I don’t need the Full Moon icon on my calendar to alert me to the fact that tomorrow is the night. Long-time readers know my sleep pattern is disrupted by the cycle and my dreams go off the charts around the full moon. Last night I went to bed relatively early (11’ish) in hopes of waking at 5:30 and taking a long walk. I read for a bit (just after midnight’ish) but couldn’t get my to-do list off my mind so I took a few minutes to electronically whip it up on the cell that I’m increasingly finding more purpose in owning.
Then I drifted … back to Toronto … where I ran into everyone I ever knew there and several people I didn’t. We went to movies, shopped, rode the streetcar, had several affairs, got into some fistfights, drank a slew of Cosmos and many bottles of Dom Perignon, attended concerts, danced in the streets with sports fans, brunched, lunched, supped, snacked, met rock stars, danced in clubs, tried on every stitch of clothing ever made as we searched for the perfect outfit, interviewed for new jobs … and on and on and on … until I woke at 3:30am completely worn out and crossed my fingers that in the next dream I would fly to someplace less stimulating.
Back in dreamland my prayers were semi-answered as I found myself leisurely wandering around a nearly empty antique shop. Just me and a boyfriend in this huge dusty shop housed in what once must have been a magnificent mansion. In case I haven’t mentioned it, I am always aware I’m dreaming. I haven’t mastered the remote control yet, but I generally know I’m in a dream. So I was surprised to see which (now ex) boyfriend my brain conjured to accompany me on this dream excursion. Surrounded by the soothing scent of old books I settled into what would surely be a more relaxing type of dream that would take me the rest of the way to 5:30 with enough rest to pull off a morning walk … and then the rest of the bus tour passengers rushed in along with a stern efficient guide who barked, “Five minutes, folks! Quick like bunnies! We’ve got 250 more scheduled stops today!” My heart sank as I realized my brain wasn’t done torturing me just yet, but at least I had a good companion for the trip I thought and turned to take his hand. Of course he was long gone, morphed into a more disturbing ex, the one who might poison the water in my bottle if I let it out of my sight. Lovely!
And just like that the dream turned to nightmare with me running and hiding in the huge mansion antique store as I searched for the canteen so I could buy a new bottle of water. I opened one eye at 5:30 to see rain and fog outside, feeling like I’d been clobbered by a baseball bat in my sleep, the ache of exhausting dreams mingling with arthritic inflammation brought on by the weather. I rolled over and returned to my dreams, hoping I’d find myself back in Toronto, which at least wasn’t life and death frightening just exhausting. No such luck, but at least I was in line at the canteen about to buy a new bottle of water. Of course I had no money I realized as I came to the front. Somebody had stolen my purse. Lucky for me another ex was in line behind me and offered to buy me a drink. And then the canteen changed to a bar and we were laughing and flirting and playing pool …
I didn’t get up until after 10. I’ve drunk a pot of coffee. I feel like I pulled an all-niter. Every bone and muscle in my body is aching. This is what a full moon does to me.
Listening To: over the hills and far away, led zeppelin