Last Night's Dream

An hour ago I woke from a dream where I was being pursued by car by Sweeney Todd. He was behind me in his cruella deville/bat-mobile-ish thing and wanted me to drive a certain direction. I was lonely and feeling worthless at the time (I was 16) and considered following him.

It was wintery, the sky was ominous (I know how to set the mood even in my dreams apparently) and our car hoods were covered in about an inch of snow. Somehow, as only characters can, he reached his arm out of his driver's side car window (while driving) and with a hand long enough to write in the snow on the hood of his car he began carving out letters, a message on where he wanted me to go.

How smart of him seeing as how I was in the lead with my car. I watched him etch in my rearview mirror. I felt competing desires. He was the higgest bidder. Someone really wanted me. And yet I knew he wasn't eventually going to lead me to good things--though I don't think in the dream I necessarily thought or knew he wanted to kill me.

I couldn't decide what to do. I didn't have hope for what tomorrow held anyway but I kept my gaze forward, and drove judiciously hoping he'd believe I hadn't seen him behind me or his letters. He quickly, almost magically, sped in front of me (as only possible in dreams) and all-at-once there was a stretch of skinny tire tracks in the snow ahead of my car. He was moving fast. I stared at the greyish tracks in the white snow and wondered whether to follow. It was clear he was intent on reeling me in, only me, in that moment.

Someone wanted me. Really wanted me. Did I care what he wanted with me?

There's a little more to the dream, which weaves in actual people and places from my history... But in interest of time, and appropriateness of this forum, I'll be selective with details...

I am undecided on the place of dreams in the Christian life. However, I an confortable to ponder it a bit. Of course the obvious question I might have would be... Am I, or have I ever been so lonely or felt so worthless than I would follow an evil man? I haven't seen the 'Sweeney Todd movie' mind you, but I've read the synopsis and know the storyline.

I know in that time of my life (15-18) I didn't understand why people wanted to live long lives. I remember when I was 18/19 when on shopping trips where perhaps the opportunity came up to buy pretty comforter or 'invest' in little piece of furniture for my room (I still lived with my parents for various reasons I wasn't thrilled with) and I hated the sense of commitment, of fear, of unrelatability that came with the idea of buying things that you expected to be permanent fixtures in your life. I didn't like anything that required me to think 5 years out for that matter. I liked stuff, but not anything with a sense of commitment to it. A T-shirt? No commitment. A CD? No commitment, you just use it. A desk? A bedspread? A lamp? They represented 'settling down' and I certainly wasn't anywhere near settled.

In my dream Sweeney Todd represented a specific man in my life. That's not me interpretting the dream, that was sorta known in the dream as in the first half of it he appeared as he did, in flesh, back then. And the 'stage/geography' in the dream was where he and I usually saw each other. The dream began with this man being busy talking to other people, as sometimes he was back then. He was social, networked, and he knew I'd wait.

I was waiting for that man... And he knew it. It apparently worked for both of us. My patience turned to anger. I wanted to go and I was angry at having to wait for my ride out of there. I'd ridden with my parents who were also there and they too were talking, and talking, to someone or someones. At this point I wasn't so much thinking about that man (he'd faded out of the scene in that moment) but about how angry I was at my parents for not caring that I had been sitting for 90 minutes waiting for them. I was captive. Note: I didn't get my license until I was 17. So in the dream I wasn't allowed to drive, but somehow I must've hijacked my parents car, although this was skipped over in the 'story.'

In pondering my following Sweeney, I am thinking about this: what if my subconscience was (in the dream and in real life?) choosing between a) being with people who I felt abused and ignored me, maybe did or didn't love me or, b) with someone who I knew didn't love me, but really really wanted me and heck, I hadn't been planning on living a long life anyway..... I didn't know how to have hope for the future.

Did I just venture over into dream interpretation? I'm not sure... But, this dream was such a strange combination of the really unusual, and the really real, that I couldn't chalk it up to meaningless REM sleep induced entertainment without a little rumination first.

Jeans never tasted so sweet

I wonder if you, like me, can remember mornings in your childhood where all you could think about was getting dressed. Maybe there was a special outfit. Or maybe getting dressed was the last 'task' standing in between you and somewhere awesome you couldn't wait to go.

I can bring back a few memories of little me getting ready in the morning. The night before the first day of school for 1st grade. I set out my light blue top and blue pants with tiny pink dots and white high top shoes. I remember laying the shirt above the pants flat on the floor and sitting still for awhile envisioning myself in that outfit. My attachment to those hand-me-down items was palpable. I was happy.

I can also remember at a young age learning the lessons around color matching. I can still remember my purple sweater with red hearts. I know every girl, of all ages, who passed through the '80's had something red and purple, and probably geometry came into the equasion too which shapes being the rage then.

But not suprisingly, at that age I had no clue thousands of people owned purple sweaters with red hearts. Mine was special. Mine was lovely. And I wanted to wear it all the time. I recall one day my mom having to explain to me that I couldn't wear my favorite skirt with my favorite top. 'I get that you love them both alot, but they aren't for wearing on the same day...' was the message.

The details around the skirt are a little fuzzy. I'm thinking it was pastel, maybe striped, I don't know for sure but I do remember it beginning to sink in that it the two pieces maybe weren't the best mates...

This morning I woke up excited to get ready. In a rush to get dressed you could say. Not because I am headed to Disneyland or because I bought a great new wardrobe item. In fact it's 6am on a Saturday and I would rather not be awake and heading to a dr appointment, but those are the facts.

The last few months have brought with them arduous battles of bulges. Yes, plural. I've honestly been living in yoga-ish clothing (though make no mistake I hate yoga) as it has been the only items in my wardrobe that have fit. The idea of having 10 out of 500 pieces of clothing that fit may sound concerning to you. And you may have noticed I haven't worn jeans or anything beyond a tank top or man sized t-shirt of late. And while it's been hot and sweaty here in Washington, that isn't the reason for the simple, reduced attire.

I haven't gotten obese. I realize that. But, my wardrobe unfortunately was filled with alot of items that simply had no flex room. Anyone who's fluxuated in size knows that there are certain weights or sizes that bring with them tighter clothing that just frankly have little flexibility.

And so my wardrobe would not forgive the 10 or 15 pounds I'd added. I had been flucuating, losing 5lbs and then gaining them--and then awhile back it just kept creepin up. Ya know, one step forward (a good workout and healthy dinner) and two steps back (that 4th meal from taco bell at 9pm after a full dinner) and before you know it I was banished from anything except my 'sloppy wear.'

I've been working out hard lately. And not giving in to the munchies. On vacation I had access to a gym and lots of free time on my hands so my workouts were extended and consistent. And since returning last week I've been building on that progress and the weeks before.

At some point in the last 3 months inevitably there was a day where I wanted to wear my jeans and sadly, trying to do so brought bad news. And I did try a few times after but those attempts served as a wake up call that it was more than just an lb or 2 that stood in my way.

Mind you, we are NOT talking about 'skinny jeans' (which is a term I don't care for, btw) we ARE talking about my 'everyday jeans' - which might help you vicariously feel the sting of dissapointment I lived with having my 'normal' duds out of the 'working zone'....

Anyway, as I ran my hands around my midsection in the past few days (which I do often, multiple times daily) to take stock of how much extra is there, I felt progress. The tire is deflating if you will. And yesterday I decided that today would be the day that I would retrieve the jeans and learn the truth of whether they were ready to have me back.

I am wearing said jeans as I write. That's the good news. The really good news. The bad news? Well, they are a bit tight. True, they are tight jeans, which is why this whole problem surfaced to begin with, but today they're really tight. But I can fasten them! And I can get away with wearing them. And I am stoked. Just a few more days. Probably by next weekend they'll fit like they used to.

I'm thinking I may put up with the inevitable marks around my mid-section which I will no doubt have by noon today, just because I am that ready to go out into public in something other than gym-ish materials.

I suppose the upswing to being headed to a dr appointment which will involve disrobing is that by the time I get there, today I may want to take my clothes off.