did I really dream that?

I took yesterday off work as I was unable to sleep the night before. It wasn't the usual reason (asthma); instead, I simply couldn't sleep. Every once in a while I go into a bit of a frustrated sulk as I feel I'm tied down by my own possessions and the related costs of them, mainly my house. Then I lie awake trying to think of ways to escape Chez Melina without simply walking away from it.

Although this doesn't make a lot of sense - one has to live somewhere - it still happens now and again. But I always get over it in a day or two.

After spending the morning in bed, I set out to learn video editing. Recently I had been given a new freelance project, which was to edit an existing video presentation about new garage building procedures. After some false starts I was able to edit the video myself with no assistance, replacing the corporate information at the end of it. Then I e-mailed it to Ian's office for his approval and went to bed.

Early this morning, I had a dream in which I met several friends for brunch. Although I was in Sydney, the friends who appeared were people who live in Texas. A designer I used to work with presented me with a birthday cake with white icing, which was oddly pink and tasteless inside. We were at an outdoor cafe; these are common in Australia.

I eventually noticed that the store next to us wasn't really a store - it was an odd condo building with glass walls. You could literally see the occupants inside. I looked closer and realized I could see Dismissed Date* in one of the units, asleep in an Ikea-decorated condo. Everything was white. What was even stranger is that he had a dog as a pet, wandering around the bed as if he were waiting for DD to wake up. In real life, he doesn't really like dogs.

Later on, a young, dark-haired woman emerges with the dog on a leash. The dog wants to come over to our table for attention. It's a large Airedale mix. She seems to be DD's girlfriend, but nobody speaks to her, although we all pet the dog.

When the brunch is over, I walk down some stairs to a basement car park. I'm almost knocked down by a young man being pursued by a policeman. When I arrive in the car park, I realize that I don't know how I got there. Was I driving my bimmer, or my motorcycle? But then I spot the car.

Besides the fact that I usually dream about my past - I suspect my subconscious is trying to perform a memory defrag/delete operation - I am clueless as to why I dreamed this. I haven't spoken to DD in well over a year now, and all email ceased in late 2009.

My only guess as to why the dog was in the dream is that Brett (DD's ex-business partner, who fired him a few months ago - see previous postings) recently told me that DD had hitched up with someone else in mid-2009, and it had quickly turned into a co-dependent relationship. Brett was not wild about the situation as DD kept going on about how rich his current girlfriend's parents were, and what she stood to inherit. In the meantime he was shacking up with her in the suburbs with her children. This was hard for me to visualize, like his owning a dog.

When I asked Brett if he were talking about the same DD I had dated in 2008, he said "This is always how he is with women. He's like a relationship chameleon; he always reacts to his girlfriends by imitating them."

All of this puzzled me when I heard it, but it also made me feel especially glad our relationship hadn't progressed. I just wonder how he would have acted towards me if I hadn't been so emotionally distant. I suspect the relationship would have ended considerably sooner.

* see Key to Characters at right.

Is there an editorial version of a Darwin award?

While I generally have no problem discussing healthcare reform with my more conservative friends - we're grownups and generally manage to avoid head-butting each other - I get annoyed when the more conservative publications start clutching at straws, desperate for a new way to scare the proletariat into agreement.

A fellow blogger/visitor spotted this embarrassing woopsie recently:

You’ve got things like Investor’s Business Daily running an editorial that said:
People such as scientist Stephen Hawking wouldn’t have a chance in the U.K., where the National Health Service would say the life of this brilliant man, because of his physical handicaps, is essentially worthless.

The editors at IBD* need a pants-down spanking for not checking out Hawking's passport. He's English. And Hawking bumped up the embarrassment factor with this comment to the UK's Guardian newspaper:

“I wouldn’t be here today if it were not for the NHS. I have received a large amount of high-quality treatment without which I would not have survived.”

I still hold that Americans are always going to have unique problems with healthcare reform, as our healthcare expectations are so different.  I consider myself extremely fortunate to have tried out the NHS, Australia's Medicare system, and a couple of other countries' healthcare services in person. I just wish I could explain them a bit better.  (I liked the Aussie system the best.)

For example, my oncologist friend's gross annual income is seven figures.  Yes, I know he doesn't get to keep it all, but he is not living under a bridge either.  I can't think of another country in the world where he'd make that much money. But doctors in other countries don't expect seven-figure salaries, and they're living comfortably, so they're not fretting excessively. No more than the rest of us, anyway.

I don't have an opinion of the new healthcare legislation yet for two reasons: I haven't had time to read the final version, and I think it's one of those "wait and see how it pans out" things. Besides, people got just as upset when Medicare debuted, so I figger I might as well let the furore die down.

question

Why do I always come home from shaolin class thinking about sex? I can't decide if it's the endorphins, the sense of accomplishment, or all the times I have to say "sir" to the instructor.

Things don't improve when I get home. By the time I've had a shower and dried my hair, I'm practically ready to slip into some draughty lingerie and roam the streets. Or Half-Price Books.

the libertine springs forth

Perhaps it's because I slept especially well last night. Perhaps it's because I spent the weekend doing some of my favorite things, including some solitary and rewarding bird-watching. Or perhaps it's because there was no PD* at work today; she phoned in sick, and the weather was perfect for convertible owners. All in all, it was an enjoyable Monday.

Shaolin class was good; I was able to make the 6:00 class. My favorite instructor usually teaches this one, and he was in attendance today.  He is one of the toughest instructors, but I always leave with a sense of reward and accomplishment, even if I leave limping and with sore ankles.

My biker beau Ryan, excited because I'd passed my motorcycle course, wanted me to drive down to Austin last Friday night and go riding with him Saturday. But I decided against it, partly because I suspect he wants to buy me a motorcycle. During our last conversation, he quizzed me a bit too much about bike styles, seat heights, and peg placements.

It's a gift that is tempting but would also make me uncomfortable. The prospect of his presenting me with a shiny new bike made me feel like a cautious fish eying a particularly tasty bait, but with the large and shiny hook much too visible. Remember, this is a man who I've kissed a few times, but not gone any further with.

It's not like I think he expects me to sleep with him in exchange for a motorcycle. And I like him. But I'm not entirely sure how the gift would change the status of the relationship. Plus, I think he is looking for permanency, and I am not.

It's not like I have no capacity for affection, or for commitment. I never cheated on either husband when we were together. But I just can't see myself giving up my quest for passion and adventure this year.

My only slight concern is that I realized this afternoon that I have not heard from ODD* in a while. I hope he's well, and his mother is well. Perhaps he's simply given up quirky mistresses for Lent.

* See Key to Characters at right.

A gas station I will not be patronising any time soon