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The dawning of the Age of Something
Jan. 3rd, 2003 08:57 amI don't recall whether or not I've referred to him here before, but He Who Is Alternately Called "Dave" And "The Once And Future Roommate" is moving in on Monday. Which means that not only am I going to be entirely asocial all weekend, but I'm going to have to redesign the entire layout and function of my bedroom that it might support two people for two months.
So, don't expect to see me much between this afternoon and Monday. ;)
My mother's birthday is tomorrow, which doesn't help matters; it means that I can't ask her for assistance in rearranging and moving things. Granted that my father will be home, and that - frankly - if I really, really wanted to, I could get it all done tonight, but seriously, I'd be up until well after my parents went to bed, and I doubt they'd approve of that.
On the other hand, they're the ones who don't seem inclined to sit down and talk to me about where the hell I'm supposed to be living once they get back from bloody Perth at the end of February. (For those who don't know, my parents are considering purchasing a house and then renting it to me for the cost of the mortgage payments. I'm not arguing that this is a great deal and that I'm incredibly lucky to even have them thinking about it. The problem is just that - they're thinking about it, and until they make a decision, I don't know whether or not I'm supposed to be looking for an apartment on my own. This actually adds a small degree of stress to my life; I know how long buying a house can take, and I want to move out before the one-year mark, which comes in the middle of April.)
Anyway.
I had a nightmare last night, for the first time in (I think) years; it didn't start out as a nightmare, but then, they rarely do. I actually don't remember the first part of the dream, save that it was fairly benevolent: my memory picks up as I'm in the family car, driving down the road just in front of our house. We've just left to run errands, and I've forgotten something; despite the brown bear across the street (it was clearly identified as such, even though I have no idea how it got there and it quite frankly resembled more of a cross between a big cat and a ground sloth, only very large and a vaguely tan color), it was decided that it would be faster for me to run back up the driveway, grab whatever it was that I'd forgotten, and run back down. As a concession, I asked my father to back the car up as I walked, to keep it between myself and the bear, and he agreed; but he backed up too quickly, there was a sudden chill of terror as I realized that there was empty space between me and the bear, and we both started to run - along our respective sides of the road - at once, me to catch up with the car and the bear - well, I'm not sure really what it was doing. In my haste, though, I stumbled across the opening to its den (which my mind, until I wrote this, persisted in thinking of as its nest), and the bear - which had rounded the rear end of the now-stopped car - came at me to defend its den. I bolted, yelling for help and running as fast as I could, but it was much faster than I was, and at the moment that it caught me (with giant, furry paws around my waist) and latched its jaws onto my lower spine in an attempt to rip it out, I woke up with a shout and a stitch in my back, which I can still feel six hours later (after another two hours of sleep).
I feel that this is not auspicious. And I still have no idea where the bear came from.
So, don't expect to see me much between this afternoon and Monday. ;)
My mother's birthday is tomorrow, which doesn't help matters; it means that I can't ask her for assistance in rearranging and moving things. Granted that my father will be home, and that - frankly - if I really, really wanted to, I could get it all done tonight, but seriously, I'd be up until well after my parents went to bed, and I doubt they'd approve of that.
On the other hand, they're the ones who don't seem inclined to sit down and talk to me about where the hell I'm supposed to be living once they get back from bloody Perth at the end of February. (For those who don't know, my parents are considering purchasing a house and then renting it to me for the cost of the mortgage payments. I'm not arguing that this is a great deal and that I'm incredibly lucky to even have them thinking about it. The problem is just that - they're thinking about it, and until they make a decision, I don't know whether or not I'm supposed to be looking for an apartment on my own. This actually adds a small degree of stress to my life; I know how long buying a house can take, and I want to move out before the one-year mark, which comes in the middle of April.)
Anyway.
I had a nightmare last night, for the first time in (I think) years; it didn't start out as a nightmare, but then, they rarely do. I actually don't remember the first part of the dream, save that it was fairly benevolent: my memory picks up as I'm in the family car, driving down the road just in front of our house. We've just left to run errands, and I've forgotten something; despite the brown bear across the street (it was clearly identified as such, even though I have no idea how it got there and it quite frankly resembled more of a cross between a big cat and a ground sloth, only very large and a vaguely tan color), it was decided that it would be faster for me to run back up the driveway, grab whatever it was that I'd forgotten, and run back down. As a concession, I asked my father to back the car up as I walked, to keep it between myself and the bear, and he agreed; but he backed up too quickly, there was a sudden chill of terror as I realized that there was empty space between me and the bear, and we both started to run - along our respective sides of the road - at once, me to catch up with the car and the bear - well, I'm not sure really what it was doing. In my haste, though, I stumbled across the opening to its den (which my mind, until I wrote this, persisted in thinking of as its nest), and the bear - which had rounded the rear end of the now-stopped car - came at me to defend its den. I bolted, yelling for help and running as fast as I could, but it was much faster than I was, and at the moment that it caught me (with giant, furry paws around my waist) and latched its jaws onto my lower spine in an attempt to rip it out, I woke up with a shout and a stitch in my back, which I can still feel six hours later (after another two hours of sleep).
I feel that this is not auspicious. And I still have no idea where the bear came from.
