This dream twisted and turned so many times it would be impossible to write it all down in chronological order. There were two strip bars, me marrying the mother from Little House on the Prairie; Pa married his daughter once I took his wife. My sister went to a strip bar looking to get laid. We went back and forth from Indy to Florida in that stupid Winnebago. Found two family members which do not exist, threw colours in the air, grasped at straws, fought with dogs, stole my grandmother’s car to get the kidnapped family member back to where she should be and visited an old restaurant that my mother ran into the ground when I was a kid. Boy do I hate, and never again want to revisit MCL Cafeteria.
One non-existent family member was kidnapped by other family members traveling from Indy to Florida in the grandmother’s Winnebago. They said they wanted to visit with her and would return her whenever they were ready to send her home. The young girl, about 14 years old, was an angry girl who yelled at her grandmother for having Alzheimer’s. It was clear the grandmother was trying to remember things but the young girl was overly angry at her. She was an unreasonable girl. Several family members and I watched her yell and scream then leave the grandmother standing with strangers, unable to get herself home. I went and got the grandmother and brought her back to the Winnebago. At the caravan the grandmother began throwing things. I don’t remember why.
From there the dream moved to a sports arena where a judge/attorney questioned a witness to a crime. The judge/attorney was known for clearing guilty criminals. The referee of the sports game came up to the judge/attorney and told her she couldn’t practice law there. He picked up her huge bundle of straws and tossed them on the floor. She began a wild search to gather them all. He then grabbed her bundle of coloured pencils. The dream went in slow motion, drama style, as he walked up further into the bleachers then tossed the coloured pencils behind him without even looking. They went everywhere. The judge/attorney was furious. He went back to monitoring the movements of all the players. I went to talk to the judge and calm her down. I told her for $300 I could do her a “favor” and calm her. She said it’s usually done pretty badly and she didn’t want to waste her time. I told her I wouldn’t charge so much if I wasn’t good. The witnesses sort of disappeared. I did my thing, got $300 and went on.
Clearly I’m still a bit upset and influenced by Blossom’s statement of my “ability” to be a high priced whore. The question : Who would find that a compliment? The answer: An underpaid but quality whore would be delighted to know she should charge more for her “abilities”. The resolution: I hope that theme doesn’t keep showing up in my dreams. For crying out loud!!!! Next thing you know I”ll have a little black book with judges and politicians in it. Gracious!!! I have to remember it was a thoughtless, cruel comment from a woman I know to be thoughtless, reckless and cruel. It doesn’t mean its true because she said it. I am not a whore.
Needless to say it was a night of no rest but plenty of dreams symbolizing inner unrest. This is one of those days where I have to watch my step because I’m fighting mad about everything. I went to bed mad, woke up madder.
When I’m pissed at this level I can find more stuff to be pissed about, which is why I have to watch my step today. I have to remember what the actual source of my anger is and remember to keep it focused and not spread it around to these stupid idiots who have the nerve to look at me or breath too loudly or exist to people who have nothing at all to do with why I’m angry.
Joan of Arc
The High Price of Unrest-Friday, May 30, 2008-12:07PM EST
Sounds like you know what to do to keep things safe and not blast anyone. Keep remembering who the anger is really toward. Sounds like you are doing a good job.