Visions of Seasonal Things Dancing in Your Heads

My dreams lately haven’t been barrels of laughs, but it’s been a while since I had one of my usual night terrors—until a few nights ago. Boy, was it a whopper. Here are events that I suspect precipitated it:

1. A week before, I’d learned I’d been exposed to Covid during one of my rare social visits outdoors. (Luckily I dodged that bullet, but man, were the ensuing days filled with waves of anxiety.) 
   
2. A week and three negative tests later, as I was getting out of my car in Chico a maskless woman approached with an unclear purpose. Apparently not concerned about the virus, she kept coming ever nearer, until I held up my palm for her to stop.

What might your unconscious mind have concocted for your nocturnal entertainment that night? 

Here’s what mine produced:

I was surrounded by grinning, leering zombies. Some had been people I knew and trusted before they became possessed—a friend, my doctor, a neighbor—and others were strangers. They were all coming at me, scrambling over each other to be the first to get to me. Their driving need was to find an un-zombified person like myself, seize me and bite me in the face or neck, thus causing me to become one of their own for eternity. Dozens of these demonic once-humans dashed at me all at once, cackling with malice as I tried to find ways to keep them from getting their faces close to me, with diminishing success.

The dream still unnerves me and now I know why: because it’s real. Anyone could turn out to be a Covid-zombie. 

Out of the blue just now, I had a sudden memory of—wait for it—other times I’ve slept badly in my life. I’m serious. My brain was like a ViewMaster clicking through random scenes from days gone by. And, like, why? Who cares? If I told you about them, I’d seriously be scraping the bottom of the topic-barrel. Well, how about just one?

‘Twas the night before I got braces. The doctor had inserted thick segments of rubber band between each tooth to space them wide enough to accommodate those wide metal bands. Within hours, I was in big pain. To make matters worse, I’d chosen to sleep on the floor in a fort I’d made out of cardboard boxes. Not a good sleep.

Now for some end-of-year Good Things:

• I’ve been having fun attempting to “paint” with wool roving. My first two needle-felting projects were scenes from store-bought kits, and then for this last one I decided to strike out on my own. Using a photo I’d taken years ago in the desert Southwest as inspiration and then careening off into made-up terrain, I jabbed together bits of leftover wool into this silly-looking image. I never should have attempted that horse. (Yes, it’s a horse. A rare species of long-nosed, short-legged, horse.)

• Thwarted in 2020, this year I got to celebrate the holiday with both my girls. My negative BinaxNOW test last Saturday morning cleared the way for my departure an hour later for Casa de Eleni, where for two days we enjoyed present-opening, hanging out, and general merriment. And then, after more negative at-home tests for all, I joined Lulu, Josh, Hercule and Phryne (the last two exempted from the swab because they’re cats) for a Christmas Eve sleepover in Alameda. There, I had my first ever experience with virtual reality:

• Ember is due to arrive on the first of January. What better way to start 2022! I’ll get to see the whole family for a bit, too, before they turn around and head back up to Chico. I’m eager for the Ember Adventure to begin, and hope all involved parties are as well.

• Josh and Molly made fabulous mole enchiladas with butternut squash for dinner last night. The food was soft enough that even I, molar-compromised as I am, could eat them.

• And today it’s Christmas. To the two or three or maybe four of you who may read this: I wish each of you the best of holidays, with good health and plenty of fun, Omicron-permitting.

May visions of sugar plums and long-nosed, short-legged horses dance in your heads as we make our way back to the light!