During a drive yesterday (THIS is why I need a voice recorder with me 24/7):

We do not guarantee that you will become sane.
We do not guarantee that you will become insane.
We make absolutely no guarantees; did you think Stef had any guarantees in CT?

Somehow, I found this comforting.

Greg pointed out to me that my post late last night (Searching for Therapy) rang of an emotional trap.

I’ve been feeling pretty depressed lately and hopeless and frustrated and angry and a whole bunch of “negative” emotions. I think that it could be my work situation, it could be the therapist thing, it could be a number of things… but I haven’t sat down to ask myself exactly why.

I don’t really feel up to providing all of the details at the moment but I did want to apologize to my readers for the emotional trap. I’m not nearly so hopeless and helpless.

You’re a lucky bunch today! Three posts from this morning:

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13.7M 19:58

 

New Trusted Content: An Audio Post Two-Fer

On Thursday morning, I had one of the most clear dreams I've had in a very long time.

The dream is set in college/high school.  I am the age I am now, but people around me are of college age and are college acquaintances.  It starts off in college, then moves toward something like high school.

The dream starts off with me in the shower.  My head has gotten wet, but I quickly realize that there is no soap.  Somehow, I have ended up at college, away from home, and I have forgotten to bring soap.  There isn't any real chance for me to get the soap from home, so I have to go buy some.

I wrap a towel around myself.  The towel is a big bath sheet and covers my torso and hips (just like I wear the towel in real life).  As I am walking down the tile stairs that appear to lead upwards to the tub I was in, I notice somebody to my right.  I know him to be one of my roommates from college, except that the character in my dream does not look like this roommate.  The character is much, much fatter.  I have entered a rounded, tiled room which is something like a locker room shower area, and my roommate is standing underneath one of the shower heads.  He is fully-clothed, and the water is just pouring down over his head.  He is soaking wet, and not moving.  He is barely even breathing.

In real life, this roommate is a Christian, and I've always had an impression of him as being very in-the-box.

I leave the roommate behind.  I am now walking through a hallway that resembles the hallways in the high school I attended.  I am still wrapped in a towel, and I believe I am holding it up with one of my hands as I walk.  Despite this, I am walking through the hallways with an air of confidence.  As I walk, some people look askance at me, but most people don't seem to particularly notice.  I interact with a few people, and they seem to act normally with me.  I do not remember any of the details of the conversations I've had, only that they were light-hearted and jocular.

I have now entered a clothing store.  I have a credit card in my hand, ready to make a purchase.  In particular, I am looking at the underwear selection, but I can't seem to find anything that fits me.  At one point, I am holding up a large, satiny pair of briefs that I decide won't work, so I don't buy them.

I am now briefly in a room much like the main office of a school, still wearing a towel.  I think there might have been people there, but I was in that room so briefly that it barely mattered.  I step out of this outer office into an inner office.  I have in my mind some sort of administrative information to ask the person in there, but either as soon as I enter the room or as soon as the door shuts, I forget my question.  In the room is a woman that I feel I recognize but am unable to identify.  She is wearing a white turtleneck sweater and was sitting in a chair, facing the door when I entered.  She says to me, "You need to talk to somebody."  She says this not as a demand or an imperative, but simply as an observation of fact.  At this point, I sit down in a chair over to the right and feel a deep, poignant sadness.  Included in the woman's observation is an understanding that I can also talk to her, if I like.

At this point, I awake, and I feel a sense of clarity and restedness.  The thought in my mind is, "I need to be empirical and observant."

Incidentally, this would have been at about the same time that Beth had her dream about her step-mother, posted elsewhere.