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This is from my past. Taken in the first house I remember living in...in Cool Ridge, West Virginia. I was playing with a dyed mop head made into a pom-pom (I don't know how to spell that.) I'm the little girl. I am sitting with an old family friend, Danny. He's been a friend since before I can remember--always there, working for my dad and visiting. Eating my mom's lasagna and raving about how amazing it was. Always encouraging me to drink milk so I can run fast, fast, fast. Whenever he'd come over, I would grab some milk and drink it really quickly and run past him again and again and he'd always pretend not to catch me until finally I was tired and slow and he'd catch me and lift me up. He'd tell me he was going to put a brick on my head so I couldn't grow so quickly. I remember him dating and falling in love and introducing me to his step-daughter. I spent weekend after weekend at their house, feeding bunnies and playing with crazy dogs. We ate corn that he grew. I played Barbie, talked about boys, and read Ann Frank in his house. I got bitten by his dog and he was so afraid that he would get fired or sued or both for it. The dog only bit me because she was excited about those silly forth of July "poppers" --at least that's what I called them. He doctored me up and asked me not to tell my dad unless it really did hurt. He gelded (is that the right word?) our horse when we had horses out in Cool Ridge; I don't think he did it correctly, hah. He always had funny shirts about being bald and too sexy for his hair and things like that --shirts you find (and we were usually the ones that got them for him) in Nashville and Gatlinburg and Myrtle Beach souvenir stores. Danny lived with his mother in her house after moving from his apartment in Beckley. She was in a coma for ten years and he took care of her constantly until she passed. Danny had a heart attack last week and then an allergic reaction to a dye they used and went into a coma. He died on Thursday. I called my mom on Friday to tell her I made it home from Atlanta safely. "I guess I should tell you about Danny." I knew it was coming, but I didn't want to know. I asked if he was still in a coma like I was a child. And she couldn't say it and I just cried in the middle of a shoe store in the mall on a cell phone. I take people for granted. Every time I think of Danny, I think of him this way. In this photo. And of the way he looked when he took me trick-or-treating and dressed up as a farmer even though he was already a farmer. I take so many people for granted. He was such a big part of my life. I don't believe in funerals. if you'd like to know, you can ask me; I don't feel the need to explain it here. I was going to pay my respects by getting some milk to drink in the cemetery after the funeral ended, but I just couldn't. Maybe next week. My dad is working too hard now without him. He misses him despite hardships they've had in the past year. He will not sleep well and he's going to find a hard time finding someone to do the job Danny did. This is such a big loss on so many levels. His wife, his poor wife. And grandkids. And step-daughters. I feel like I've swallowed a cantaloupe. But isn't he radiant? This photo was taken sometime in the late eighties.48/80
5:30am. the nth time I've woken up in a sweat from nightmares. I'm tired of this shit, to be quite honest. my dreams are always so vidid, so real. I did some googling, and apparently your brain stores your dreams if you relive then within the first ten minutes of waking up. since I normally wake up from my nightmares, I can't help but go over them again and again, so they keep getting stored in my tiny, dysfunctional brain. according to one of the articles I read, if your brain stores your dreams like that, then it's possible for them to become remembered as memories and not as dreams. this could be a problem since I've been dreaming a lot about the things I fear the most happening in my life, and I can see their affect on my behavior when I'm awake, which I don't like at all. that can't be healthy, shying and cringing about some horrible scenario my brain set up for me. more googling... Q: I am a psychologist who has worked with patient dreams for many years. I found the assertion that nightmares during REM sleep are creative attempts to work out fears about the future to be interesting, but perplexing. If that were true, wouldn't our nightmares have better resolutions? Instead, we are generally left with unsettling emotions that may serve to render us helpless rather than enable us to feel mastery. I wonder whether another purpose of nightmares, which would help explain this dilemma, is our impulse to talk about our disturbing dreams with others we judge to be helpful (which I have no intention of doing, since that would require divulging my greatest fears, which are very private things that I don't think anyone can help me with). A: There's a big debate over whether nightmares are functional or dysfunctional. Personally, I think nightmares are dysfunctional. Tony Zadra is a Canadian dream researcher who has worked extensively with nightmare sufferers to help them change the outcomes of their dreams. The article by Margaret Talbot in the Nov. 16 issue of the New Yorker describes his work, but there are others who feel equally strong that they have evolved to help us prepare for possible threats. I just want to sleep. it seems like I either don't sleep, or I sleep and have bad dreams. isn't there a magic pill that would fix both of those, instead of forcing me to sleep a full 8 hours while I'm stuck shifting from nightmare to nightmare? my brain is working out different endings for the scenarios, but even when the ending is "good," I usually feel some level of guilt about being in the situation in the first place. when it doesn't end well, I usually feel the same confusion/conflict I feel in my daily life--how much is too much honesty? should I show that side of me, that weakness? should I admit my recurring concerns? is getting upset about things going to affect the outcome, or is getting upset just going to make happen what I fear the most? did I mention that I hate this? I can't do good work if I can't sleep, or if I'm afraid to sleep, or if I'm constantly remembering nightmares during the day which negatively affect my behavior and my mental state. I guess it feels like my dreams are making me go crazy.
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