Dreams Are Weird

I haven’t seen my stepsister in years, yet she was in dreams two nights in a row.  Night before last, there was a mishmash of stuff that included one of my father’s houses, the dream version of it, which in the dream she’d ended up buying.  Last night’s dreams included a scene in which I was telling my stepsister about the dream I’d had the night before.  Very meta, self-referential, or whatever you want to call it.

The seemingly lengthy end part of the dreams last night involved being somewhere to the north, like NH, ME or VT - the highway I drove down was a generic stretch of what looks like northern New England highway that seems to recycle in dreams where it’s needed - and there being a giant snow storm.  I needed to get home, apparently for work, and was trying and trying to get through it, leaving when I shouldn’t have, getting in shoveling scenarios, trying to bash through a snowbank a few feet taller than the car, that sort of thing.  Eventually I gave up and stayed in a motel, though even that was a matter of getting a room, then continuing to try to flee.

In the motel, which seemed to double as one of those side of the highway tourist rest stops and the offices of some business (for that matter, in part it looked like a miniature section of some airport terminal, in rustic), there was the challenge of getting something to eat.  People were strangely open, but not open, at a lunch counter and small store.  I found my way into the dining area, where someone had just been served a sandwich, but most people were just hanging out, and was told they would be serving starting at a specific time.  An odd time, though I forget when.  It was at the motel where I ran into my stepsister, as I recall.

Fast forward and I am driving down the highway in the morning, bright, sunny, and not a speck of snow, immediately south of where I had stayed.  I was fuming at having had to spend the money and time to stay over.  I was also alone, but then I wasn’t, because Deb and a kid, presumably Sadie as a baby, were with me.  This would fit with the blizzard when we had to stay an extra night at the Park Plaza for Arisia, when Sadie was less than 4 months old.  On the way, we discussed the state of the credit cards, and which one I’d used for the stay, and how it sucked to have needed to do that because we so couldn’t afford the $40.

Next thing I know, pressed for time, I was driving straight to work with family in tow, which is odd in that we’d gotten almost home when I got onto the highway going north from here.  In reality, I’d have had to pass work on the way there, then changed my mind and not spent an extra 10 minutes dropping them home.  Then there was a bit of fuss about where Deb and the kid would hang out at the office, which was a cross between my former large client, a larger business, and the motel I’d stayed at in the dream.

That was about it.  I woke up, amused at the whole thing, and started coffee brewing.  I certainly hope we don’t get any snow, and that dreaming about my stepsister has no prescient bad significance.  However, this wasn’t like one of those “dreams that happen” dreams, or like when I flashed “this could be the last time I talk to her” out of the blue and sat to converse with my grandmother at length less than 36 hours before she died.

Being Friday and not having had it early enough to mail it, I have to make arrangements to drop money to the landlord.  We may look like we’re sitting around watching soaps and playing with the kids, but each week we have to come up with $250 or $300 toward rent to defer eviction proceedings.  The drop-ins by people who are bringing food donations and don’t care what the house looks like at any random time are welcome but are still disruptions.  Visits that are just visits on a couple hours notice tend to get “well, this is really a bad day” pretty uniformly.  Friday is especially bad with the actual rent delivery, but today I need to make a post office run - a small contribution to our finances a couple weeks hence because someone bought a book, I need to go to Wal-Mart and figure out how to stretch $30 beyond all recognition - including a couple bucks for yarn for a custom order to help our finances in a week or two, stop at my mother’s for a special crib mattress cover a cousin got us for Henry not to be allergic to the crib anymore (she’s allergic to everything herself, apparently), reply to the person who is offering temp work that’ll be great if the interview Monday doesn’t work out, figure out whether I need $8 or $16 for the train Monday and walking directions from South Station to my destination, help unbury and select clothes sealed in the leaky closet for the winter, continue my office organizing project, make banana bread, figure out what’s for supper and start it ahead of time if needed, and probably some things I’ve forgotten.  Like e-mailing someone who might want me to do a computer cleanup Sunday, or Monday evening, and might have others who could use that, if she’s recovered enough from surgery.  A few of those and it’s close to another rent week.

And I still haven’t worked on the giant “we’re back” fundraiser edition of Carnival of the Capitalists, but I should, because that could contribute to groceries or to the rent on the 11th.  Or gas for the truck, because even if you take six weeks to use a tank, eventually you need more.

And with that, off I go, because the day is getting no younger.

Posted by on 03/28 at 12:20 PM

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