I messaged her. I just thought she was resting there… that shit me too. Here we are, we haven’t spoken in yonks, I’m worried about her, and she can’t stay up for a bit to talk to her ‘close’ friend? I can’t say bestie anymore…
I know she cares… but I just have to wonder. I wonder if I’ve invested more into this friendship than she has, and I feel that is apparent from her failure to acknowledge my concern, in her absence of reaching out to me in her hard time, and in the fact that she was still crying over Red. That makes me sad too; but I’m here. There is someone who cares. I don’t know if she’s seeing that, or if I’m looking into things too much.
I can’t talk to her for a while now. As hard as it is, and as much as I wanted her to know I'm thinking of her, I need to distance at this point in time. As much as I learnt the other day, I feel like I know that much less about our friendship. And the not-knowing hurts.
Showing posts with label dream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dream. Show all posts
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Nightmare on Sydney Road
Humans are a truly odd race. We strive for ideal lives, aspire to the best in everything, and seek constant perfection in a clearly imperfect world. Our world is flawed indeed. We are a perverse race. We watch the despair and destruction shown to us by the news every day, our ears perk up at the slightest information of someone’s dramas and unhappiness, and we slow down to observe the wreckages that are smashed-up cars on the freeway.
Sometimes we’re lucky and the nightmares we view are far removed from us, as if we are watching them on a television screen or at the movie theatre. We are made a distant observer by our not-knowing the person involved, and ignorance to the situation at hand, unable to really comprehend the pain and anguish that the ‘other’ must be feeling. It becomes a real life play, but one that we can easily turn away from: from our computer screens, our radios and our tvs.
Although we may appear a confused and twisted race, we are nonetheless less perverse than some. Some are so sick and bitter, that their actions are hard to understand from a living point of view. It’s because these people’s motives and actions are so warped, so different and hostile from anything we’ve ever experienced, that we can only understand them from a ‘movie’ point of view. It can only be something out of a movie, we say. But unfortunately in many cases, it is not. It is real, and we are living it, living next door to and walking by these people every single day.
My predilection for horror movies and scary stories has been around for as long as I can remember. From my Mum and Dad’s stories about the mystery that surrounded them when they were young, I have always had a strong fascination for the unknown. I would watch ‘Australian’s Most Wanted,’ and ‘The Extraordinary,’ and then take flying, running-up leaps into my bed, in fear that standing too close to the foot of it would result in some unknown stranger/creature, grabbing me and taking me away to an unknown land of horror.
Stranger. Creature. Kind of one and the same when you think of what they can do.
This fascination has endured my whole life, and though I consider myself turned ‘soft’ with age, seemingly unable to watch a movie at the cinemas without covering my eyes at any footage of dark corridors, ominous shadows and rising, pitching, leading-to-something inevitable music, I am still drawn into this dark world. Angel remains one of my favourite shows of all time; I’m reading Dracula at the moment: yet it scares me. Maybe it’s the adrenaline that comes with the fear; maybe it’s the search for continuous drama. The thrill that comes after the fact is so terrifying at times, and yet I keep going back for more.
As much as these things both scare and thrill me, I’ve been fortunate: I don’t have nightmares, as such. I add these two words because I never dream about witches, ghosts, vampires or anything that’s really after me: as such. I add these two words again, in contradiction to the above, because lately, things have changed.
Sydney Road has changed. Melbourne and its people, and the characters in it, are showing their true dark colours. And its seeping into my dreams at night.
Up until just weeks ago, I didn’t really have vivid nightmares. My earliest recollection of one was probably when I was about 11 years old, of a weird animal-like creature chasing me into my house, and I remember in the dream furiously trying to get my key into the front door and open the door before IT could get to me. My neighbour was with me, and I remember it chased her down the street to her house too.
Days later when I went to her house, I discovered she had had her appendix removed. Upon review of my earlier dream, and with the information that I had been in hospital recently with the intent to get my appendix out, but it hadn’t happened due to certain recent pubescent ‘discoveries,’ I was able to deduce that this creature had ‘gotten’ her, so to speak, but not me. I was able to escape the appendix fairies.
Ever since then I’ve paid a massive amount of attention to my dreams.
If I ever had a bad dream, it was more of an eerie feeling, rather than anything actually happening. A weird lady would be cackling at me, or someone would be watching me. But there was never any fight, struggle, chase, or horrifying monster coming to get me from the shadows.
But you don’t need to dream about it for it to be real. Sometimes the monsters manifest and come for you in real life.
Last week, when the news came out that a Melbourne woman, 29 year old Jill Meagher, had been reported missing by her husband in the inner-northern suburbs of Melbourne after Friday night work drinks, the news spread quickly. Her media-related job helped the case get a lot of notice – from what I heard people she worked with kept giving the story a lot of attention. Her family set up a facebook page to find her, and being on social media, it took off.
She went missing after leaving a bar in Brunswick early Saturday morning: it was just after 1:30pm, certainly not too late by any stretch of the imagination, definitely not for the weekend. Coupled with that fact, she was walking down Sydney Road which is a pretty main road, on her way home – and home was about a 5 minute walk away.
Those were her last known whereabouts.
I heard about the case last weekend, but it wasn’t until I saw her husband on the news on Monday morning that my heart crumpled. He was so distraught, so sad, so upset; he was absolutely shattered. I couldn’t help but think of me and my own husband, and I just felt his pain, right there and then, as he hoped and prayed for any information, for her safe return, for her to come back home.
As the case received more attention, there was a sudden discovery. Police had found her handbag in a nearby laneway, in an area they had previously searched through on the weekend. This told them that possibly it had been planted there, to throw police off the assumed kidnappers trail. Unfortunately, this led the line of enquiry back to her husband, and through repeated questions and an investigative period of over 6 hours at the home he shared with his missing wife, the police came out with a definite “he is NOT a suspect.”
As much as the evidence of them spending so long at her house suggested at it being the other, something inside of me, and of the way her husband had been so pleading on the news, told me he was not the culprit. Family members and friends of the victim are always the first to be interrogated in any tragedy that befalls them, so it was no surprise that her husband would be receiving that kind of scrutiny. We’ve seen it before in other cases: years ago a man was crying out for the safe return of his pregnant wife and young daughter on the news, and days later it was discovered that HE had in fact buried them both. Sad but true, but this is where the investigations usually, firstly lead. I was so glad to see the attention moving to find the real, actual abductor.
When CCTV footage emerged of a man walking up and down Sydney Road, talking to a woman who turned out to be Jill, the investigation and the media response to it turned up a gear. Everyone was talking about it. They still are. I still get goosebumps just thinking about it all. It was only days ago that I was watching the footage at work, the cameras from a boutique store on that road that captured the footpath outside. It showed a man in a blue hoodie walk past the shop headed left, then moments later backtrack and pass to the right. It is believed that before coming onto the CCTV camera, he passed her before we can actually see, and passed the camera. Then he comes back, and comes across her before she reaches the shop. However we soon see them talking in front of it. It’s my belief that perhaps he went up ahead to see if there were any people around, to see if the coast was clear. In fact, there were. The footage shows several people walk past minutes before the hooded man and Jill come into view.
As they come into view again, from the right, it shows him talking to her, and her hovering somewhat behind. She has her mobile in hand, as if about to use it. They move to the left of screen – he is out of the field of vision, but we can still see her, lingering, almost unsure of what to do. They then move off camera, and it is assumed she followed after him.
When talking to a colleague at work about this footage, she told me some theories have emerged online about this hoodie man being the same person who has tried several times to abduct and rape other women around Melbourne. The story used by this man to reel in his victims is to say that they are being followed by someone else, and he is there to help. Although it hasn’t come out what they were talking about, her hesitation shows some degree of confusion as to what he is telling her.
As days turned into more days, hope of finding her alive dimmed. As positive as I am, I know that an investigation like this is dependent on hours rather than days to find the victim. Still, something inside of me hoped and prayed that she was alright, however dim the possibility and the chance of finding her alive seemed to be.
I’ve had nightmares lately. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream about being in a haunted house with my husband, and having intense pressure weighted down on me by an unknown force – turning out to be the ghost who haunted that house. Other times I’ve woken up in a fright because of a feeling that someone is in the room, due to an eerie, weird dream I’ve had. Sometimes it just has to be a scary place, like the haunted house I dreamt about. That’s all it takes.
A couple of nights ago I woke to tell Hubbie “someone’s at the door.” I had heard knocking in the middle of the night, I was sure of it. But he assured me it was only a dream.
Nights later I dreamt of someone pushing me hard in the back. It was an intense, focused push, like a finger digging into my back. In my dream, it was Hubbie coming back from the toilet and pushing me, but when I woke up, screaming out “ahh!” I woke him up beside me. He was facing away from me, and yet the sensation of having someone push me from behind remained, like the feeling of sunburn hours after being outdoors for too long. It lingered, and that troubled me.
I didn’t know where all these dreams were coming from.
Last night, my nightmares escalated. It was night time, I was home alone and in the kitchen, and I could hear someone knocking loudly on our back sliding door. The stranger was yelling that he was going to come in if I didn’t let him in. In realising he wasn’t joking and he could perhaps be dangerous, I crept to the front door, let myself out into the darkness, and began bolting down the street. I kept looking back but there was no one to be seen. I kept running, thinking how I would run to the comfort and security of my parent’s house, but it was at this time that I started to wake up.
It seemed I’d woken up just before my alarm was to go off. I was so scared I didn’t want to get out of bed. But I eventually convinced myself that it was safe to do so, getting up, knowing I’d be late to work if I didn’t.
I listened to the radio with a keen ear on the way, knowing, hoping that surely, there would have been some development in the Jill Meagher case. It had been reported late last night that police had arrested a man after a day of questioning, but nothing had been confirmed as yet, as to whether he was the hooded man in the CCTV footage, or someone else knowing and/or responsible for her disappearance.
It was with great shock, sadness and also relief when I heard the news come through on the hour. Yes, he was the hooded man. Yes, he had been charged and arrested for her disappearance. And yes, they had found her… but not as everyone had hoped they would find her. He had led the police to her body overnight.
The few of us that were here at work crowded around the breaking news broadcasting over the TV, watching in curiosity and sadness the story that had captured the attentions of a city for the past week. I felt somewhat gratified that he had been captured: justice had prevailed, and the police had done a remarkable job of finding the man following a huge media campaign and awareness of what had happened. However it was too late, and knowing that it was probably too late even before her husband reported her missing the day after, was a sore realisation.
It’s a sad Friday morning in Melbourne. Both mine and my friends FB statuses display the sadness that this horrifying ordeal has come to. In the workplace it’s the most talked about conversation, and on the news it’s the feature story of every bulletin. Type in her name on the net, and endless searches about the case and the hooded man’s subsequent arrest abound.
And what have we learnt? What has this told us? That women shouldn’t EVER walk alone… in a world of equal opportunity and fair trial, what does it mean when a woman can’t walk home, 5 minutes to the comfort and safety of her home on a public street? What does it mean when this happens to a girl who lives in a busy neighbourhood, in a suburb you frequent, to a girl of your age, who has only been married as long as you have, and who works at a media organisation similar to yours? Who worked. What does that mean for me, for all women, for the entire city?
My imagination never let me stay secure and in a place of comfort before… I’d always look over my shoulder in my dark morning walk to work, quickly jump in and out of the car when it was night time, and turn on all the house lights as I made my way to the bathroom. I was paranoid and jumpy, just because of my upbringing, because of my preferred choice of entertainment… solely without any real reason for being, other than what I read and saw, what was fiction. Though when fiction becomes reality, and you truly have a reason to be scared… what then? Do you become a hermit, locked in your house, fearful of what’s beyond the safety of your own walls? What if what is dark and disturbing comes to you, as is the case of so many other real-life horror stories?
Thank goodness that damned cursed excuse for being is behind bars. May he be prosecuted, castrated, and all the limbs on his body slowly pulled apart, one by one, until all that remains is a big bloody mess. The universal law of Karma will ensure he gets that, and so much more. He’s hasn’t just hurt Jill, he hasn’t just hurt her family: he’s hurt an entire city.
In time, of course, our wounds will heal. Women will temporarily be on the lookout for odd-looking people, for these night creatures; they’ll travel in pairs, drive each other home with no chance of leaving them to walk alone, and avoid all conversation with randoms.
Time will heal, and with time, we’ll forget. We’re able to, because although it has happened to us, it hasn’t happened to us. As sad as it is, it will remain in the city’s subconscious… and like all things there, it will wane into a distant memory, almost forgotten, something that happened long ago.
And that is a sad thing, because things like these should never be forgotten. We should keep the memories in our minds, because with ignorance comes danger. Paranoia is a small price to pay for safety.
And that is a sober thought in the end. That the actions of a few twisted individuals of society should ruin the well-intentions of the rest of us. No one is safe anymore, and no one is allowed to ask for help, or be nice to anyone.
Like my dream, we can all run away. We can run away from the danger in our minds, push it far away, and pray for the stranger not to follow. We can do it, because all it is for us is a thought in our minds.
Jill sadly, cannot run away. She couldn’t. Her husband and her family can’t run away from it either, for it will remain a walking nightmare for them for the rest of their lives. I pray for them, and hope that they can take some comfort in knowing that justice will on some level be served.
R.I.P. Jill Meagher.
Sometimes we’re lucky and the nightmares we view are far removed from us, as if we are watching them on a television screen or at the movie theatre. We are made a distant observer by our not-knowing the person involved, and ignorance to the situation at hand, unable to really comprehend the pain and anguish that the ‘other’ must be feeling. It becomes a real life play, but one that we can easily turn away from: from our computer screens, our radios and our tvs.
Although we may appear a confused and twisted race, we are nonetheless less perverse than some. Some are so sick and bitter, that their actions are hard to understand from a living point of view. It’s because these people’s motives and actions are so warped, so different and hostile from anything we’ve ever experienced, that we can only understand them from a ‘movie’ point of view. It can only be something out of a movie, we say. But unfortunately in many cases, it is not. It is real, and we are living it, living next door to and walking by these people every single day.
My predilection for horror movies and scary stories has been around for as long as I can remember. From my Mum and Dad’s stories about the mystery that surrounded them when they were young, I have always had a strong fascination for the unknown. I would watch ‘Australian’s Most Wanted,’ and ‘The Extraordinary,’ and then take flying, running-up leaps into my bed, in fear that standing too close to the foot of it would result in some unknown stranger/creature, grabbing me and taking me away to an unknown land of horror.
Stranger. Creature. Kind of one and the same when you think of what they can do.
This fascination has endured my whole life, and though I consider myself turned ‘soft’ with age, seemingly unable to watch a movie at the cinemas without covering my eyes at any footage of dark corridors, ominous shadows and rising, pitching, leading-to-something inevitable music, I am still drawn into this dark world. Angel remains one of my favourite shows of all time; I’m reading Dracula at the moment: yet it scares me. Maybe it’s the adrenaline that comes with the fear; maybe it’s the search for continuous drama. The thrill that comes after the fact is so terrifying at times, and yet I keep going back for more.
As much as these things both scare and thrill me, I’ve been fortunate: I don’t have nightmares, as such. I add these two words because I never dream about witches, ghosts, vampires or anything that’s really after me: as such. I add these two words again, in contradiction to the above, because lately, things have changed.
Sydney Road has changed. Melbourne and its people, and the characters in it, are showing their true dark colours. And its seeping into my dreams at night.
Up until just weeks ago, I didn’t really have vivid nightmares. My earliest recollection of one was probably when I was about 11 years old, of a weird animal-like creature chasing me into my house, and I remember in the dream furiously trying to get my key into the front door and open the door before IT could get to me. My neighbour was with me, and I remember it chased her down the street to her house too.
Days later when I went to her house, I discovered she had had her appendix removed. Upon review of my earlier dream, and with the information that I had been in hospital recently with the intent to get my appendix out, but it hadn’t happened due to certain recent pubescent ‘discoveries,’ I was able to deduce that this creature had ‘gotten’ her, so to speak, but not me. I was able to escape the appendix fairies.
Ever since then I’ve paid a massive amount of attention to my dreams.
If I ever had a bad dream, it was more of an eerie feeling, rather than anything actually happening. A weird lady would be cackling at me, or someone would be watching me. But there was never any fight, struggle, chase, or horrifying monster coming to get me from the shadows.
But you don’t need to dream about it for it to be real. Sometimes the monsters manifest and come for you in real life.
Last week, when the news came out that a Melbourne woman, 29 year old Jill Meagher, had been reported missing by her husband in the inner-northern suburbs of Melbourne after Friday night work drinks, the news spread quickly. Her media-related job helped the case get a lot of notice – from what I heard people she worked with kept giving the story a lot of attention. Her family set up a facebook page to find her, and being on social media, it took off.
She went missing after leaving a bar in Brunswick early Saturday morning: it was just after 1:30pm, certainly not too late by any stretch of the imagination, definitely not for the weekend. Coupled with that fact, she was walking down Sydney Road which is a pretty main road, on her way home – and home was about a 5 minute walk away.
Those were her last known whereabouts.
I heard about the case last weekend, but it wasn’t until I saw her husband on the news on Monday morning that my heart crumpled. He was so distraught, so sad, so upset; he was absolutely shattered. I couldn’t help but think of me and my own husband, and I just felt his pain, right there and then, as he hoped and prayed for any information, for her safe return, for her to come back home.
As the case received more attention, there was a sudden discovery. Police had found her handbag in a nearby laneway, in an area they had previously searched through on the weekend. This told them that possibly it had been planted there, to throw police off the assumed kidnappers trail. Unfortunately, this led the line of enquiry back to her husband, and through repeated questions and an investigative period of over 6 hours at the home he shared with his missing wife, the police came out with a definite “he is NOT a suspect.”
As much as the evidence of them spending so long at her house suggested at it being the other, something inside of me, and of the way her husband had been so pleading on the news, told me he was not the culprit. Family members and friends of the victim are always the first to be interrogated in any tragedy that befalls them, so it was no surprise that her husband would be receiving that kind of scrutiny. We’ve seen it before in other cases: years ago a man was crying out for the safe return of his pregnant wife and young daughter on the news, and days later it was discovered that HE had in fact buried them both. Sad but true, but this is where the investigations usually, firstly lead. I was so glad to see the attention moving to find the real, actual abductor.
When CCTV footage emerged of a man walking up and down Sydney Road, talking to a woman who turned out to be Jill, the investigation and the media response to it turned up a gear. Everyone was talking about it. They still are. I still get goosebumps just thinking about it all. It was only days ago that I was watching the footage at work, the cameras from a boutique store on that road that captured the footpath outside. It showed a man in a blue hoodie walk past the shop headed left, then moments later backtrack and pass to the right. It is believed that before coming onto the CCTV camera, he passed her before we can actually see, and passed the camera. Then he comes back, and comes across her before she reaches the shop. However we soon see them talking in front of it. It’s my belief that perhaps he went up ahead to see if there were any people around, to see if the coast was clear. In fact, there were. The footage shows several people walk past minutes before the hooded man and Jill come into view.
As they come into view again, from the right, it shows him talking to her, and her hovering somewhat behind. She has her mobile in hand, as if about to use it. They move to the left of screen – he is out of the field of vision, but we can still see her, lingering, almost unsure of what to do. They then move off camera, and it is assumed she followed after him.
When talking to a colleague at work about this footage, she told me some theories have emerged online about this hoodie man being the same person who has tried several times to abduct and rape other women around Melbourne. The story used by this man to reel in his victims is to say that they are being followed by someone else, and he is there to help. Although it hasn’t come out what they were talking about, her hesitation shows some degree of confusion as to what he is telling her.
As days turned into more days, hope of finding her alive dimmed. As positive as I am, I know that an investigation like this is dependent on hours rather than days to find the victim. Still, something inside of me hoped and prayed that she was alright, however dim the possibility and the chance of finding her alive seemed to be.
I’ve had nightmares lately. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream about being in a haunted house with my husband, and having intense pressure weighted down on me by an unknown force – turning out to be the ghost who haunted that house. Other times I’ve woken up in a fright because of a feeling that someone is in the room, due to an eerie, weird dream I’ve had. Sometimes it just has to be a scary place, like the haunted house I dreamt about. That’s all it takes.
A couple of nights ago I woke to tell Hubbie “someone’s at the door.” I had heard knocking in the middle of the night, I was sure of it. But he assured me it was only a dream.
Nights later I dreamt of someone pushing me hard in the back. It was an intense, focused push, like a finger digging into my back. In my dream, it was Hubbie coming back from the toilet and pushing me, but when I woke up, screaming out “ahh!” I woke him up beside me. He was facing away from me, and yet the sensation of having someone push me from behind remained, like the feeling of sunburn hours after being outdoors for too long. It lingered, and that troubled me.
I didn’t know where all these dreams were coming from.
Last night, my nightmares escalated. It was night time, I was home alone and in the kitchen, and I could hear someone knocking loudly on our back sliding door. The stranger was yelling that he was going to come in if I didn’t let him in. In realising he wasn’t joking and he could perhaps be dangerous, I crept to the front door, let myself out into the darkness, and began bolting down the street. I kept looking back but there was no one to be seen. I kept running, thinking how I would run to the comfort and security of my parent’s house, but it was at this time that I started to wake up.
It seemed I’d woken up just before my alarm was to go off. I was so scared I didn’t want to get out of bed. But I eventually convinced myself that it was safe to do so, getting up, knowing I’d be late to work if I didn’t.
I listened to the radio with a keen ear on the way, knowing, hoping that surely, there would have been some development in the Jill Meagher case. It had been reported late last night that police had arrested a man after a day of questioning, but nothing had been confirmed as yet, as to whether he was the hooded man in the CCTV footage, or someone else knowing and/or responsible for her disappearance.
It was with great shock, sadness and also relief when I heard the news come through on the hour. Yes, he was the hooded man. Yes, he had been charged and arrested for her disappearance. And yes, they had found her… but not as everyone had hoped they would find her. He had led the police to her body overnight.
The few of us that were here at work crowded around the breaking news broadcasting over the TV, watching in curiosity and sadness the story that had captured the attentions of a city for the past week. I felt somewhat gratified that he had been captured: justice had prevailed, and the police had done a remarkable job of finding the man following a huge media campaign and awareness of what had happened. However it was too late, and knowing that it was probably too late even before her husband reported her missing the day after, was a sore realisation.
It’s a sad Friday morning in Melbourne. Both mine and my friends FB statuses display the sadness that this horrifying ordeal has come to. In the workplace it’s the most talked about conversation, and on the news it’s the feature story of every bulletin. Type in her name on the net, and endless searches about the case and the hooded man’s subsequent arrest abound.
And what have we learnt? What has this told us? That women shouldn’t EVER walk alone… in a world of equal opportunity and fair trial, what does it mean when a woman can’t walk home, 5 minutes to the comfort and safety of her home on a public street? What does it mean when this happens to a girl who lives in a busy neighbourhood, in a suburb you frequent, to a girl of your age, who has only been married as long as you have, and who works at a media organisation similar to yours? Who worked. What does that mean for me, for all women, for the entire city?
My imagination never let me stay secure and in a place of comfort before… I’d always look over my shoulder in my dark morning walk to work, quickly jump in and out of the car when it was night time, and turn on all the house lights as I made my way to the bathroom. I was paranoid and jumpy, just because of my upbringing, because of my preferred choice of entertainment… solely without any real reason for being, other than what I read and saw, what was fiction. Though when fiction becomes reality, and you truly have a reason to be scared… what then? Do you become a hermit, locked in your house, fearful of what’s beyond the safety of your own walls? What if what is dark and disturbing comes to you, as is the case of so many other real-life horror stories?
Thank goodness that damned cursed excuse for being is behind bars. May he be prosecuted, castrated, and all the limbs on his body slowly pulled apart, one by one, until all that remains is a big bloody mess. The universal law of Karma will ensure he gets that, and so much more. He’s hasn’t just hurt Jill, he hasn’t just hurt her family: he’s hurt an entire city.
In time, of course, our wounds will heal. Women will temporarily be on the lookout for odd-looking people, for these night creatures; they’ll travel in pairs, drive each other home with no chance of leaving them to walk alone, and avoid all conversation with randoms.
Time will heal, and with time, we’ll forget. We’re able to, because although it has happened to us, it hasn’t happened to us. As sad as it is, it will remain in the city’s subconscious… and like all things there, it will wane into a distant memory, almost forgotten, something that happened long ago.
And that is a sad thing, because things like these should never be forgotten. We should keep the memories in our minds, because with ignorance comes danger. Paranoia is a small price to pay for safety.
And that is a sober thought in the end. That the actions of a few twisted individuals of society should ruin the well-intentions of the rest of us. No one is safe anymore, and no one is allowed to ask for help, or be nice to anyone.
Like my dream, we can all run away. We can run away from the danger in our minds, push it far away, and pray for the stranger not to follow. We can do it, because all it is for us is a thought in our minds.
Jill sadly, cannot run away. She couldn’t. Her husband and her family can’t run away from it either, for it will remain a walking nightmare for them for the rest of their lives. I pray for them, and hope that they can take some comfort in knowing that justice will on some level be served.
R.I.P. Jill Meagher.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Driving in my Dreams
I've had a few things on my mind as of late (as always) but after waking up yesterday morning with the memory of my dream so fresh in my mind, I just had to get it out there.
I had a dream about my dream car: the Nissan 370Z. Yes, it is my dream to have this car, but it will not remain one, because the wish will come to fruition, 'til the day that it is in fact a reality.
It was such a weird dream because I wasn't driving the car, it was Hubbie. It's funny, because in the dream it was a manual, and although my current car is auto and I've never driven anything but, Hubbie and I have spoken about the day when I do get it, that I will get it manual and learn how to drive. That's because the only way to have that car is as a manual. And so in the dream he was driving it because I still didn't know how to drive manual. Although at one point in the dream Hubbie did ask me to hold the wheel for him, hmmmmmm I wonder what that could mean......
And to make it more weird, the car had a back seat, with 2 random men in it. 1, the car doesn't actually have a back seat, (although sometimes I wish it did, so it would make me feel less bad about having a car that only seats one other person at a time!) and 2, the men seemed to me to be some kind of business people? Weird.
What was completely realistic though was that we all went shopping (random business guys included) and I bought a lot of clothes before we went off driving again. I love shopping. So that part of the dream is totally believable.
And you know when you wake up, and it feels like you've just finished dreaming that dream? So all the details are still fresh in your mind, so you feel like you can just fall asleep again and gently slip into the drivers seat..... or passengers seat as was my case.
Ahhhhh, 370Z, how I love you so.
THIS PHOTO IS NOT MY PROPERTY, DOES NOT BELONG TO ME IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM.
Oh, and the car in my dream was a convertible, the roadster version, as above. In real life, I sorta don't care, I'll take any model really if someone hands it to me :)
I had a dream about my dream car: the Nissan 370Z. Yes, it is my dream to have this car, but it will not remain one, because the wish will come to fruition, 'til the day that it is in fact a reality.
It was such a weird dream because I wasn't driving the car, it was Hubbie. It's funny, because in the dream it was a manual, and although my current car is auto and I've never driven anything but, Hubbie and I have spoken about the day when I do get it, that I will get it manual and learn how to drive. That's because the only way to have that car is as a manual. And so in the dream he was driving it because I still didn't know how to drive manual. Although at one point in the dream Hubbie did ask me to hold the wheel for him, hmmmmmm I wonder what that could mean......
And to make it more weird, the car had a back seat, with 2 random men in it. 1, the car doesn't actually have a back seat, (although sometimes I wish it did, so it would make me feel less bad about having a car that only seats one other person at a time!) and 2, the men seemed to me to be some kind of business people? Weird.
What was completely realistic though was that we all went shopping (random business guys included) and I bought a lot of clothes before we went off driving again. I love shopping. So that part of the dream is totally believable.
And you know when you wake up, and it feels like you've just finished dreaming that dream? So all the details are still fresh in your mind, so you feel like you can just fall asleep again and gently slip into the drivers seat..... or passengers seat as was my case.
Ahhhhh, 370Z, how I love you so.
THIS PHOTO IS NOT MY PROPERTY, DOES NOT BELONG TO ME IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM.
Oh, and the car in my dream was a convertible, the roadster version, as above. In real life, I sorta don't care, I'll take any model really if someone hands it to me :)
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Crazy Eye
I am not kidding or exaggerating in the least when I say that for the last three weeks, my right eye has been twitching on and off.
I say on and off (thank goodness) because you could imagine my utter embarrassment if it was actually twitching non-stop. I wouldn't be able to leave the house in fear of scaring off people with my wildly flailing eye.
At first I thought my crazy-eye twitching was as a result of hearing or speaking of something unfavourable, something or someone I didn't like, hence the name 'crazy eye.' This deduction came to mind after talking to my mum about an annoying cousin, and noticing that my right eye was twitching. That was my first 'A-ha!' moment.
My next moment came in a fit of road rage over stupid incompetent drivers, where also, lo and behold, I noticed the now all too familiar eye twitch.
However, despite my little nickname for this sudden deformity I've developed, I don't believe it to be caused by anything. That is, my eye twitch resulting from being mad or upset. This eye twitch does not discriminate: home, work, family, friends, happy, sad..... no matter how I'm feeling, where I am or who I'm talking to, my right eye will just begin to twitch of it's own accord.
(It's even twitching right now, I'm not freaking kidding!)
I used to believe that your right eye twitching was an indicator of good things to come, you know, like superstition, the way someone might believe that seeing a dove is a sign of good fortune. I think I read it in one of those dream books that decipher dream meanings. However I'm inclined to lean towards my mums belief, only because hey, she's my mum and she knows 'stuff' and has a WHOLE lot more experience than me. She believes that it's in fact your left eye that brings you luck, and that your right eye twitching is a BAD sign.
Dum, da dum da.
She has experience in these matters you see, as a result of having grown up in a heavily-superstitious environment/time/culture, as mentioned in a much earlier post. So I take most of her stories at face value.
The fact that my eye has been twitching though for 3 weeks now, I can't help but thinking that it means neither good, or bad (I know, as literally crazy as it sounds) but that it may be as simple as some kind of weird twitch.
It's just that I keep getting these random flashes in my mind of Jack Nicholson in "The Shining," where he's experiencing an eye twitch after his hallucinations have transgressed him into an outrageous other-worldly realm.
Am I turning into some psycho-weird mad-woman right eye twitcher? Influenced by stupid people over the last year, whose behaviours have turned me into an enraged bottled-up fuel of emotions, whose only physical outlet is the right eye twitching?
Stay tuned to this mad woman.
I say on and off (thank goodness) because you could imagine my utter embarrassment if it was actually twitching non-stop. I wouldn't be able to leave the house in fear of scaring off people with my wildly flailing eye.
At first I thought my crazy-eye twitching was as a result of hearing or speaking of something unfavourable, something or someone I didn't like, hence the name 'crazy eye.' This deduction came to mind after talking to my mum about an annoying cousin, and noticing that my right eye was twitching. That was my first 'A-ha!' moment.
My next moment came in a fit of road rage over stupid incompetent drivers, where also, lo and behold, I noticed the now all too familiar eye twitch.
However, despite my little nickname for this sudden deformity I've developed, I don't believe it to be caused by anything. That is, my eye twitch resulting from being mad or upset. This eye twitch does not discriminate: home, work, family, friends, happy, sad..... no matter how I'm feeling, where I am or who I'm talking to, my right eye will just begin to twitch of it's own accord.
(It's even twitching right now, I'm not freaking kidding!)
I used to believe that your right eye twitching was an indicator of good things to come, you know, like superstition, the way someone might believe that seeing a dove is a sign of good fortune. I think I read it in one of those dream books that decipher dream meanings. However I'm inclined to lean towards my mums belief, only because hey, she's my mum and she knows 'stuff' and has a WHOLE lot more experience than me. She believes that it's in fact your left eye that brings you luck, and that your right eye twitching is a BAD sign.
Dum, da dum da.
She has experience in these matters you see, as a result of having grown up in a heavily-superstitious environment/time/culture, as mentioned in a much earlier post. So I take most of her stories at face value.
The fact that my eye has been twitching though for 3 weeks now, I can't help but thinking that it means neither good, or bad (I know, as literally crazy as it sounds) but that it may be as simple as some kind of weird twitch.
It's just that I keep getting these random flashes in my mind of Jack Nicholson in "The Shining," where he's experiencing an eye twitch after his hallucinations have transgressed him into an outrageous other-worldly realm.
Am I turning into some psycho-weird mad-woman right eye twitcher? Influenced by stupid people over the last year, whose behaviours have turned me into an enraged bottled-up fuel of emotions, whose only physical outlet is the right eye twitching?
Stay tuned to this mad woman.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
My Baby Girl, Alana
I had a really weird dream waking up on Saturday.
(I know, I'm always having some sort of weird dream).
But this was quite odd, as that particular early morning when I heard Hubbie getting ready in the bedroom as he was getting ready to leave for work, I then fell asleep and had this trippy dream, only to wake up again as his car was departing.
So knowing his morning get-to-work routine, I'd had this dream within 10-15 minutes of being awake, falling asleep and waking up again.
Weeeiirrddddd.
The dream itself was a bit jumpy. Here's what I remember though.
- Being in a dimly-lit hospital room. Heavily pregnant, lying on a bed, with a midwife besides me. She says "One more push, and that's it." I tense and give one big push, and it seems the baby just POPS! out.
- Standing in front of a mirror, my midriff visible, admiring my flat stomach. Thinking 'this isn't so bad. See I just gave birth and my stomach is super flat.'
- Looking at an ultrasound photo of my baby girl. Thinking 'she looks like me when I was a baby.'
- Arriving home with the new addition. Looking at her and thinking 'my baby girl, Alana.'
- Remembering suddenly after being home for 24 hours that 'oh shit! I need to check on her! Does she need milk, a nappy change, anything?' Realising that I was gonna have to do this mother thing a bit differently, and focus a bit more on the new baby that was suddenly a part of our lives.
- Listening to Hubbie who was on his way to work (he was dressed for it) who had just checked up on our baby girl, recount how he felt looking at her: "she's so amazing! I could just look at her all day." Watching his face, how it lit up when he spoke of her, how his eyes shone with wonder and awe, his whole demeanour a picture of fascination and utter devotion.
When I woke up only minutes later, hearing Hubbie's car start up in the garage, I couldn't stop repeating the scenes of the dream in my head. You know when you've woken from a dream, and even though you know it was just a dream, you can't stop thinking of it and believing in it? I just kept thinking 'oh wow, our baby girl, Alana. What a unique name.' I kept thinking of how much love I had just developed, for this unplanned and unreal baby, that hadn't been in my consciousness for more than 20 minutes. Thinking of the love on Hubbie's face, the coinciding love that I too had felt, and the feelings of the dream just continued to overwhelm me. I couldn't stop thinking about it, however miraculously I was able to fall asleep again.
The dream itself and the subsequent emotions it produced in me are very out of the ordinary, as EVERY OTHER dream I've EVER had about being pregnant, or having a baby leads to both dream-feelings and after-dream-real-life-feelings of 'no, I'm not ready,' or 'no, I don't wanna do this' or 'I want this thing out of me but I don't wanna get it out, AHHH!'
Suffice to say that Hubbie and I are not yet in the middle of plans to extend the family. I have never despised children, but seeing as we both have sisters with children of their own, we have been first-hand witnesses to the struggles of raising them, and both the effort and commitment required to grow them up.
That combined with my open proclaimation that I am in a selfish phase (Hubbie likes to say we are simply 'enjoying' this phase of our marriage!), I want to be extra, extra, extra sure that I have certain things out of my system before we take the next big step. I need to be ready. Blonde tells me from her talks with mothers that you will never ever really be ready. Which is also quite scary if you think about being unprepared for the next step and having something growing inside of you. But I truly believe that I will feel something change in me, and I will know it is time.
However after this dream, I don't feel there needs to be much twisting of my arm, too much coaxing from Hubbie before we make the decision. When you feel the emotion of love, so true and so real in a dream, the feeling produced lasts long after the dream has ended. Like the fear brought about from a nightmare, so too does the feeling of love transfer into real life and extend long past days into weeks.
I guess I'm lucky, I have time on my side. We can't really do anything, seeing as our plan is first to build our house and move in and get settled before making any other big changes.
But, I can't lie, the dream has got my head ticking....ticking.....
Hubbie thinks Alana is an interesting name. I had to run the dream past him, of course :)
On an aside, it's also weird that I dreamt this, seeing as just recently I read and commented on a blog which I follow called "The Crymes Syndicate."
Margaret's post "The giraffe-necked baby was all in your head" recounts her dream of her unborn child, and it's a great read. You must check it out:
http://www.crymesyndicate.com/2010/08/giraffe-necked-baby-was-all-in-your.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TheCrymesSyndicate+%28The+Crymes+Syndicate%29
And on an aside number 2, guess what one of the story highlights of the day are on todays My Daily News link?
"What should you eat to fall pregnant with a girl?"
Not. Joking.
(I know, I'm always having some sort of weird dream).
But this was quite odd, as that particular early morning when I heard Hubbie getting ready in the bedroom as he was getting ready to leave for work, I then fell asleep and had this trippy dream, only to wake up again as his car was departing.
So knowing his morning get-to-work routine, I'd had this dream within 10-15 minutes of being awake, falling asleep and waking up again.
Weeeiirrddddd.
The dream itself was a bit jumpy. Here's what I remember though.
- Being in a dimly-lit hospital room. Heavily pregnant, lying on a bed, with a midwife besides me. She says "One more push, and that's it." I tense and give one big push, and it seems the baby just POPS! out.
- Standing in front of a mirror, my midriff visible, admiring my flat stomach. Thinking 'this isn't so bad. See I just gave birth and my stomach is super flat.'
- Looking at an ultrasound photo of my baby girl. Thinking 'she looks like me when I was a baby.'
- Arriving home with the new addition. Looking at her and thinking 'my baby girl, Alana.'
- Remembering suddenly after being home for 24 hours that 'oh shit! I need to check on her! Does she need milk, a nappy change, anything?' Realising that I was gonna have to do this mother thing a bit differently, and focus a bit more on the new baby that was suddenly a part of our lives.
- Listening to Hubbie who was on his way to work (he was dressed for it) who had just checked up on our baby girl, recount how he felt looking at her: "she's so amazing! I could just look at her all day." Watching his face, how it lit up when he spoke of her, how his eyes shone with wonder and awe, his whole demeanour a picture of fascination and utter devotion.
When I woke up only minutes later, hearing Hubbie's car start up in the garage, I couldn't stop repeating the scenes of the dream in my head. You know when you've woken from a dream, and even though you know it was just a dream, you can't stop thinking of it and believing in it? I just kept thinking 'oh wow, our baby girl, Alana. What a unique name.' I kept thinking of how much love I had just developed, for this unplanned and unreal baby, that hadn't been in my consciousness for more than 20 minutes. Thinking of the love on Hubbie's face, the coinciding love that I too had felt, and the feelings of the dream just continued to overwhelm me. I couldn't stop thinking about it, however miraculously I was able to fall asleep again.
The dream itself and the subsequent emotions it produced in me are very out of the ordinary, as EVERY OTHER dream I've EVER had about being pregnant, or having a baby leads to both dream-feelings and after-dream-real-life-feelings of 'no, I'm not ready,' or 'no, I don't wanna do this' or 'I want this thing out of me but I don't wanna get it out, AHHH!'
Suffice to say that Hubbie and I are not yet in the middle of plans to extend the family. I have never despised children, but seeing as we both have sisters with children of their own, we have been first-hand witnesses to the struggles of raising them, and both the effort and commitment required to grow them up.
That combined with my open proclaimation that I am in a selfish phase (Hubbie likes to say we are simply 'enjoying' this phase of our marriage!), I want to be extra, extra, extra sure that I have certain things out of my system before we take the next big step. I need to be ready. Blonde tells me from her talks with mothers that you will never ever really be ready. Which is also quite scary if you think about being unprepared for the next step and having something growing inside of you. But I truly believe that I will feel something change in me, and I will know it is time.
However after this dream, I don't feel there needs to be much twisting of my arm, too much coaxing from Hubbie before we make the decision. When you feel the emotion of love, so true and so real in a dream, the feeling produced lasts long after the dream has ended. Like the fear brought about from a nightmare, so too does the feeling of love transfer into real life and extend long past days into weeks.
I guess I'm lucky, I have time on my side. We can't really do anything, seeing as our plan is first to build our house and move in and get settled before making any other big changes.
But, I can't lie, the dream has got my head ticking....ticking.....
Hubbie thinks Alana is an interesting name. I had to run the dream past him, of course :)
On an aside, it's also weird that I dreamt this, seeing as just recently I read and commented on a blog which I follow called "The Crymes Syndicate."
Margaret's post "The giraffe-necked baby was all in your head" recounts her dream of her unborn child, and it's a great read. You must check it out:
http://www.crymesyndicate.com/2010/08/giraffe-necked-baby-was-all-in-your.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TheCrymesSyndicate+%28The+Crymes+Syndicate%29
And on an aside number 2, guess what one of the story highlights of the day are on todays My Daily News link?
"What should you eat to fall pregnant with a girl?"
Not. Joking.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Random Observations of My Life
I feel like writing, and so here I am, writing about nothing in particular it seems.
And so it looks like I'm cold-y. I was flu-y, a couple weeks ago, with what apeared to be a severe throat infection. I say "what appeared" because I never actually confirmed it with the doctor. I didn't have to. I could feel it. The intense burning was enough confirmation for me. I just went to see him for the drugs. I do not apologise for my gratification from instant pain relief.
So now I've been sneezing, A LOT, I have a very very slight runny nose, and a decent amount of flem in my throat.
Great. My best friend the Flem. How I missed you so.
But I took some drugs last night (otherwise known as doctor prescribed tablets) deliberately left over from the last time I was sick, in the case of an emergency such as this.
I don't know whether it was the tablets, the pasta I ate, or the fact that my body had to wind down after my oh-so-hot shower. Or from the marathon Hubbie and I went through on the weekend which has left me wondering if my internal organs are still intact. And by marathon I don't mean in the sprinting sense.
Great. I just sneezed again. And someone here at work has just sprayed perfume. BEAUTIFUL. Because that is really going to subdue my nose which is becoming runny again. YAY me. And then I will have to go and blow my nose in the toilet again, because I have some unreasonable weirdness about doing it in front of people. I find it embarrassing. Just as I find embarrassing peeing in public toilets when there's someone else in there. I guess it's a case of mild shy bladder syndrome. Mild because I'm only affected when there's only one other person in the toilets. If there's more than one person, I'm not that concerned. So I have a bladder with a numero uno grade parusesis phobia. It's picky too. Seems my bladder takes after me.
I just blew my nose, very quietly. Yes I can't be stuffed going back into the bathroom. I'll just have to wonder forever (or 'til my next toilet break, whichever comes first) if I have snot hanging out my nose. Hey, maybe there's a phobia for that too. Snotaphobia it should be called.
Don't laugh, I just found out my fear of moths is a real one: Mottephobia.
Sigh.
Do you ever wonder why you dream so often at night? And by dream I don't mean the dreaming you do when you're asleep, I'm referring to the conscious dreams and hopes you have, that fly through your head at night when funnily enough you should be relaxing in order to fall asleep. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I have an overly active imagination. Maybe it is true that with Neptune ruling my birth number, I am prone to vividly wild and colourful dreams and fantasies.
But things just seem to pop into my head at night, the most interesting and weirdest ideas, but also the most fantastic. The most recent thing I've decided, as a result from laying-in-bed-at-night dreaming, was to start writing books. It's an old idea, which has recently been re-born from a conversation shared with Hubbie about our aspirations in life. It suddenly occurred to me during this discussion with him, that I actually held no current motivations to pursue a higher position in my workplace. When I realised I was happy where I was, and had come as far as I'd wanted to, I had to wonder: Did I have any work-related aspirations left?
For so long I had wanted to be a part of this industry, and now that I'd achieved it, and I was part of a large organisation, I had no desire to move up.
So I thought. And thought. And I didn't have to think much longer until it hit me.
I pictured writing. Creating. Then I pictured writing AND bringing that to the screen.....
And just like that. It was there all along. I'd always loved writing. I gave up the pursuit into that area academically after Martin "bastard" Bashir's disgustingly discriminative and one-sided interview against Michael Jackson during my first years at uni. The fact that he was a journalist, put me off the idea of writing for a living (well that, and also most magazines are published in the adjoining state, and I didn't see myself moving there, or working for a newspaper firm here.)
So instead I had looked to film and television. I never even considered writing an actual book, as I didn't want any time spent on a profession that I believed would not give me many returns, a profession that would be hit-and-miss in terms of success and monetary rewards.
So I just forgot. Forgot about my love, forgot about my dreams. Yes, I was still pursuing one line of interest, in tv/film, but what had happened is that I went through a grown-up phase. It's a phase in which you decide to grow up too fast, be all responsible, and unfortunately in turn, let go of the one thing you do well. Really well.
Until just recently. I had my "life talk" with Hubbie, where he initially put the idea into my head, which was subsequently followed by my discussion with Red, waiting in line for the midnight screening of Eclipse. And since then I've had thoughts running through my mind a mile a minute. Story ideas, characters; all a follow-through on things I've thought before, started before, but never really had time to devote to. And the difference now you might ask? Well now I have the time. I can make the time after work hours. I can work, AND pursue a love of mine. Now, I'm living in ATS rather than BTS. After-The-Secret. I NOW know that there is an abundance of love, happiness, health, wealth and success, available for EVERYONE in this Universe. It's all there only if you believe in it.
And I truly, truly believe in it.
So I guess that brings me back to my prior point. About only dreaming at night, while lying in bed. I find myself imagining things, planning things, and half the time I don't even follow-through with them. It's so annoying. I put it down to time, but really it comes down to lack of motivation and determination. And I hate to admit to being lazy and slack, so trust me this isn't an easy feat. And obviously, my book comes into this. I have so many ideas, but I'm unable to organise everything in my head. Maybe that's the true reason. Because everything is so 'blah' in my head, I find myself lacking a bit of 'POW!' to actually start anything. But I will make that change I tell you!
So, have you ever wondered about shit films? Like, you know, really random, horribly produced, directed and acted movies? I find myself, every so often, after watching a really crap film, wondering who the bozo was to give the go-ahead on such an atrocity? I mean, when something goes straight to video, wouldn't it make sense to NOT let that same guy act/direct/produce again? In this case it's probably a case of money, and money doing the walking and the talking on the way to creating something resembling a film, but falling way far short of it.
So all these points combined, and I will write a freaking fantastic set of books. And it will be full of awesomeness and goodness and inspiredness. Hopefully not including any of those 3 words as it wouldn't get past the draft stage.
Oh yeah, and the getting it to the screen part? Well, I have another dream. And going by my industry contacts.... LOL. I'd love to see it on the screen. My ideas, born from my brain, for all to see, because I truly believe, they can be acted out in a tremendous way.
Yes I know I aim big. It's not my fault. I just dare to dream.
And so it looks like I'm cold-y. I was flu-y, a couple weeks ago, with what apeared to be a severe throat infection. I say "what appeared" because I never actually confirmed it with the doctor. I didn't have to. I could feel it. The intense burning was enough confirmation for me. I just went to see him for the drugs. I do not apologise for my gratification from instant pain relief.
So now I've been sneezing, A LOT, I have a very very slight runny nose, and a decent amount of flem in my throat.
Great. My best friend the Flem. How I missed you so.
But I took some drugs last night (otherwise known as doctor prescribed tablets) deliberately left over from the last time I was sick, in the case of an emergency such as this.
I don't know whether it was the tablets, the pasta I ate, or the fact that my body had to wind down after my oh-so-hot shower. Or from the marathon Hubbie and I went through on the weekend which has left me wondering if my internal organs are still intact. And by marathon I don't mean in the sprinting sense.
Great. I just sneezed again. And someone here at work has just sprayed perfume. BEAUTIFUL. Because that is really going to subdue my nose which is becoming runny again. YAY me. And then I will have to go and blow my nose in the toilet again, because I have some unreasonable weirdness about doing it in front of people. I find it embarrassing. Just as I find embarrassing peeing in public toilets when there's someone else in there. I guess it's a case of mild shy bladder syndrome. Mild because I'm only affected when there's only one other person in the toilets. If there's more than one person, I'm not that concerned. So I have a bladder with a numero uno grade parusesis phobia. It's picky too. Seems my bladder takes after me.
I just blew my nose, very quietly. Yes I can't be stuffed going back into the bathroom. I'll just have to wonder forever (or 'til my next toilet break, whichever comes first) if I have snot hanging out my nose. Hey, maybe there's a phobia for that too. Snotaphobia it should be called.
Don't laugh, I just found out my fear of moths is a real one: Mottephobia.
Sigh.
Do you ever wonder why you dream so often at night? And by dream I don't mean the dreaming you do when you're asleep, I'm referring to the conscious dreams and hopes you have, that fly through your head at night when funnily enough you should be relaxing in order to fall asleep. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I have an overly active imagination. Maybe it is true that with Neptune ruling my birth number, I am prone to vividly wild and colourful dreams and fantasies.
But things just seem to pop into my head at night, the most interesting and weirdest ideas, but also the most fantastic. The most recent thing I've decided, as a result from laying-in-bed-at-night dreaming, was to start writing books. It's an old idea, which has recently been re-born from a conversation shared with Hubbie about our aspirations in life. It suddenly occurred to me during this discussion with him, that I actually held no current motivations to pursue a higher position in my workplace. When I realised I was happy where I was, and had come as far as I'd wanted to, I had to wonder: Did I have any work-related aspirations left?
For so long I had wanted to be a part of this industry, and now that I'd achieved it, and I was part of a large organisation, I had no desire to move up.
So I thought. And thought. And I didn't have to think much longer until it hit me.
I pictured writing. Creating. Then I pictured writing AND bringing that to the screen.....
And just like that. It was there all along. I'd always loved writing. I gave up the pursuit into that area academically after Martin "bastard" Bashir's disgustingly discriminative and one-sided interview against Michael Jackson during my first years at uni. The fact that he was a journalist, put me off the idea of writing for a living (well that, and also most magazines are published in the adjoining state, and I didn't see myself moving there, or working for a newspaper firm here.)
So instead I had looked to film and television. I never even considered writing an actual book, as I didn't want any time spent on a profession that I believed would not give me many returns, a profession that would be hit-and-miss in terms of success and monetary rewards.
So I just forgot. Forgot about my love, forgot about my dreams. Yes, I was still pursuing one line of interest, in tv/film, but what had happened is that I went through a grown-up phase. It's a phase in which you decide to grow up too fast, be all responsible, and unfortunately in turn, let go of the one thing you do well. Really well.
Until just recently. I had my "life talk" with Hubbie, where he initially put the idea into my head, which was subsequently followed by my discussion with Red, waiting in line for the midnight screening of Eclipse. And since then I've had thoughts running through my mind a mile a minute. Story ideas, characters; all a follow-through on things I've thought before, started before, but never really had time to devote to. And the difference now you might ask? Well now I have the time. I can make the time after work hours. I can work, AND pursue a love of mine. Now, I'm living in ATS rather than BTS. After-The-Secret. I NOW know that there is an abundance of love, happiness, health, wealth and success, available for EVERYONE in this Universe. It's all there only if you believe in it.
And I truly, truly believe in it.
So I guess that brings me back to my prior point. About only dreaming at night, while lying in bed. I find myself imagining things, planning things, and half the time I don't even follow-through with them. It's so annoying. I put it down to time, but really it comes down to lack of motivation and determination. And I hate to admit to being lazy and slack, so trust me this isn't an easy feat. And obviously, my book comes into this. I have so many ideas, but I'm unable to organise everything in my head. Maybe that's the true reason. Because everything is so 'blah' in my head, I find myself lacking a bit of 'POW!' to actually start anything. But I will make that change I tell you!
So, have you ever wondered about shit films? Like, you know, really random, horribly produced, directed and acted movies? I find myself, every so often, after watching a really crap film, wondering who the bozo was to give the go-ahead on such an atrocity? I mean, when something goes straight to video, wouldn't it make sense to NOT let that same guy act/direct/produce again? In this case it's probably a case of money, and money doing the walking and the talking on the way to creating something resembling a film, but falling way far short of it.
So all these points combined, and I will write a freaking fantastic set of books. And it will be full of awesomeness and goodness and inspiredness. Hopefully not including any of those 3 words as it wouldn't get past the draft stage.
Oh yeah, and the getting it to the screen part? Well, I have another dream. And going by my industry contacts.... LOL. I'd love to see it on the screen. My ideas, born from my brain, for all to see, because I truly believe, they can be acted out in a tremendous way.
Yes I know I aim big. It's not my fault. I just dare to dream.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
It's the Thought that Counts
I had a weird dream last night. Yes, you may say, another odd dream, what's new? Especially given the content of my most recent blogs. But I guess the content made it weird, I just don't get it.
So in the dream, my cousin Legs, who is currently planning her own matrimonial mayhems, was there with her sister. We'll call her Hair, if we haven't already given her a name. Hair says to me in the dream, in front of her sister Legs, and in front of their listening Mum (intimidating much?!) "can Legs borrow your wedding dress for her wedding, she's finding it so hard to find her own."
The operative words in this sentence are borrow your wedding dress and my reaction in the dream, is as you'd expect, quite similar to one I'd have in real life.
Unhappy and sad. I want my wedding dress to remain as my wedding dress, not someone else's! If anything, if anyone could wear my wedding dress, it would be my daughter if that situation ever arose and she wanted to. I think I even thought that in my dream. Also, I felt pressured in the dream, especially in front of Legs and Hair's mum, which is why in my dream I reluctantly agreed, although it was almost like a "I don't think it will work" agreement which was construed by them as a "she's coming around."
So I ended up bringing out my wedding dress, and it looked different to what it is in real life, it had shades of brown on it or something. And then, thankfully, luckily, the dress didn't fit on her. And here's the weird part again: it wasn't Legs trying on my dress for her wedding, it was her sister, Hair, who isn't getting married.... hmmmm or is she? Hair had actually reverted to her childhood self in the part where she tried on my dress in the dream, which is even more trippy.
I've been too busy recovering from being sick lately that I can't even be bothered trying to work out this dream and what it could mean. However, the dream did remind me of some closure I could provide regarding another matter concerning Legs and her upcoming nuptials, in the form of bridesmaid-ery.......
Yes, the matter of Legs asking me to be bridesmaid whilst under the influence and being highly emotional, and then pretending it never happened. That hilariously ridiculous matter is what I am speaking of.
I saw her a few months ago I think, at a family gathering, and we got to talking about her wedding, her wedding plans, what she had organised, and all things wedding related. I love talking about all that, having been through it, but also I love being able to help others going through the same process, as I know there is so much involved, and so much to think of that you could easily miss.
I had never planned to outright ask her who her bridesmaids were; I didn't want to put her on the spot and make her feel bad, make her feel like she had to explain herself to me. But I did want to put her at ease, regarding wedding talk with me, and I can't deny, I was curious about who her bridesmaids were, especially if one of them was my other cousin Fake, and whether Fake had managed to worm her way into the bridal party.
I think in asking her about her bridesmaid dresses, that's when she told me; it was almost like she breathed in, mentally braced herself and allowed herself to speak, and then she told me - I think she was a little nervous.
So she revealed her 3: her sister Hair (no surprise there) her best friend (again, good choice), and then.......
our cousin......... our much younger 14 year old, very sweet cousin.
I smiled and said, very sincerely "you've made some really good bridesmaid choices." And I meant it. I think I also commented on the fact that it was good they were all young, stressing the young part, as Fake is the older cousin, who at that other party ages ago, was pathetically trying to include herself in the bridal party without invitation.
So it is all good. I let her know she made a good choice with her selections, because honestly, I don't want her to feel weird about what happened, the invite, the unofficial un-invite and what-not. I'm happy for her. And I'm just happy knowing what I know: in her moment of not-thinking, of being relaxed, giddy and happy in her time of celebration, with no hesitation and totally uninhibited, she turned to me and said:
"Miss S, I want you to be my bridesmaid."
And that is enough. :)
So in the dream, my cousin Legs, who is currently planning her own matrimonial mayhems, was there with her sister. We'll call her Hair, if we haven't already given her a name. Hair says to me in the dream, in front of her sister Legs, and in front of their listening Mum (intimidating much?!) "can Legs borrow your wedding dress for her wedding, she's finding it so hard to find her own."
The operative words in this sentence are borrow your wedding dress and my reaction in the dream, is as you'd expect, quite similar to one I'd have in real life.
Unhappy and sad. I want my wedding dress to remain as my wedding dress, not someone else's! If anything, if anyone could wear my wedding dress, it would be my daughter if that situation ever arose and she wanted to. I think I even thought that in my dream. Also, I felt pressured in the dream, especially in front of Legs and Hair's mum, which is why in my dream I reluctantly agreed, although it was almost like a "I don't think it will work" agreement which was construed by them as a "she's coming around."
So I ended up bringing out my wedding dress, and it looked different to what it is in real life, it had shades of brown on it or something. And then, thankfully, luckily, the dress didn't fit on her. And here's the weird part again: it wasn't Legs trying on my dress for her wedding, it was her sister, Hair, who isn't getting married.... hmmmm or is she? Hair had actually reverted to her childhood self in the part where she tried on my dress in the dream, which is even more trippy.
I've been too busy recovering from being sick lately that I can't even be bothered trying to work out this dream and what it could mean. However, the dream did remind me of some closure I could provide regarding another matter concerning Legs and her upcoming nuptials, in the form of bridesmaid-ery.......
Yes, the matter of Legs asking me to be bridesmaid whilst under the influence and being highly emotional, and then pretending it never happened. That hilariously ridiculous matter is what I am speaking of.
I saw her a few months ago I think, at a family gathering, and we got to talking about her wedding, her wedding plans, what she had organised, and all things wedding related. I love talking about all that, having been through it, but also I love being able to help others going through the same process, as I know there is so much involved, and so much to think of that you could easily miss.
I had never planned to outright ask her who her bridesmaids were; I didn't want to put her on the spot and make her feel bad, make her feel like she had to explain herself to me. But I did want to put her at ease, regarding wedding talk with me, and I can't deny, I was curious about who her bridesmaids were, especially if one of them was my other cousin Fake, and whether Fake had managed to worm her way into the bridal party.
I think in asking her about her bridesmaid dresses, that's when she told me; it was almost like she breathed in, mentally braced herself and allowed herself to speak, and then she told me - I think she was a little nervous.
So she revealed her 3: her sister Hair (no surprise there) her best friend (again, good choice), and then.......
our cousin......... our much younger 14 year old, very sweet cousin.
I smiled and said, very sincerely "you've made some really good bridesmaid choices." And I meant it. I think I also commented on the fact that it was good they were all young, stressing the young part, as Fake is the older cousin, who at that other party ages ago, was pathetically trying to include herself in the bridal party without invitation.
So it is all good. I let her know she made a good choice with her selections, because honestly, I don't want her to feel weird about what happened, the invite, the unofficial un-invite and what-not. I'm happy for her. And I'm just happy knowing what I know: in her moment of not-thinking, of being relaxed, giddy and happy in her time of celebration, with no hesitation and totally uninhibited, she turned to me and said:
"Miss S, I want you to be my bridesmaid."
And that is enough. :)
Thursday, June 10, 2010
My Weird Dream
Two nights ago I had this weird dream. Weird not because of what I dreamt, I think it was more weird due to the emphasis of what happened, particularly since it wasn't something extraordinary that happened in the dream.
In my dream, which I think involved high school themes, (as in people from high school, the buildings at the school, etc, it's all quite a blur as dreams usually are) I could see myself. Not like seeing myself in an out-of-body context, but you know where you can see yourself doing things in your dream? Yeah like that. Only I actually saw myself, peering around the corner at myself. Yes weird number one, me looking at me.
There was also someone there, or more than one person there I'm not too sure, but it was someone from my high school days, that's the vibe I got. I think perhaps two dreams got mixed up there. (!) And as my sneaky self watched around the corner at my unaware self, my unaware self, just dressed in casual clothes, with my hair tied up in a ponytail, started to sneeze.
Once, twice, three times.
And not a little 'achoo.' These sneezes were with feeling. They were big, grand, and each one was a bit stronger than the last. I remember the last one quite clearly. As I breathed in deeply, I sneezed for the third time, and after it I exhaled, heavily, like that sneeze had taken every bit of emotion and energy out of me. I almost looked tired.
And that was it.
So can you see why I find it weird?
I like to analyse dreams, and try to work out my own in the process. I guess growing up, and listening to my parents tell stories from their childhood, has heavily influenced me. They grew up in a decade, country and time where people heavily spoke of "things" happening. There were ghost stories, only they weren't just made up fables to keep the kids from being too curious and adventurous, designed to keep them indoors and out of trouble. No, the stories they spoke of were of events that had happened, either to them, or someone they knew.
I know what you're thinking, and no, they're not urban legends, as familiar as the line "it happened to my mum's father..." sounds. I know this for sure, even though I haven't lived through it myself. My parents are not the sort to deliberately frighten you, and so the fact that they even told these stories, means there is some meaning to them. In fact, if as a child I had said, in response to one of these tales, "I'm scared to sleep now," instead of saying, "it was only a story," I would get a response like, "just don't think about it, that was then."
Just that thought alone makes me more confident in everything I've ever heard. I don't know why I don't hear stories of things like that happening nowadays, but part of me thinks, in line with The Secret, that the more you talk about a certain thing and believe in it, the more that thing will come to you. As people don't talk much about superstition nowadays, especially compared to let's say a century ago, I think these incidences don't occur as often. And when they do, in the new millenium of technology, they are ignored or not spoken of.
I might have even myself wondered whether or not my grandparents made up stories to scare my mum and dad when they were kids. But the fact that some of these stories actually come from my parents' experiences directly, supports my faith in them.
What are these "things" you may ask? Incidences involving a whole lot of spooky stuff, to sum it up. Lots of superstition, dark "things," black cats, and spirits, influenced quite heavily by religion. By this I mean that any sort of blasphemy or disrespect towards God brought about heavy penalties, in the form of weird things happening to the offender.
Along with these superstitions and stories, dreams were also looked at and analysed in the process, in order to gain an insight into why things happened, and what could happen in the future. When I think of some of the dreams I've heard, some of them so literal to the point that death in the dream actually resulted in death and life meant life, well, there's really no way to deny or ignore the truth. Although some dreams are literal, and other more of a metaphor to summarise something happening in your life, or something about to happen, I think it's hard to say there is no meaning.
And so, in coming back to my dream, it's because of all this that I take such interest in analysing them. My immediate thought, in thinking of my dream, was that it was such an ordinary event, but as I said, the emphasis on the ordinary, MADE it that much more interesting.
Firstly the sneeze. I thought "that's good." Good, because I saw it as an expression, something good coming out. I thought of what sneezes mean, and by that I don't mean that you have an itch in your nose and you get an urge to sneeze, I mean that with my parents, we have a common belief that if you or someone else is talking and one of you sneezes, what had been recently spoken of was true. Yes, a belief from the old school days. Every time we're talking and someone sneezes, my mum will say in her native tongue, "truth." So naturally, "truth" came to my mind when I started analysing.
I was at work when my dream came back to me, so I started looking up online dream dictionaries. I was curious about what some of the meanings of sneezing in your dream would mean.
One of the first web sites I came across defined this as something happy and joyful happening in my life. So that matched with my first assumption of what it meant.
But as I continued to search, not content with just the one definition, I started to look at my dream more deeply.
I thought of the fact that my hair was up - that was the first huge indicator for me. Hair generally means problems, so the fact that it was tied up and out of my way, suggested to me that some problems were going to be out of the way. And the hair being up, IS significant, as my everyday preference is wearing it down.
Secondly, I thought of the way in how I sneezed. It was with a lot of energy. The sneezing could represent a release of some kind, something from within me coming out. So that coupled with the emotion I did it with, I started to look at my dream from the perspective that some problem in my life, was going to go away. Something negative presently, was going to come out.
And yes, almost every other sneezing definition I found was also supporting that theory. All web sites pointed to sneezing being a metaphor for something being released, a negative something or someone leaving your life. A great web site I found in the midst of all this searching was sleeps.com. It made a lot of sense, and confirmed some dream-related queries I'd had for a while. Ever had a dream, look up the symbology in it and walk away wondering, "hmm, I don't know that I'm going to be starting another line of studying, but hey if the dream definition says so....." and the definition is just so not compatible with your current life, that you have to wonder? Well I raise my hand here. This site, and many others, were based around the central idea that you cannot reduce a dream you have to a single symbol, and you cannot go to a dictionary to find that symbol meaning, and expect it to relate to you. All dreams are subjective. A sneeze may mean release for me, but sickness to someone who has been sneezing lately. A range of things need to be looked at in order to analyse a dream, such as what the things in your dream mean to you, just in general, the word associations connected with your dream symbology, and a range of other things. A dream dictionary should only really be referred to if you have absolutely no association with something you dream of, if there is something you are especially neutral to.
Which makes absolute perfect sense. It's all about analysing the dream, and seeing what it means for you.
So in the end? I've come to the conclusion that given my every day association with sneezing, my dream symbology of hair, the emotion displayed in the dream, added with some of the definitions I found here and there on the web, that something negative, whether it be person or thing, will be released from my life soon. Which is great! I think this will bring out a lot of emotion, (hence the release from my sneeze) and the problem will be behind me once it is all over (the hair tied up).
There is A person in my life at the moment, who I am not particularly fond of. However this person is in the family, and so I don't know if they could really be put behind me forever. That is just not possible. However, perhaps my issue with them will be resolved. OR I may just give them a piece of my mind, and the WHOLE truth will come out. Now that's just scary.
I'll keep you informed if something happens. In the meantime, keep on dreamin'.
In my dream, which I think involved high school themes, (as in people from high school, the buildings at the school, etc, it's all quite a blur as dreams usually are) I could see myself. Not like seeing myself in an out-of-body context, but you know where you can see yourself doing things in your dream? Yeah like that. Only I actually saw myself, peering around the corner at myself. Yes weird number one, me looking at me.
There was also someone there, or more than one person there I'm not too sure, but it was someone from my high school days, that's the vibe I got. I think perhaps two dreams got mixed up there. (!) And as my sneaky self watched around the corner at my unaware self, my unaware self, just dressed in casual clothes, with my hair tied up in a ponytail, started to sneeze.
Once, twice, three times.
And not a little 'achoo.' These sneezes were with feeling. They were big, grand, and each one was a bit stronger than the last. I remember the last one quite clearly. As I breathed in deeply, I sneezed for the third time, and after it I exhaled, heavily, like that sneeze had taken every bit of emotion and energy out of me. I almost looked tired.
And that was it.
So can you see why I find it weird?
I like to analyse dreams, and try to work out my own in the process. I guess growing up, and listening to my parents tell stories from their childhood, has heavily influenced me. They grew up in a decade, country and time where people heavily spoke of "things" happening. There were ghost stories, only they weren't just made up fables to keep the kids from being too curious and adventurous, designed to keep them indoors and out of trouble. No, the stories they spoke of were of events that had happened, either to them, or someone they knew.
I know what you're thinking, and no, they're not urban legends, as familiar as the line "it happened to my mum's father..." sounds. I know this for sure, even though I haven't lived through it myself. My parents are not the sort to deliberately frighten you, and so the fact that they even told these stories, means there is some meaning to them. In fact, if as a child I had said, in response to one of these tales, "I'm scared to sleep now," instead of saying, "it was only a story," I would get a response like, "just don't think about it, that was then."
Just that thought alone makes me more confident in everything I've ever heard. I don't know why I don't hear stories of things like that happening nowadays, but part of me thinks, in line with The Secret, that the more you talk about a certain thing and believe in it, the more that thing will come to you. As people don't talk much about superstition nowadays, especially compared to let's say a century ago, I think these incidences don't occur as often. And when they do, in the new millenium of technology, they are ignored or not spoken of.
I might have even myself wondered whether or not my grandparents made up stories to scare my mum and dad when they were kids. But the fact that some of these stories actually come from my parents' experiences directly, supports my faith in them.
What are these "things" you may ask? Incidences involving a whole lot of spooky stuff, to sum it up. Lots of superstition, dark "things," black cats, and spirits, influenced quite heavily by religion. By this I mean that any sort of blasphemy or disrespect towards God brought about heavy penalties, in the form of weird things happening to the offender.
Along with these superstitions and stories, dreams were also looked at and analysed in the process, in order to gain an insight into why things happened, and what could happen in the future. When I think of some of the dreams I've heard, some of them so literal to the point that death in the dream actually resulted in death and life meant life, well, there's really no way to deny or ignore the truth. Although some dreams are literal, and other more of a metaphor to summarise something happening in your life, or something about to happen, I think it's hard to say there is no meaning.
And so, in coming back to my dream, it's because of all this that I take such interest in analysing them. My immediate thought, in thinking of my dream, was that it was such an ordinary event, but as I said, the emphasis on the ordinary, MADE it that much more interesting.
Firstly the sneeze. I thought "that's good." Good, because I saw it as an expression, something good coming out. I thought of what sneezes mean, and by that I don't mean that you have an itch in your nose and you get an urge to sneeze, I mean that with my parents, we have a common belief that if you or someone else is talking and one of you sneezes, what had been recently spoken of was true. Yes, a belief from the old school days. Every time we're talking and someone sneezes, my mum will say in her native tongue, "truth." So naturally, "truth" came to my mind when I started analysing.
I was at work when my dream came back to me, so I started looking up online dream dictionaries. I was curious about what some of the meanings of sneezing in your dream would mean.
One of the first web sites I came across defined this as something happy and joyful happening in my life. So that matched with my first assumption of what it meant.
But as I continued to search, not content with just the one definition, I started to look at my dream more deeply.
I thought of the fact that my hair was up - that was the first huge indicator for me. Hair generally means problems, so the fact that it was tied up and out of my way, suggested to me that some problems were going to be out of the way. And the hair being up, IS significant, as my everyday preference is wearing it down.
Secondly, I thought of the way in how I sneezed. It was with a lot of energy. The sneezing could represent a release of some kind, something from within me coming out. So that coupled with the emotion I did it with, I started to look at my dream from the perspective that some problem in my life, was going to go away. Something negative presently, was going to come out.
And yes, almost every other sneezing definition I found was also supporting that theory. All web sites pointed to sneezing being a metaphor for something being released, a negative something or someone leaving your life. A great web site I found in the midst of all this searching was sleeps.com. It made a lot of sense, and confirmed some dream-related queries I'd had for a while. Ever had a dream, look up the symbology in it and walk away wondering, "hmm, I don't know that I'm going to be starting another line of studying, but hey if the dream definition says so....." and the definition is just so not compatible with your current life, that you have to wonder? Well I raise my hand here. This site, and many others, were based around the central idea that you cannot reduce a dream you have to a single symbol, and you cannot go to a dictionary to find that symbol meaning, and expect it to relate to you. All dreams are subjective. A sneeze may mean release for me, but sickness to someone who has been sneezing lately. A range of things need to be looked at in order to analyse a dream, such as what the things in your dream mean to you, just in general, the word associations connected with your dream symbology, and a range of other things. A dream dictionary should only really be referred to if you have absolutely no association with something you dream of, if there is something you are especially neutral to.
Which makes absolute perfect sense. It's all about analysing the dream, and seeing what it means for you.
So in the end? I've come to the conclusion that given my every day association with sneezing, my dream symbology of hair, the emotion displayed in the dream, added with some of the definitions I found here and there on the web, that something negative, whether it be person or thing, will be released from my life soon. Which is great! I think this will bring out a lot of emotion, (hence the release from my sneeze) and the problem will be behind me once it is all over (the hair tied up).
There is A person in my life at the moment, who I am not particularly fond of. However this person is in the family, and so I don't know if they could really be put behind me forever. That is just not possible. However, perhaps my issue with them will be resolved. OR I may just give them a piece of my mind, and the WHOLE truth will come out. Now that's just scary.
I'll keep you informed if something happens. In the meantime, keep on dreamin'.
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