Last night I dreamed I was part of some special rescue squad to get back some children kidnapped by the mob. Sylvester Stallone was the head of the house and he had lots of scary henchmen around (they were all a lot meaner than in that movie - Oscar) and in order to get the kids back I had to become friends with him. So I did. I think I was supposed to be his neighbor or something. I'd come over and cook dinner with them and we'd get in fights and yell at each other and a great respect grew up between us.
So this one night, several weeks into the dream, I dropped by the house and most of the gang were passed out drunk on the floor. Sylvester Stallone was still awake, roaring about something, and I walked right back to the den where he was and told him that he had to go to bed. He said, "Who do you think you're talking to, woman?" and I told him to shut up because he was a drunkard. Then he got kind of weepy and clingy, so I got him to climb into bed and I tucked him in and snuggled next to him to pat his back like a baby so he'd drift off. He asked me why I was so nice to a mean guy like him and I said "Because I like you even if you are a crook and a scoundrel and kidnap chilren but I don't want to be your lover even though I enjoy coming over at dinnertime to yell at you, so don't get any ideas," and he said that was nice, the world was nice...and he fell sound asleep.
So I signalled the rest of the team to sneak in and get the kids, which they did, and then I woke up, but I think the end of the story was that I convinced the mobsters to think I had fallen asleep too and had nothing to do with it and so we were able to continue on as we had been, quite happily and loudly.
And I fell back asleep again after I had woken up, and dreamed that my mother called, all upset, because she'd heard that my brother was smoking pot. He was at my place at the time, and I asked him about it, and he said he hadn't. I was convinced that he was telling the truth, but then his face clouded over and he admitted that he had, but only once. He said that he still had the rest of the pot and he ran and got it but it wasn't marijuana at all, it was clearly labelled Shaklee health supplements from ESSL's parents. I told him that it wasn't illegal to smoke that and he was greatly relieved and I eased my mother's worrying and the world was saved. Yay!
Merry Christmas!
I tried to get my family to reconsider the tradition of getting up at six to open stockings, but they won out. And it was fine and wonderful and great, as it always is. I received some nice pens and dried fruit and candy and socks, which are some of the Finer Things in life. My mom has pneumonia and Hannah is trying to not get it, and the high was 8 degrees Fahrenheit today, but no snow, which are some of the Fouler Things in life. All in all, a very happy Christmas, and we are sitting around enjoying gifts and games (I beat my dad at Squabble, Rach) and new CDs and each other.
When I get back to Chattanooga, you are all invited to come watch a movie at my place, because my dad gave me some surround-sound speakers - yay!
I also need to note that the stretch of Hwy 52 that you drive on to get from I-75 in Kentucky to where the Lapishes live is one of the prettiest little pieces of rural highway you could wish for. When I traveled west on it last Saturday at 10ish PM, there were no city lights, but the sky was cloudy and simultaneously bright with stars and moon. Bright enough to make the sparsely vegetated hills bordering the road stand out starkly against the light - very eerie, and beautiful. I almost drove off the road several times because it took my breath away. At one point I almost pulled over to see if Elves would pass, going West with a sad song.
And then travelling back on Wednesday, it was one of those drearily livid days, where the loveliness of the earth is in its bleakness. Every now and then a strong ray of sunlight would come out of nowhere and bring out a tall naked birch in its silver skin as it stood against a background of nondescript reddish-brown hardwoods. It made me want to cry.
I was cooking. I was up late, again, another glass bead on a necklace of nights containing as little sleep as I ever got when I had to study for finals, and the realization poured over me of just how happy I am.
I get to see a lot of crap in my job, and have to put my hands in it quite often, but when you can get past being repulsed there's a lot of satisfaction even in that kind of clean-up work. Not that I can always get past being repulsed...but I wouldn't give it up now. Maybe even the repulsion is necessary to begin with if you're going to really care about anyone.
Best bit of advice I've received in a long time - "It's rude to tell other people that their troubles are boring." ~ Lemony Snicket. Because sometimes, their troubles are boring. But if I force myself to keep from telling them that with any kind of verbal or non-verbal language, I find myself getting interested in the end.
It is wonderful how being around people and their silliness and nobility and screwed-up lives and redemptive families and anger and insight keeps you sane.
Anyway. I wish I was a better person. But I sure do have a good life.
And I hope I get some sleep tonight. My mom gave me a special temperature-sensitive foam mattress topper for Christmas and it got here early today. I put it on my bed and stretched out to test it - within five minutes my sinuses were clearing and I had the best twenty-minute nap I've had in ages. I highly recommend this stuff they call "memory foam." At least get a pillow out of it - $16 at Wal-Mart - and your back will thank you for it.