So I was awoken at 2:00 a.m. this morning by the most terrifying dream—I’m blaming Jimmy Kimmel, YouTube, that old run down (yet entirely enticing) Ohio Oil & Gas station on Parsons, the Puppet Master, Netflix, probably Bally Sports is in on the action, and let’s not leave out Columbus City Council (more on those ghoulish characters later). I have never, to the best of my knowledge had a terrifying nightmare startle me awake like the one I just had, replete with angry, male thugs trying to take my house, property and dogs away, storming through my house as I fought to cry out for Michael, who was somewhere off warming up the red VW GTI to take us on errands. And now, here I sit, up in the dead of night trying to recover, while Jimmy has his Monday night monologue about NextDoor tucked away in his pajamas, and he’s slumbering peacefully. Thanks for nothing.
The gas station ties into all this because I stopped in there yesterday (always knew I’d end up there some day) after my dental appointment and run to CVS to get my thyroid medicine and outrageously priced Progesterone. I had a most telling conversation with the attendant inside, who told me the United Methodist Church downtown has been busy buying up the old post office on Whittier, as well as several houses in the vicinity. The plan, already rubber-stamped by City Council (without telling nearby neighbors) is to put low-income housing right smack up in Schumacher Place. I found myself actually laughing when I heard the news, cause Kimmel effectively cut me off from bitching about it on NextDoor (though I may still go there to rile the neighbors up, after all Wastebook is only for amateurs these days). So it’s a no-brainer that I should have a nightmare that someone wants to steal my house, and YouTube’s latest video for “Enter The Sandman,” yesterday morning’s feast, just put me over the edge.
Not sure what Bally’s is up to, but I fell asleep in my chair during last night’s hockey game, and I know from the October/November “incident” that my subconscious picks up what I’m hearing through the television and Michael’s iPad. Bally’s was calling the game, and I don’t know what Jeff and Jody were up to…normally, they are safe for the entire family, so perhaps Bally’s Sports is not a guilty culprit in my Sleep of Demons. Maybe I’m just fooling myself, I’m completely off my rocker and totally insane (always a distinct possibility) but no, Fetter assured me I’m fine and he, of all people, knows what I’m like when I’m nuts. Michael of course does too, but he’s quick to jump the gun and lightly gaslight me, from time to time. Fetter never, ever does that. I don’t feel crazy, I know psychosis, I’ve recently had flashbacks to it, that just doesn’t happen if you’re in psychosis. I guess I’m just really upset by this nightmare, and I know without a doubt the seed was planted by Kimmel’s show Monday night. Note to self: never watch ABC again.
I’m sitting here wondering how in the world I’m going to get through the day. I have a coffee date with Julie Schottenstein Saar at 10:30 a.m., then lunch with Arlene and Carol at 12:30 at Panera. I’m going to be exhausted, how in the world am I supposed to cook dinner? It would be one thing if I was one who could take naps…maybe, just maybe, I can somehow get a few hours rest before dinner time, oh please God, let me fall asleep when I get home from lunch! Absolutely no more drinking caffienated beverages from Starbucks in the afternoon (a tactical blunder made by me yesterday). Maybe no more talking to strangers, am I to be denied that fun as well? I feel horrible, under-rested, scared, kinda miffed, yet kinda wondering who’s also up at this hour besides me and the train conductor whose trusty horn I heard upon awakening.
Well I guess dear friend Katie will be up around 6:00 a.m., so that’s only oh, around two hours to wait for some conversation. Yes, yes, the 7:00 a.m. AA First Things First is a possibility—maybe I text dear sponsor Shawn (and good member of the United Methodist Church) before the meeting to inquire what’s afoot in Shumacher Place. But of course he knows, probably figured I wouldn’t find out this quickly, but won’t be surprised by my rooting around in matters perhaps best left to others.
Wearily, I bid you adieu, in this dark, inky night. Perhaps I’ll peek outside to see if there are any stars in the sky, and of course check on what that Devil Moon is up to. Seize the day, I’m going to feebly try to.
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