It will be nice to have my five day weekend from school. Last week was pretty tumultuous, and between school, schoolwork, work and housework, I was drowning. When I went to bed, I slept hard, not waking up if Tim got up to feed the fire. I could not rouse myself when there were two bears treed in the back yard. Tim came up with regular 'live-from-the-scene' reports and I moaned into my pillow, "that dog will never stop barking if those bears don't come down!" and "I'm tiiiiiiired," and eventually my husband shot the one in the cherry tree with the BB gun, and he came flying out of the tree and, seeing him moving out, the other scrambled down and took off right behind him. Fine by me. The dog got bored at all the quiet, and went home. By the time that Tim got in the house and checked the fire, and came back to bed, I was sound asleep once again and never even heard him.
So I've been working hard, and sleeping hard and not a lot of anything else. I don't have time to read the newspaper any more. I've finally given in and have my laundry sitting in the living room. That way I can stop and fold laundry for ten minutes, and then go back to work. Doing the big tasks in short bursts is the only way for me to get things done any more. I just don't have a lot of time to spend in one place. (Unfortunately for you folks, I am a very fast typist...)
In any case, after the latest drama in the world of group projects, after all the agonizing and feeling terrible, after seeing my advisor, after digesting her sensible advice, after going to work, and then working intensely on one of my projects, I went to bed and I dreamed a dream.
"Last night I dreamed I went to Manderly again."
Okay. No. I didn't.
I dreamed that I was making a dish for a pot luck supper, and I drove to someone's house in a terrible storm. When I arrived, the hostess did not have her part of the meal made, and so I stood at the window watching the storm as she rushed around the kitchen. The trees were being whipped about in the wind. One closest to the window bent more and more, so close that I could hear the tree actually creaking as it was bent in the storm. I thought to myself, "If that tree breaks, it will come right through this window," but I stood there and watched it, curious at what would happen next. And then I woke up.
Boy. If only I could figure out what that meant.
The potluck supper = group project.
The unprepared hostess = my class mate.
It made me laugh a little, the transparency of this dream, and I fell back asleep once again, pondering on the fact that although the tree outside the window bent and creaked, she did not snap and break.