The Cat's Out of the Bag -- and the Dream

The Dream: I was in a white room with a girl from work and her cat. At first this wasn't odd to me -- I had recently spoken with her about pet-sitting (her dogs). But then...I started to realize that she had on a blue, orange, and green sweater...and the cat's fur was blue, orange, and green as well. The cat came and played with me, and even though cats can often be indifferent, this cat really seemed to like me. It rested in my lap as I petted it's blue fur (the orange was stripes outlined in thin lines of green). I was really starting to like it.

When my coworker left (and I was supposed to take care of the cat) the blue kitty followed her out the door. I told her about it, but she didn't seem to care. She shrugged it off -- like the "it'll be back home eventually" shrug we gave when our childhood pets ran out the front door.

I waited and waited. The cat never came back. And I couldn't forget it's blue and orange fur -- this cat was obviously unique, and I didn't think I would ever find another like it. I finally got in my car and drove around for hours and hours looking for it. I wanted to find it SO badly. I don't think I ever did.

Trusty dream dictionary symbolism interpretations: The blues represented negative feelings, orange respresented balance of emotion and intellect or religious feelings or insight, and the green represented healing or positive change. And the cat? It represents physical contact and affection and the need to be cared for and to have warm affection.

The Rundown: Even though I knew it wasn't mine to keep, I was given a little physical contact and affection. When it left, others told me I'd get it again. And even though I have negative feelings about love and affection, I am truly hoping to find someone who could give me that affection while also sharing intelligence and religious feelings with me. Perhaps I'm looking for it and hoping it will bring me some positive change...whatever the reason, I want it more than I realize.

Five Days of War

In five days I did what I hadn't done in months. I finished an adult novel (and by adult, I don't mean porn, but not young adult, aka one that I would teach). Last Wednesday, I bought Jarhead and finished it last night. Now, I realize this may not seem like a typical book for me, but I had good reasons to read it:
1. I wanted to see the movie, and if it's a based-on-a-book movie, I like to read the book first.
2. I could procrastinate writing my own book.
3. I thought it would be good to analyze another memoir before starting my own.
4. War books and movies are intriguing to me. I think maybe it's because in some way I hope they help me understand what my father went through in Vietnam.

As I read the book, I decided I would not be friends with author Anthony Swofford if I were to meet him; he's arrogant, and in all honesty, I find it hard to find commonalities with those who've chosen to join the full-fledged armed forces. But I wouldn't mind sitting in on a lecture given by him. He's a well-trained writer (went to the Iowa Writer's Workshop), and it baffles me that he thought he could never go to college (he spent much of his free time in the desert reading The Iliad). He uses great literary elements throughout, and most of all, he makes the characters human (well, at least the male characters; all the females -- excpet his mom -- are basically whores or prostitutes).

And because now that the movie is out, I doubt many of you will actually read the book, but you should. It will make you think. And think. And ponder. Because you haven't read it (or you'll probably stop reading this blog about now), here's some of the quotes that stuck out to me...for whatever reason:
p. 6-7 "Vietnam war films are all pro-war, no matter what the supposed message...because the magic brutality of the films celebrates the terrible and despicable beauty of their fighting skills. Fight, rape, war, pillage, burn. Filmic images of death and carnage are pornography for the military man."
p. 49 "'Yes, he [my father] lived. He spoke once about Vietnam.' [Swofford]
'If he only spoke once, he wasn't lying.' [Staff Sergeant]"
p. 172 "Already, I recognized the incompatibility of religion and the military. The opposite of this assertion seems true when one considers the high number of fiercely religious military people, but they are missing something. They're forgetting the mission of the military: to extinguish the lives and livelihood of other humans.
What do they think all of those bombs are for?"
p. 207 "'I'm not stronger than you, but I know some things about the military that they don't show you in the brochures.' [Swofford's father]"
p. 213 "But I think his hug idea is sound, and eventually everyone in the platoon has hugged Welty. We are about to die in combat, so why not get one last hug, one last bit of physical contact. And through the hugs, Welty has helped make us human again."
p. 222 "If colonialism weren't out of style, I'm sure we'd take over the entire Middle East."

Can't wait to see the movie. Just hope these dreams of being in a war zone are over.

The Dream Sequence

I had another memorable dream last night. I went some place (shopping I think), and I parked my truck in a parking garage. As I drove past the attendant, he looked at me a little odd. I felt a bit paranoid about parking so close to him, but I like to not have to walk far. When I came back out, I saw a tow truck quickly drive into the garage and then drive away with a gray Ford Ranger (my type of vehicle). The driver hadn't had to go far to get the automobile, and the attendant waved and laughed as the driver sped off with the truck in tow.

I raced back to my parking spot. It was gone. My truck had been stolen. Somehow, in my dream I knew the tow-truck driver wasn't really a tow-truck driver; she was faking it. And she and the attendant had plotted and were making off with my truck.

So, what does this one mean? Well, apparently theft when the thieves don't NEED it (i.e. not stealing food from me to survive) means that I'm either being taken advantage of, or that I have a fear of that happening. The act of thievery may symbolize a loss or invasion.

. . . or it can mean that someone (or I fear that someone) is "capitalizing on vulnerability." What? Are my dreams really that telling of what's going on in my head? Nah . . . I mean, all I remember was the feeling of utter despair and repeatedly yelling, "I was too close. I was too close. I knew I was too close!" interspersed with "I'm so stupid. I knew better!"

What was Mychy thinking when she told me I had intimacy issues? How wrong was she!

Where'd That Come From?

I went home to AV. I lay on a coach. I put a towel underneath me. I felt some rumbling in my tummy. Then I gave birth.

It was a bizarre dream that I had last night. I remembered in my dream holding the baby to my chest and explaining to my mother that really, I hadn't had sex with anyone in January. This was impossible. Oddly, she didn't care. In my dream, she was just excited to have a grandchild (which I think would be her probable reaction with her recent bout with MS).

Today at work I looked up what it meant to have a dream about giving birth. One bogus site told me that it meant an acting out of my desires or fears and that good news was to follow. I'm not one to think that dreams are predictors, so I kept looking. Another site told me that myself giving birth is a sign of a new idea or new project. It's a symbol of a fresh start. I suppose this whole career-change-thing is quite a fresh start. That's obviously what it meant. Right?

Oddly enough, though, the burning memory of my dream was the fact that the pregnancy didn't cause me to gain weight. I remembered marveling aloud how childbirth hadn't affected my belly or hips and saying "That's what happens when you have them young!" Good to know I'm vain even in my dreams.

Sex Toys and Dreams

Yesterday I went with two friends to a store selling all forms of sex toys. Now, let me tell you, the only time I've been in a store such as this has been to buy gag gifts for bridal showers. This time, however, said friends were actually considering buying things for themselves. This was a new side to "toy" shopping for me. I, however, could not get the image out of my head of my oldest sister. (Yes, this is not going to be quite as risque as the title sounds) When I was about nine, I recall a time when my oldest sister (the one I never talk about or sometimes leave out of the sibling count) left the house to live somewhere else. My mother was cleaning out her room and discovered a vibrator in a purse in her closet. Silence. Uncomfortable moment between mother and me. Mother quickly puts it away and thinks I don't know what it is. So, this is what I thought of repeatedly as we perused the fun of Babeland.

When I slept last night, I had a dream of this oldest sister. This is weird for many reasons. I have not seen her since I was a senior in high school. The last time I spoke with her was when I 20 -- she called me in my dorm room at college; I convulsed in tears during the entire conversation and refused to talk to anyone for hours. So, I rarely think of her -- out of sight, out of mind. But, when I do, I become confused about things like life, family and love.

For whatever reasons she couldn't take her life in Missouri. She walked out on us: parents who gave everything they could (physically and monetarily) to help her, sisters who joked around with her, and a son that still does not understand why she left without a goodbye. She had left many times (as evidenced by the time when she was 19), but she always came back. But something in her changed in her late 20s. She married a jerk, and he controlled her life. Now, she has chosen to be unfindable. My parents finally adopted her son a couple of years ago; even a private investigator couldn't track her to sign the papers.

So, obviously this person is a source of confusion for me. I am baffled at how someone can turn their back on people who obviously loved them for a need for romantic love -- she was always one for showing low self-esteem, but being with her second husband was the clencher. Her desire to feel desired overpowered everything else. I am also baffled at how we as people can love someone who does not love us back. Bafflement #3: how we can say we aren't hurt when people do not love us back. For the past six years I've been brushing her off in conversations. I attribute her actions to serious mental problems (which I no doubt believe could be there), and I say it doesn't matter any more. But my dream last night made me think about how I truly feel. For the past few years I've thought about using my stealthy journalism skills to track her down (I have an unfailing confidence in my research abilities), but I don't even know what I would say if I found her. I don't even know if I would want to say anything. For all I know, her downward spiral of self-hatred and drug use has produced someone who will only use me for money (that is why she called me when I was 20).

Last night, though, there was Leslie showing up unexpectedly at Christmas (which happened a couple of times while I was in high school). She looked just like she did when I was in middle school. Everyone in the family was happy to see her. She gave us all gifts and hugs. The family was big and happy. It was as though no time had passed. The dream ended with her leaving and me rushing over to her. Before she left, I pulled out a picture I have in an album at my parents' home. In it, I'm three, Trina's six, Leslie's 13 -- we're all truly smiling. "See, I never forgot you!" I tell her. "I'm glad you're home."