riley702

Dammit!

I thought it was good.

What? Are you referring to her hair being different or her face being different?

Oh, that's horrible. I'd be tempted to be waiting for the dogs with a shotgun.

In another cancer dream, my PURSE is me. Dream 07/20/2010 I was in an enormous mall and impulsively went into a LensCrafters to browse. I lost my purse and spent some time in the store looking for it. There were LOTS of purses, just not mine. I eventually picked one of the others and carried on. I wandered a little farther in the mall and got lost. I eventually found this big, plastic, folding map 2 or 3 feet across that showed where I was. I was a long way from where I started. Like, blocks away. Several buildings away, although I hadn't thought I'd left the first building. As I wandered, trying to find my way back, I would find various family members, get separated from them, find them again, get separated again, etc. I heard an announcement over the loud speakers for me to call the LensCrafters, except they weren't calling themselves LensCrafters. I don't remember what the store was calling itself or how I knew it was them. I was trying to remember the number long enough to call them, but my cell phone was in pieces and I had to put it together and hold various pieces together to dial. When they answered and I asked for directions, they assumed I was where they'd left me and then started arguing between themselves about how best to direct me. I was yelling into the phone, trying to get their attention and tell them I was a long way from that first place, but couldn't get their attention as they continued to argue between themselves. That was when I woke up. I think this is another cancer dream. Why it was set in a mall, I'm not sure, but a LensCrafters store would be the closest thing to a medically-related store you might find in a mall. My purse is myself. That I couldn't find it and settled for another one refers to wanting to go back to the old me (pre BC), realizing I couldn't, and having to go on with a new me. Getting lost refers to my treatment choices, and the people arguing over how to lead me back to them represents me disagreeing with my docs over how best to treat me. They're not listening as I try to tell them I'm not where I was (mentally), but they're ignoring me; I'm not being heard.

It certainly seems so with me. When I was diagnosed with cancer the first time, I had a series of dreams about houses/my apartment at the time, that I decided were about my cancer and that the house was me. I wrote several down and this is the main one: Friday, March 5, 2010 at 2 am Nightmares I left the front door open/ I left the door unlocked and intruders came in and killed me. A reference to cancer? I'm forgetting something obvious? (referring to the door being open). I was in a house I owned (not here and not any real house I recognized, but I remember dreaming about this house of mine before). Now I'm living with a man (lover?) (friend?) - I'm not sure. There was some stupid 'narrator' in the dream saying I forgot to lock the door or (the man I was living with - no name) forgot to lock the door and we were both murdered by intruders. At that moment in the dream, I wake up in a panic when the narrator says that. I'm laying there trying not to move, trying to remember where my gun is or whether I can reach out and lock the door (which is now magically right beside the bed). And suddenly, two men in dark clothes are standing in front of me (too late!) with guns (rifles? They weren't handguns). And they came from inside the house, not through the door from the outside. I put both hands over my face, like, "I can't see you, I can't see you!" and lay there shaking, waiting for them to shoot me. The 'narrator' says, "Too bad (the guy I live with) woke up and startled them/woke up and yelled/woke up and grabbed for his own gun/(or something), because they might have let you live otherwise. But now, they'll kill you both." And then I woke up for real, remembering a fragment of another dream. In that one, I was here, in my real apartment and I'd been puttering, doing things around the house for hours until I suddenly realize it's pitch dark outside and I've got the curtains open. I then realize the front door is standing wide open as well, and I go running to shut and lock it. I think my subconscious is trying to tell me I'm leaving myself open or leaving myself vulnerable to harm (death?) I'm forgetting something that would keep me safe? (from what?) Related to the cancer? Something else? Or just "stress dreaming"? Or is there any such thing? Is it always your subconscious trying to work through something? I've read somewhere that your dreams can have some puns or wordplay related to the meaning. I think the example I read was a woman dreaming she was planting a garden, things were sprouting and she realized shortly after the dreams that she was pregnant. Anyway... I woke up and lay there for a minute trying to remember all the details because it seemed important, and then came running into the living room to find something to write it down with before it was gone. And now it's gone. I transcribed my scribbles from a legal pad to here for legibility, but tried not to "add" anything. I did try to remember stuff like details about this damned 'dream narrator', because that? was seriously annoying. Also, trying to pin down who this man I was living with was. I got the feeling I had been surprised to find him there earlier, but then he stayed like he belonged there. My feelings toward him are murkier. I didn't know who he was or who he was 'supposed' to be in the dream, so it's hard to pin down what his presence in the dream meant. Addendum: 03-06-2010 @ 12:30 pm - I think I'm blaming myself for getting cancer (left the door open/unlocked, too late to lock the door because the intruders are already inside). In the dream fragment, I'm just carelessly living my life while leaving myself open to danger, so the same meaning would apply. I think the man is my doctor or doctors, or perhaps everyone treating my cancer all rolled into one person, because I had been surprised to see him, but then he stayed like he belonged there. It would also explain not being able to pin down my feelings for him. Not hostile (I wondered if he was a friend/roomie), but not exactly romantic, either. And blaming him for the intruder killing me could be me not feeling in control; my fate is in someone else's hands, and their actions might get me killed. Oh, and the house I own is me! .

Just found this topic, and of course, thought of this:

What a piece of work, BookWoman! The nerve of telling a young person you have hand-selected mementoes from their deceased parent and then emptying all of your crap into boxes and sealing it up! Did she even think about his feelings when he opened it?

Yes, how dare they desecrate my favorite Bugs Bunny song ("Kill da wabbit")?

I'm by no means proficient, but maybe, "Bien joue, fille!", which means something like "Well-played, young lady!" This x 1,000. If I'm at all serious about the show, anyway. I remember eons ago one night at the hospital, a show was on and showed someone literally pulling the plug on a ventilator. Zero alarms went off. The EKG immediately went flatline, which did cause alarms, so now the killer holds the door shut as people beyond shout portentously, "We have to get in there! We only have 5 minutes!" When they did get in, a flurry of activity was accompanied by, "Give an amp of epi! Give an amp of bicarb! Well, I guess we've done all that we could do. Call it." The nurse and I had to explain to family members why we were howling with laughter. More fun hospital bloopers include someone with an oozing bloody scrape with no bandaging, or a patient still dirty from their accident the next day. And then there are the ones with simple nasal oxygen, but there is a ventilator in the background with an antique bellows whooshing away, or someone with a breathing tube thru their vocal cords whispering something dramatic. OK, I'll stop now, but some of these are so unrealistic, they're hilarious.

I've seen it as "Wandering children will be given espresso and a free kitten.", but there are variations like being given espresso and taught to swear, etc.

Get the heck outta Dodge! Oh, whew! Both are acceptable now: https://www.grammarphobia.com/blog/2011/04/dour.html Actually, the guitar-solo kid seems annoying, too. At the end, I'm sure Dad is wondering how to escape.

https://www.sciencealert.com/bacteria-cells-don-t-actually-outnumber-human-cells-in-our-bodies-study-finds

Or rap music.

Oh, the mini-series! Had to look that up because I was positive it was Lance Henriksen. Different tv series.

Delurker, brother #3 sounds like a winner! I'm being totally serious.

But your coffee wasn't cold! Score!

Is it possible to dream subconscious fragments of a Shakespearean play I didn't even remember reading? Sorta. There was a character in my dream (an old, Quaker-looking gentleman), and his name was Titus Timon, with lots of mention of his brother Truth. Imagine my surprise when I googled that and read the synopsis of Timon of Athens.

I'm tempted to say screw her. How long does the family need to tippy-toe around someone who keeps slapping them in the face? Disclosure - I have family members I've written off because of years-long shitty behavior like this.

Nothing latent about it. It's blatant misogyny. Coming from another woman, it is especially infuriating.

Hmm, just saw that promo for the new Planet of the Apes movie? Sounds like you two are headed to a rumble.

It's a small victory, but I went to the store without a head covering today. And no one batted an eye! My hair is somewhere around 1/4 to 1/2 inch long right now, and seems to be coming in white. OK... I've been wearing a scrub hat like they wear in OR for work. The few I've given a peek have complimented my "nicely-shaped" head. LOL. And so now, I've been totally checking out guys with shaved heads to see if they're "lumpy" or not. There have been a few lumpies.

Me, too! Wait, where is this truly criminals thread? I need to be there. I'm prone to mutter "GDMFSOB" under my breath at work - after all, they're just letters. Right? I had a button back in college (that has since disappeared - sob!) that read Shit Fuck Damn Piss Hell. I still say that, too. Quite satisfying, some days. <3 Aww, I'm sorry. I was traumatized as a child by sharing a birthday with Elvis. He was in his fat, bloated, lounge-lizard stage then. In my teens, I discovered his early music AND that David Bowie was born on Jan. 8th, too. RIP, gentlemen. You made my teen years more bearable.

I'm sorry, Sun-Bun, she sounds like a treat. As for the bolded, unless you have someone/something you want to leave a bequest to, this sounds ideal. It's not like you can take it with you. I say spend it all and die broke. Use it on what you want, and make you happy. Cheers!

I love you for knowing that!