I Had A Dream
Not as inspiring as the dream spoke of by the great Martin Luther King Jr., yet a dream none the less.
I spend my wide awake time rationalizing my fears, breaking them down and finding solutions. It is quite simple; When I fear that I am going to be late for work, I assess the traffic dilemma, pick an alternative route, and call the office. No biggie.
When I fear the knock on the door might be the DOD with bad news about my son; I work thru the anxiety attack by breathing slowly, forcing myself to remain calm, and slowly taking a peek thru the door. (Door to door sales people need to be shot… ) Ok, that is harsh. I just don’t need people knocking on my door in the evenings. Sets my hair on edge every time.
When I fear anything, I try to slowly work thru the mess. One fear at a time. I will conquer this. I can objectionably see the insanity of my constant stress.
David, has been to Iraq before and he came home safely. This fact alone made it easier to squelch the fears this time.
They go, they come home. Simple right?
I have worked this out in my conscious thought patterns… and then Whammmmmie!
I Had A Dream!
I don’t even want to put the dream in writing. It was bad and I woke up in tears. How can I win this game in my head if my subconscious is going to sabotage me?
I need to find my “happy place.” I’m just not sure where that is at the moment. I suppose I will start with a healthy dose of chocolate and check out some humor sites on the web.
Laughter and chocolate can cure just about everything I am told.
Perhaps I should lighten this with a little funny: (No, I did not verify the story… didn’t want to ruin the thought that it could be real!)
Fiction has nothing on the great state of Florida A news article from a Florida Newspaper (the Sun Sentinal) read …
“When Nathan Radlich’s house was burgled, thieves left his TV, his VCR, and even left his watch. What they did take was “… generic white cardboard box filled with grayish-white powder.” (That at least is the way the police described it.)
A spokesman for the Fort Lauderdale police said “that it looked similar to cocaine and they’d probably thought they’d hit the big time.”
Then Nathan stood in front of the TV cameras and pleaded with the burglars: “Please return the cremated remains of my sister, Gertrude. She died three years ago.”
Well, the next morning, the bullet-riddled corpse of a drug dealer known as Hoochie Pevens was found on Nathan’s door step. The cardboard box was there too; about half of Gertrude’s ashes remained. And there was this note.
It said: “Hoochie sold us the bogus blow, so we wasted Hoochie. Sorry we snorted your sister. No hard feelings. Have a nice day.” 🙂