Saying No

    I had a dream the other night which engages me on several levels.  In the dream I am at a medical facility.  There is a group of 6 or 8 doctor types gathered around me.  They are telling me that they need to do some kind of highly invasive procedure that will be quite painful.  They tell me that there is no guarantee that they will be able to gather any useful information but they MIGHT get some answers to some questions they have.  They want me to sign the paper so they can go ahead with this.  I very calmly look at them and tell them no.  No, I don't want that procedure.  What?  They are aghast!  What do you mean no?  This is what we have to do in order to attempt to fix you.  You will have to submit to this procedure or we can not help you any more.  You might die.  Okay then, I say calmly.  So be it.

    Weird, heh? I like that I say no in the dream.  I like that I make the decision for myself.  No one is going to railroad me into something that doesn't work for me.  I suppose I could be seen as foolish.  After all, they are trying to "fix" me.  I should comply with them.  But I am not interested in the painful, invasive procedure.  Not if there isn't a payoff.  I don't like their attitude.  It is as if they know what's best for me and I should take their word for it.  Guess what, peeps?  I am the only expert on me.

   I suppose part of this dream might stem from the sadness and frustration I feel about my friend Lesly's recent death.  Lesly and her family fought with cancer for over three years.  If she had known from the start how this was going to end, would they have fought the battle so long? The last six months were especially difficult, fighting always for some, if not improvement, at least pause in the cancer's progression.  Such a hard time and yet the ending came anyway.  Far too soon.  Who knows what avenue I would take in a similar situation but I wonder if I would carry on as long as Lesly did.

Conversations

      I watched an old episode of Northern Exposure last night in which 30 year old Maggie encounters her 15 year old self (imagination runs amok in this Alaskan town sometimes).  Maggie's 15 year old self was mortified when she realized who Maggie had become at the ripe old age of 30.  This older Maggie was no where near what the younger Maggie thought she would be.  Younger Maggie had assumed that older Maggie would have a prestigious  law practice and would be married, with two beautiful children and blended into the genteel life of Grosse Point,  Michigan.  Maggie the elder does not see the need to ever get married, may or may not have children and loves her adventurous life as a bush pilot in remote Alaska.  My, how people change. Naturally, the episode set me to thinking about how such an encounter would go in my life.

      I turned 15 the year Martin Luther King Jr and Robert Kennedy were assassinated.  This was the year after San Francisco's Summer of Love - a summer also known as the Long, Hot Summer for the race riots that battered the country.  I was an aware 15 year old, who paid attention to politics and even thought about politics as a career. I watched the Democratic Convention in Chicago with fascination and was shocked by the riots.  I was already inclined towards pacifism and anti-war activities  and, at 15, I was idealistic and, yes, naive.  Who isn't at 15?  And, in those years, it was hard to be a thoughtful young person and not get pulled into the fray.  After all, you weren't supposed to trust anyone over 30.

     But, beyond that political awareness, I can't tell you who or what I wanted to be at 15.  I don't think I thought much about getting married, though I am sure I assumed that I would have a family.  I am sure I assumed I would go to college but the details were vague.  My parents had not gone to college and there was no college account so I suspect I knew, as a 15 year old, that I would be going to the local public college and living at home.  It's odd for me to think about myself at 15.  I can only get a small glimpse of who I was and that is based on what I knew was going on in the world around me at the time.

     I suspect my 15 year old self would not have been too annoyed with my 30 year old self.  My world view at 15 was narrow so my 30 year old self (complete with college degrees, husband, house in town, and a VW Beetle of my own) would have impressed my younger self.   Would my 30 year old self approve of my 58 year old self?  You know, I think she would have but that's because even at 30 there was a TON of learning left to happen.  In much the same way that my 15 year old self was on the edge of an exiting leap into adulthood, my 30 year old self was sitting on the brink of a new life as well. Thirty was a new marriage, a new career twist, and the beginning of first time ever unprotected sex.  Babies, here we come!  At thirty, I thought I knew a thing or two and I am sure I did but there was so much more to learn.  I suspect 30 would find my 58 year old self acceptable though rather boring.  58 is a strong contributor to the community and 58 has done the hard work of parenting.  30 would enjoy 58 year old's children.  I don't see 58 as on the edge of change but that's where I might be surprised.  I wonder what 75 will think of 58?

Toe the Line

    So I've been talking to my mind lately before falling asleep at night.  I've been saying, "C'mon , mind, give me something with which to work.  Give me some cool dreams that I can interpret to my heart's content."  I was thinking something like cosmic dreams with symbolism galore.  For example, over the years, I have dreamed of my grandfather's house over and over again.  Things have taken place in my dreams which, trust me, never really happened (think little brothers and race cars).  And things have happened in my dreams which really COULD have happened (think big brothers and Bubble Up).  There is a house which returns to my dreams from time to time.  It is palatial and has a whole wing upstairs that is not known to anyone but me.  You have to access this part of the house by climbing a bunk bed sort of ladder and crawling through an attic but then you enter this peaceful, spacious, airy studio apartment sort of place.  There is comfortable furniture and big windows (with classic lattice panes) that have hinges and open up like doors.  There is a fantastic balcony which has a view of a lush and brightly colored flower garden. I know these dreams are packed with meaning but, for me, the meaning is obscured.  And, sadly, no house dreams have shown up at the nighttime movie house in my head.

     So last night my dream notebook finally got used.  I woke up around 1:30 and realized that Bingo! my mind was just speaking to me in a dream.  Thing is, it was very direct and to the point.  All I remembered was a huge sign that said, "Proceed with Caution."  So, I think to myself, well, that's not much to go on.  That's about as direct as you can get.  But I dutifully scribble it down (really, I can barely read it in the morning), take advantage of the opportunity to pee, and crash asleep again.  About two hours later I wake up again.  Bingo!  More messages from my mind!  This time there is also a sign AND a voice reading the sign:  "You should toe the line.  You have shoes."  And that's how it was spelled.  I don't know about you, but I always
thought that it would be "tow the line"  as in pull it behind a car, truck, or boat.  But maybe it is "toe the line" as in put your toes on the starting line.  Whatever.  The message was clear and, frankly, not a welcome one.  Damn!  I have been told to "toe the line" all my fucking life.  I do it well.  I demand a re-deal.  I want a new message.