Okay, birthday has come and gone. The birthday was lovely. The birthday, which was really a birthday week rather than just a day, has been fantastic. One of the better on record.
So I am blaming dream group for what is going on at the moment. Sod Dream Group. I have to blame something or somebody, so I'm blaming dream group.
The theme song for this blog is Talking Heads, "Once in a Lifetime". More for the lyrics than anything, although Stop Making Sense still brings a smile to my face and a bop to my shoulders. The words, "and you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?"
I'm blaming dream group for the events of the last few days. Bloody dream group. It's dream group that stirs things up and expects me to deal with the fall out.
At least it was my dream that started the stiring.
For those new to the blog, Dream Group is where I go on Wednesday Night. The first rule of dream group is that you don't talk about dream group. The second rule of dream group is that if you go to dream group, you have to dream. Like Fight Club, just a bit more brutal on the psyche than the body.
It was my dream that got blooded the other night. A dream of a house that was mine. A house that I visit in dreams regularly. A house that I wanted to rent. A house that in the past was near derelict in places but is now whole and safe and well lit (although the kitchen needs remodelling and my bedroom needs an airing and complete redecoration). The right side wing, once in such a state that it was uninhabitable, has been completely renovated, the floors, once disaster areas, now secure, the staircase, once unmountable, now secure and painted white. The upstairs used to have a tree through it, is now all secure, freshly painted and carpetted.
The discussion rattled me more than I would have wanted. Discussions of how the right side, the side of primal wildness - was ready to be inhabited. I listened to the conversation going on about me. I did take it in, though I am rejecting outright the thought of going to belly dancing lessons once again - I tried that years ago and it threw my back out. Besides, I look like a refrigerator when I dance.
I'm and ex-Methodist. There are some things I don't do. Dance is one of them. Wild, uninhibited, monkey sex is another - not that there is anybody around to have wild, uninhibited, monkey sex with at the moment.
All this chat of my alleged base nature had me crossing my legs, feeling around for my worry beads (iPhone will do) and looking for a trapdoor to open up and get me out of there.
Thankfully, I got out of Dream Group tear and tantrum free and get home to the relative peace of my flat.
The following morning, I woke to a headache and the feeling that thing were stiring. Something's changing. The headache has been around for the last few days - nothing bad enough to take a panadol, but there. Lingering. Like the dream group conversation.
Looking about the place, so much appears to be happening. Friends are leaving relationships, moving houses, moving on. I have no idea what the hell is happening. Part of me feels like I'm stuck in an endless spin cycle.
Is this maelstrom just the beginning. It feels like it.
Okay, it's bed time - enough existential crap. I've had a lovely day carting my parents around the wineries of the Yarra Valley.
I also reconnected with somebody I haven't seen or heard from in over fifteen years.
Still wondering what the universe has in store. What ever it is, it appears I'm due to be severely tested yet again.