RobinWrites!

It was one of those nights...

So it's mid-winter,  been dreary gray for a week that feels like forever, the bills have been stacked and re-stacked, sorted and re-sorted, the business that feels so promising ain't generating squat, and all the education, talent and passion in the world isn't coming close to filling ye old bank account.....

With heart and mind in stress-shreds, my head hits the pillow.  I semi-sleep in between flips and dream fragments, when suddenly I come to in my bed in my room - I think? Is my husband next to me? - check. All the windows, doors, furniture as I know it to be? - check. Still hazy, but certain of my locale, my attention is immediately drawn to - flash.......flash........a fuzzy pink circle of light flashing on the wall to my right. Wait - that's where the mirror is - is it a reflection? or is it coming from behind? Hard to tell since I'm not wearing my glasses.

And now I'm remembering...kind of dream-embering something.... something that came in that blip of dream just before -- didn't someone tell me I'd see this? And they told me just what to do ---- oh dear, what WAS it? It said it would flash five (? was it five? I think it was five) times - (oh no! how many times has it flashed?! I know I saw two, but what if I missed some?)  - and there it is again, that makes three -- this is so weird..... let's see - remember, remember - it said there would be a sound (what sound was it?) and just then a desperate howling begins outside and a few night birds "who-who" and squawk in an eerie chorus. The hair on my wrists stands straight up from the goose pimples running my arm span - remember..... remember..... (ugh, I don't remember!)... I'm supposed to do something?? what IS it? Read something, yes - but what? I can't even see without my glasses - and it's dark ....

What just took me 12 minutes to recount in writing actually all occurred in a moment (ok, maybe two moments). My familiar bed and room now had an aura of doom, a presence of evil. I'd somehow brought someone or something mysterious but clearly BAD through the portal of sleep to mess with me here - (or might it be the other way round? Maybe I took the dooms of the day into dreamland - ruining what might otherwise have been a dreamscape of golden fields and blue skies?) The only way, it seems, that I might un-do what I've done is to REMEMBER what it is I was told to do when this happened and do it, but is it already too late? Don't give up, remember, remember ......ahhhh, I'm supposed to read the writing on the wall. As if on a mission, I reach for the nightstand, put on my glasses, switch on the light, stare at the wall - the one with the mirror, waiting to see a map or message of some kind magically appear - taken off-guard now to be really and truly, all the way awake, sitting up in bed, the bright startling light erasing all evidence of fuzzy pink flashes .... HUH??!?

Turn it off, turn it off –what if I now missed the 5^th (and final?) flash?! – what if I disrupted the grand scheme of whatever I’m to do? Misery upon misery, what if I failed this quest? Oh, what was it they said would happen if I did not do as instructed? Shudder, sigh. All I know is it wasn't good. And, damn - I'm awake - this isn't even a half-way dream now, this is MY LIFE -- oh yeah, the gray day life full of incomplete projects and negative balances.

What to do when you don't want to be awake, don't want to think any of your thoughts, don't want to be HERE in this freaky place, but have no intention of leaving the seeming security of the cool sheet and heavy comforter --- AND you're afraid to go back to sleep? Wake someone else up into it, of course! And the person of choice just so happened to be making the sound of a chainsaw-in-heat right next to me.

Shake and whisper, “Hey honey, wake up?”

Loud, stinky night breath, exhale…..chain-saw inhale.

“Honey? Hello?  Please wake up!” Daytime volume with sense of urgency. Shaking his snoozing chin back and forth in my hands.

He rolls over and away, pulls the cover up, rhythmic snores uninterrupted.

Shoving and pummeling him now, voice on the verge, “You have to wake up! There’s something BAD going on in our house! Wake Up, up up!” I kick his shins and knee him in the hip, “Grrrrrrrrr – wake UUUUUPPPPP!!!”

His eyes roll partway up, like window blinds, and his eyeballs lower slowly into the slit. I peer into the open place, willing those pupils to SEE me, daring those lids to close on me again, holding my breath against the night odor, as I move my head closer and closer, till we nearly rub noses – I inhale, getting ready to tell my tale, and --- what do you know? The lids lower and, in rote unconsciousness, he buries his head under not one, but two pillows, and continues to sleep.

Ok, guess I’m on my own. Now what if there really were some robber who broke in? Let’s obsess about that a bit….

I call in angels and say prayers, surround myself with light and eventually sleep....only to be dreamatically re-summoned to wake state with an intense sense of urgency. Once again, I verify my locale – hubby, windows, furniture – check, check, check. This time, mega-alert for a sound. Last time, it was flashing light, this time, I’ve been instructed (couldn’t say by who or how, just know) to listen. Ears and all senses perked in anticipation (with a slight twinge of doubt) - and then --- KA-PLOOM, KA-PLOWie! POP POP! BANG – what, huh? Freaking fireworks? That – BLANG BOOM BAM – definitely sounds like fire – POP BLAST BLOOM- works! Revisit my reality, pinch myself – check, it hurts (ow) – phone where I left it on its charger tells me it’s  3:30 am.  What the heck? KER-BOOM, BANG! POP! PLOWIE!  Ok, sorry Mr. Deep Sleep Man, this time you ARE GOING TO WAKE UP! Other consciousness is not an option!

Bop him on the head with the pillow, once, twice, three times. Shake shake – “Wake Up, wake up, WAKE up, WAKE UP – YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP NOW!”

Jiggle, tickle, shove.  

BOOM! POP! Ping ping ping – Ka-Blam!

“DO YOU HEAR THAT?! Fireworks! Those are fireworks! Wake up and hear the fireworks! I NEED YOU! WAKE UP!”

He rouses a level or two, eyes open, staring out the big window, equally baffled by the random chorus of firecrackers. They go on for I-don’t-know-how-long. We lie and listen, stunned. When it finally ends, I’m on auditory buzz, bound and determined to get some night comfort from my soulmate.

Story in blips: “So, there was this flashing light….and a message…. and howling, who-ing…. Freaking out….. something bad… so scared… tried to wake you….snore snore…. back to sleep… wake…. fireworks… you heard them, too, right?”

Affimative nod. Shew – good, I’m not crazy. But then? THEN he says,  "Well, do you think maybe, whatever it is, just wants you to write a newsletter for COPS?” And the snoring begins again.

What is going on? I need to pee, but convinced the childhood evil-pirate-man might lie in wait under the bed, there is no way I’m getting up now. In-between prayers, I systematically relax my muscles, beginning with big toes.  Somewhere between shoulders and neck, I fall back into the mysterious dark dream…. the dream that ultimately wakes me to my own voice screaming, my own hands frantically grabbing for and shaking my husband…. my own husband finally all the way awake, preparing to jump out of bed and beat up who-or-what-ever is traumatizing his wife. The intensity of waking completely erases the dream that preceded it; I have no idea what happened. He holds me. He listens.  I listen to my own disjointed tale, more agitated and confused than ever....

I'll be back to process & ponder, but in the meantime..... Have you ever had one of those nights?

Ponder & Process: Reunion

She knew one thing embarking on the year 2009 - come August, her graduating class would celebrate its 25 year reunion.

What she didn't know (for certain) was whether or not she would attend. She wasn't so sure high school connections were something she was much interested in kindling. Still, although her class of 1984 had not regularly reunioned, she had managed to consistently attend the every-5-year reunion for the class of 1982. In fact, their 20th reunion marked a turning point of her life, in that she attended it with her 1st husband, during a rocky (if yet hopeful) time in their marriage. Five years later, she attended the same class's 25 reunion with her second husband. Two husbands, both graduated from the same school the same year. Talk about awkward. If she survived THAT... (and natural childbirth...and running two marathons), then by God, she could do this!

Being a writer, she thought this whole reunion setting fiasco might just make a compelling setting for her novel or screenplay. She learned and changed a lot during those 5 years -- and the drama? - ha ha ha <evil laugh> -- while it sucked to live through it, there was no denying that it could definitely entertain a crowd....

And so, with her writer/storyteller mission at hand, the debating about whether to go or not go seemed pretty laughable. The writer must go where the story can unfold -- and she must pay attention.

A choice clearly made has an opportunity to begin changing things.... From the time she sent her check in, put her name on the "Attending" List, classmates from 1984 began appearing everywhere - in dreams and email, in grocery stores and coffee shops -- but most auspiciously, on the one and only Facebook. Whoa. Suddenly, all those folks who seemed so daunting in the highschool hallways years ago were Facebook "Friends." Months before the event itself, she was catching up with photos and memories, learning who lived where, who married who, who divorced who, who was doing what.... She LOVED this finger-on-the-keyboard tapping into the safe end of reuniting. Truly, Facebook added an element of connection that eased anxiety and upped anticipation for something as traumatic as a 25 year HS Reunion.

The reunion weekend itself was a high energy blur of recognizing, remembering, and re-connecting. She recognized how much she had changed and grown; she remembered how frightened and intimidated she used to feel in the presence of these very people - in the presence of ALL people - and was so pleased to have an experience where that fear didn't have all her attention - instead, she could attend to the amazing gathering of very real people with whom she had survived adolescence. She re-connected deeply with some that, if not for the event and her willingness to be there, she may never have truly known again.....

 


 

And, that is the serious-side, the teasing up the lessons of the year angle, the ponderings and processings of one chick who mustered up the guts to revisit the people of her past.... One day, she may just surprise us all with a witty comedic glimpse into those other reunions and the life that happens in-between.....

Ponder & Process: Patience

Pondering and processing are favorite activities of mine - probably to a fault. But, hey, tis the season, right? We can make all the resolutions and set as many goals as we want, but I have to think that such practices can only be augmented by taking time to review where we've been and what we learned while there.


So, I'm taking inventory of 2009 - trying to avoid overly scrupulous nit-picky things and bring the bigger picture into view - what did I learn? How did I bump into the lesson? What will I do with it now? Stuff like that.


I learned a bit about patience, I'd say. Patience with myself, that is. Or maybe it's acceptance? They seem to go together, at least when it comes to certain things, like getting off my own case. What did I learn about it, you ask? Hmmm... that's a good question - what DID I learn about patience and acceptance? Actually, I have to say "learnED" (past tense) doesn't seem quite right - see, when you're as patient and accepting as I am (now), you know that you're just never done learnING (present progressive tense) - Haha! I guess I've come to understand that even when I can't see and don't feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to or achieving what I think I should or making much of a difference at all, when I look back, I can see that I actually am doing some stuff (other than laundry) - I am making (some) progress.

It's kind of like kids' growing - when you're with 'em all the time (or if you just so happen to BE the kid), you just don't notice getting taller (until none of the clothes fit), the baby cheeks slimming, the hair getting longer -- it all just looks pretty much like it did the day before...which isn't so different than how it looked the week before - you know what I mean. So, I tend to be like a kid in a hurry to see some tangible evidence (right NOW please) that the way I'm spending my days is positively impacting the planet in a meaningful way. But they don't give out prizes for keeping your kids clean and fed or being there to talk them through a homework problem. There's no paparazzi for making beds, running with the dog, showing up at church or answering email.

But I can see that my kids know they have a Mom who puts them first, and they have a safe, special place where they can always come home. My husband knows I love, trust and treasure him. I feel completely loved. I am growing ever closer to God. I have found my voice and am increasingly willing to have it heard. Honestly, five years ago, I could not have said any of those things.... So, even though one day seems to feel pretty much like the one before and many of my projects, visions, and aspirations remain incomplete (if started at all), I must be doing something with my time to have made these true, right?  And with this comprehension, I become that much more patient and accepting of myself and everyone else just as we are, right here, right now.

Well, that took more words than I'd first expected (good thing I'm so patient - ha!), so I reckon this 2009 Ponder & Process Review will be....Continued. ;-)