Post 258: Relatives and nightmares.
I don’t think this a good time to write my blog — but I up so here goes.
I was call a Trojan today. A force to reckoned with, well I don’t think so after my nightmare tonight, more like useless force of ant fart.
I’m waking now and know already that my Darling has thrown herself in the room and killed the dream, kissed me and told me I was alright and left me in a state of tearful relief.
I’ve only had two extra doses of Oramorph today which is a big improvement on 5 the previous day but these nightmares I could do without.
I don’t want my dream read! that’s like having tea leaves read, stupid, though I do love a nice cup of tea.
I’m coming-round and I feel a little more with-it, but I will say that I’ll keep a tissue close by just in case of reruns.
———
(Breakfast earlier in the day)
I was treated to a ma-hoo-sive breakfast this morning.
Before that my Darling sat beside me all cold and sleepy and told me that if I wanted to go out later that there’s a shower waiting for me, in the room, next-door.
I’ve gotta say it’s been a while since I switched on the shower and enjoyed the shower—even the shower seat (which is provided for useless articles like myself to safely sit on) thinks I’ve became water-shy of late, and that might be to do with the air-walking disaster a week ago (the irresponsible back flip) and the less said about that the better.
So the question was what do I want to do with my day? “I’ll drive you anywhere you like”, she says bravely, “what about Bro in law & Big-Sis and Little Bro with Sis in law and the kids?”. “If you do then talk to them now and sort it out please” she ended with. That told me.
Anyway, I duly accepted the challenge and hoped they’d all be in…
So I needed to navigate the shower and being appointment secretary to check if we were welcome or not.
The shower worked well, just as I had remembered and the “yes” came back from both siblings.
The only snag with Little Bro’s visit would not be the fresh air, we would be forced to endure certain smells due to an unblocking of their loo a little before we arrived. But there was no worries by the time we got there except the cold fresh air coming through the open windows. Last nights party was a cracker apparently.
With enough said we tucked into a big multi-pack of wonderful border cookies chased down by a few cups of refreshing tea - Yum yum - putting the world to rights.
We were then bundled around to Big Sis and Bro in law and that was great too. The chatting was easy and crossed the political borders of Ireland easily (and without firearms ha ha). Their youngest now lives in Antrim and all my Darlings relatives are from Co Meath. So from weddings to funerals, cakes to gardens we were busy little bees processing the family nectar.
Big Sis’s place looked like a Christmas store with all the twinkling bits and lights displayed. It’s only now heading home we are aware of the end to the Christmas season.
Most of our decorations are down but some are there till the sixth, you’ve gotta leave something up, as tradition and luck dictates. We don’t need anymore bad luck.
———
(After the nightmare - at the end of the day)
Thank god. The nightmare is virtually gone with the help of another few hours of trash tv.
There’s something sweet about the ability to adjust one’s feelings with Netflix at night.
At night my ghouls come out while I sleep and, for me, there’s a subtlety in Netflix throwaways that soothes the soul.
The only other place I get so much therapy is at the hospice where I can spill the beans of my inner thoughts.
Although I don’t actually know how to do that.
I’m just glad there’s a side to me that is able to calm myself in the darkness of a confused and secret morphine stupor.
Where are we without a telegraph pole to pee on. Dogs mark their territory, but are they doing more? Are they getting rid of their need to tell everyone or someone their anxieties.
Is a frenzied exchange of dogs on that same footpath meaning that they’re having a conversation about the remains of their suitability, or a bit of sexual history.
Where am I going with this?
I’m wondering why I can talk over deep and powerful problems of how I feel about my life waning with a stranger, when with another stranger it’s easier to tell?
Yes I’m taking about you. Yep. You.
Next week I’ll have to face the counsellor and I haven’t really got my head around “why the blogettes are profoundly different to speak to than the studied people of science (the counsellors)”.
Maybe that’s a better question to ask next time at the hospice, with the counsellor than how do I feel?
———
So in moments of pure clarity tonight I’ve enjoyed comfort from my one true love and confidant, then, in a panic to see myself more clearly about scenting a pole or two to see if anyone’s on the same page as me or seeing another me through the eyes of a Netflix trashy series even I think is “not really me”.
Are you still with me? If you’re not then don’t re-read, it’s not worth it. Just Cary on till you find a sentence that you can cope with.
A sentence where to understand it you need to be coming down from the pain and stress thresholds I’m normally trying to hold together a “normal” life, when, like another Russian doll beneath this one your looking at is hiding a jangling bag of bones and nerves that has no idea of what’s next for me and my Darling.
Maybe I’m closer now to having that conversation with the counsellor.
where I could pop open some smaller dolls and dust around a bit before replacing them with the old me. The me I should be. The me that like me. The me that loves life.
“Oh, the times beaten us again Mr U. Perhaps next time you could tell me more about those dolls? or the telegraph pole communications? Very interesting”.
———
I’ve had no drugs at all for eight hours.
So was that me or not?
———
Good night all.
