This will be random sayings, thoughts, and a dream.
Dotty in the Sun
I walked near Dotty where she slept in the sun and petted her in passing. She rolled onto her back and laid there, inert, relaxed and happy.
I remember the first time I saw her, curled in a tight ball on top of one of the bigger cages at the shelter. Each visit she’d be curled tightly in a high place where the other cats couldn’t get to her. She’d spent over 2 years at a previous animal shelter before being transferred to the chronic illness section of our shelter. Normal shelters euthanize cats with what she had so her life was saved by coming to our place. Later testing showed no sign of the illness so she was moved over to the healthy cats section. She’d been at our shelter for a year, and it broke my heart to see her there after several adoption events. When I adopted Mlady the belief was that she’d be the only queen in the house, so bringing Dotty home was a gamble. It’s taken awhile, but they get along fairly well now (except when 2HL shows up and Dotty turns maniac on Mlady.) Mlady has learned to skeedaddle now when he shows up and peeks around the corner to watch him.
As I petted Dotty’s happy, inert form, a profound truth presented itself:
Everybody deserves their time in the sun.
Don’t ask me what chaos I was thinking at the time it came to me, as there are so many thoughts that stream through my mind. One of those loops that you travel from place to place until you find the dead end of the unanswerable. This one was why do chaos junkies keep choosing things to keep the chaos going when it is obvious that they have the awareness to know where it leads. A thought jumped up and started waving:
Nobody ever accused chaos of playing dead.
Bombarded from all directions by marketing, opinions, challenges, threats to quality of life, and outright annihilation, it’s easy to understand that a mind can go numb, freeze up, become desensitized, etc. Who wants to walk around like a zombie? Chaos could be considered a maladaptive coping mechanism. Chaos is connecting a corpse to electrodes connected to a lightning rod in a storm and hoping to do more than animate it. It didn’t work for Frankenstein’s monster, and it won’t work for chaos junkies.
Anyone who has read my blog for any length of time knows I’m into matters of the dream world. I believe Clarissa Pinkola-Estes when she calls dreams “messages from home.” I believe dreams can be extremely useful when you can decipher the symbols presented in them.
I am in the process of revising the story I wrote last year, with the help of some critiques on it as well as very helpful tips from Cage Dunn (thank you, Cage!) and a very good youtube on writing short stories that Cage directed me to. I’m pulling it apart and putting it back together. Once I get some success with the rewrite, my plan is to start on a novel. Chuck Palahniuk’s latest book will be helping me with it along with the rest.
Last night, while saying my prayers, I asked the dream world to give me some guidance on what the book should be about. Here is what I dreamed:
I was at my old house in the city, a modest home with a small yard. The house was not lived in but I was there. Eric Clapton (yes! Eric Clapton!) showed up with a full recording production crew, every kind of musician you can imagine, and an entourage of family members, groupies, etc. They did not interact with me but they used my space over a number of hours to cut an album. Once it was finished, they packed up everything meticulously, including clearing some kind of gunk off of the walls, and left. I remember wondering how good the album would be when I heard it and thought probably not very good.
What this means as far as a plot for my book remains a mystery. Dream symbols seldom have a direct meaning.