The nests this time, with beautiful eggs of every shape, color, and pattern. I love this dream. It excites me the same way the dream of finding money everywhere does. For as long as I can remember I've loved nests. I'd climb any tree no matter how tall just to look into one. Never to touch, just to look. It was okay if there were babies, but to see those perfectly formed, matte finished eggs, that was the real prize. It's logical that I would dream about nests I suppose. The nests in my dreams aren't up in trees, they're on the ground. And each one is more exciting to discover than the one before.
At some point the nests faded and I was part of a two-couple team staying at an old inn, or bed and breakfast. I have no idea who the people were, only that I felt vaguely married to one of the men. I was excited because I thought I remembered this place from childhood, everything was so familiar. Eventually I became aware that all of us had over stayed our welcome, and that the men in particular had taken liberties with the staff and were given to late night drinking and general frat-boy behavior. Coincidentally, by this time the place had also morphed into somewhere I didn't remember from childhood at all. In the dream I awoke very late in the day and had to pass through several occupied areas of the inn wearing only a bed sheet. I felt shameful and hurried along, aware that all eyes were on me. I encountered one room after another, no walls, just endless drapes of dark red velvet. Lost in a maze I had to wander around clad only in a bed sheet. Eventually I did find the room I was looking for-or it became the room I was looking for the instant I arrived there. Now no walls or drapes, just a room exposed to the elements. An old bureau crammed with dusty relics of the past, useless. An umbrella stand with no umbrellas. This room was my goal? But why, there's nothing significant here, nothing at all that I can use. And where are my damned clothes? The inn keeper is going to find me and he's angry, the rest of my party have skipped out on the bill and left bedlam in their wake. By now I know I'm dreaming, I'm also aware I'll be late for an eye appointment if I don't extract myself from this dream. So, while I would have loved to find out how I went from finding lovely nests to a B&B from childhood to a velvet drapery maze with an angry inn keeper on my trail...the waking world was calling loudly. Up, awake, unfold, step outside.
And what a bold day it has been so far. I made a new friend waiting for the appointment (which I was late for and took a spot one hour later). Yes, today is an improvement from yesterday and the day before, when I was furious with the owner of the store I work at. He'd picked up my day planner that I'd accidentally left in the office while entering a few days off on the master calendar and felt entitled read through it. Later that day he passed by me and asked, "Did you get your book?" I didn't know what he meant, I hadn't missed it yet and probably wouldn't have until going home. He indicated I should follow him to the office where he pulled it from the cubby marked "deli" and handed it to me. Before I could say thanks he looked sternly at me and said, "I'm surprised you were able to function without it." He wasn't smiling, he was looking at me as a father scolding an errant child. How dare he? I was stunned and couldn't say anything. Obviously he had read through it and wasn't happy with what he found there. He just walked passed me with nothing else to say. In fact he hasn't spoken to me yet.
So he knows my menstrual cycle now. I hope for his sake he also knows to stay the hell away from me three days prior to the start of it, or he may get his nose bit off. So he knows my shopping lists and the fact that most of it is purchased at a place he hates and considers competition. Good, maybe he will start carrying those items and not charge a highly inflated price for them. He's aware of my around-the-house-to-do lists, the fact that the guinea pig play park is cleaned on Sundays and Wednesdays, the aviaries are cleaned on Mondays, and the reptile habitats are maintained on Fridays. Riveting stuff, isn't it? And perhaps best of all, he knows I go to chant in a circle every Thursday night at seven o'clock, and that the books on becoming a practical mystic are finally in at the Big Name Book Store that he despises and can be picked up at my convenience. And yes, I did record the days I had to both pick up and deliver back home his produce/grab-n-go case manager because she lost her driver's license for not paying tickets, property tax, tag renewals, and hadn't carried car insurance for two years. And the fact that the round trip to pick up her car at the towing place was forty miles. I make lists in this book, notations, record upcoming events. I keep track of my menstrual cycle there because I have only one ovary and if things change drastically my doctor needs to know. I record the weather if it interests me, I note happy and sad events in this book. And do you know why I do these things? Because it's called a day planner!
Oh, it gets better. The next day a supplements employee came to me with copies of pages from the day planner that had been left in the copier. Brilliant, you snoop through something that you have no business in and make copies to use for whatever bizarre reason, and forget to take them all? Fuckwit bastard.
This is the same man who consistently lines up all the drinks on the staff table as if to say he doesn't approve of our having a drink available while working in a hot, un vented kitchen. The same man who takes all the staff food off the STAFF FOOD ONLY shelf in the walk-in cooler and places it in a line on the floor, as if to say he doesn't approve of our need to eat lunch on our pissy little thirty minute lunch break.
I've had it with him and his Ebenezer Scrooge ways, his anal retentive, ocd bullshit. There's medicine for what he has, therapy even if he's such a purist that he won't take a prescription. His wife is a MD, why is he still walking around making himself and everyone else miserable?
I'm fairly convinced it's time for me to go work at the BIG NAME HEALTH FOOD CHAIN, the one that gives him a facial tic every time he hears it mentioned.
Above everything else I just feel violated. He thinks I'm crazy. He knows my private business. He's passing judgement on me based on things written in a day planner, something he should never have looked any further through than the inside cover, where it clearly states who the owner is. Every time he's around me now I feel naked, shameful, feeble-minded, and mental. It's his karma not mine, sure, but I still have to feel bad because of it.
I wonder what his MD wife would think about Code Carl, an intercom call he makes to all the male employees whenever a hot girl is in the store?
1:40 p.m. - 2006-09-15
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