disclaimer: this was writen while listening to Damien Rice's "The Blower's Daugher"

I'm having a day that feels like everything is picking up on my mood and perpetuating it. I am reletively sure we create our own reality and I am doing it myself... yes, Data is seeing threes everywhere and reality suddenly makes sense.
Last night I dreamed an odd dream (what's new there?) but  through out the dream I was looking for something to drink. I was going through cupboards looking for coffee. I drank cranberry juice, went to the fridge to get some orange pineapple juice, was handed a glass of water, and saw someone making a pitcher (yes, plastic pitcher) of dark coffee with a layer of creamer on top. When it was poured, it gave up just the right amount of coffee and creamer and combined itself. Somewhere in there I realized that choosing to never drink anything would be a slow, painful way to die. I woke up.
My son got out of his pj's this morning. They were a sleeper that I had removed the feet from and cut a little v in the back of the collar so I could put them on him backwards - he'd still be comfy but wouldn't be able to take them off. Ha. Ha. Turns out the little v in the collar was just enough room for him to Houdini out of them and well... we've seen this mess before.
After he had a bath and was settled in the high chair with his breakfast, my (WONDERFUL) hubby cleaned up the crib while I took a shower. Somehow it wasn't as refreshing as I thought it would be, my coffee wasn't as good as I'd been craving in my dream, and my daughter was a grouch when I came back out. Never mind that, I should be in a good mood, or at least not a total grouch, so I got the kids settled, tidied up a bit and then started catching stuff up on the computer.
I'm a product of my noisy, technologically advanced society. I can hardly stand quiet. I love music. I had to have some tunes even if my kiddos were ensuring the house would in no uncertain terms be too quiet. Pandora Internet Radio? Me love it long time. I tuned in and it read my mind. I know that that's not one of the Pandora's creators claims. Yet somehow it read my mind, my mood, and started playing Damien Rice's The Blower's Daughter.... then David Grey, Other Side... then Coldplay, Fix You....
While I'm writing my mind is wandering back to things I usually avoid meditating on. My current thought is that one can learn from the past, mistakes or otherwise, chalk it all up to "experience" and do the best you can from there. What is the point in contemplating the what-ifs if it's beyond your power to actually change what happened? I've heard of people going back and changing a tiny detail of a memory to something better every time they think of it until one day, the memory is golden and comforting and happy and nothing near what really happened. Does this ease the soul? It must, if it's needed. Is there a time when this would be called for? Yes. Do I have anything that calls for that? No, unless I've already suppressed it, and have no idea. What if one needs a firm grip on reality one day in the future but lost it in all th flips and switches and imaginings of the past?

Dream: the one where i mostly watch it like a movie, a friend is living with two possesed dolls and there's a giant house being built

Last night I dreamed:
     I was leaving a house. It's an older, single level small home with a rickety wooden screen door that doesn't make any noise as it falls closed while I leave. I step off of the old boardwalk that runs the length of the house front and walk away. I know there is something there I am yet to accomplish - I'm putting it off.
    A few more steps down the dusty dirt road and I'm standing in, then just watching, a semi-futuristic hospital room. My friend Anwen is there, she's a nurse, listening intently to a doctor's instructions that I cannot hear. I see her nodding, yes, sir. I'm not surprised to see her, I know she's just moved back to the area and just getting started  as a nurse here. As the the doctor leaves, the patient watches Anwen's face as she turns to him- she's his life line here, he's very weak. Over all though, he doesn't look ill to me. Actually, he appears in excellent physical health, muscular, lightly tanned, golden blonde hair, intelligent eyes. They both exude a sweet innocence as they stare into each other's eyes. I can feel as clearly as though I could see some sort of electrical bond, a glowing blue force binding them together: in that look, they know fates are tied, nothing will separate them. Watching as an unseen presence, they talk, several days have passed while I watched here. He'll be discharged soon, if only they can hide their bond to each other and maintain the expected nurse-patient appearance. They have a plan. As he leaves, I am at Anwen's side. She smiles - she knew I would be there, to go with her.
   I follow her as we follow her steps in the plan. Go out the hallway and then we are on the way to a small antique town. We arrive by an old white school house church. It's the same one from Little House in the Prairie, the hill it sits on cut and pasted into a heavily wooded area. We head towards a steeply arced wooden bridge and the view changes, I'm watching alone from above the other side of the bridge as a wagon comes up from the school side.
   Russell Crowe is in an old buckboard wagon with the director of the new Robin Hood movie he's staring in (Crowe is working on a Robin Hood movie right now in RL, btw). Russell is dressed as Robin and the director, who is holding the reigns, is Friar Tuck. As they come over the top of the bridge about to start their descent, I worry how the two horses will handle the wagon and not be crushed by it. I picture their back legs bending under the press of the wagon. Then I feel Friar's reassurance, This is how it was always done! Everything will be fine. Actually, we'll be crossing several bridges that were built much like this one on the way. He's reassuring Russel. I get the impression of the hooves beating down on the bridge boards allegro staccato and the two lean sharply back from the momentum.
   I move on towards the right, heading to the town, a wisp floating to where I'll be watching next. I'm in the main section of town, passing over the house I left earlier. It's now the first house I come to, on the left side of the dirt road. I never see the buildings on the right. Someone is in that house. I should go back... instead I continue on, descending as I come to a five level house under construction. This is the house the community is building for Anwen and her handsome patient. He's very important to them - honored even. As I float down, it's night, bright stars are visible above the dense pine trees surrounding the town.
   I join Anwen on the third level, where she is getting ready. She points, my room is just down the unfinished hall. I can see the stars through the walls - there is just boards and yellow electrical wires. The walls are unfinished and I know if I were to look up, I would see through the next two floors to the completely finished roof. I get settled in. There are boxes and a sleeping bag on the floor. Everyone has been assigned a room and each room is expected to sleep at least two. I wonder at it in confusion for a moment, but am assured by Anwen's plan. I go down to the area in the front of the house and meet with some of the town folk. We move as a group to a modern high school cafeteria. The tables are in the back and the chairs are set up facing the end of the room where the school band has been arranged to play a welcoming concert for Anwen. I sit at her left in the front row. I don't hear the concert, but when it is finished, she must leave to get back to her room. I can hear the bustle of the crowd now as I look around the room. My husband in RL is suddenly at my side, carrying our young son, our daughter beside us. It's time to go back to the house. You know what needs to be done. He impresses this to me as he lays a hand on my arm.
   We walk back up the road to the house I left earlier. The brother of a close friend answers the door. Since our friend died, there have been two demons that have been visiting the house, causing unrest. They make their presence known by entering two large dolls that are normally just animated toys. I leave everyone in the front room as I follow the dolls into the kitchen. Suddenly they both stop, falling down. I can see myself standing by the cooking fireplace while one doll lies limp on the table, the other on a chair further in. They slowly become animated again and I know the two spirits have come. I've something to do to change their course, and free the home for the brother.
Dream over.

anything is possible when you are five

Good ol' technology. With it, I can order a pizza while I'm sitting in my pj's in Idaho to be delivered in somewhere in Texas for my hubby and have it delivered within the hour. Unfortunately, my five year old thought that we'd get a duplicate of the pizza delivered here. When I told her to go get in bed, her eyes welled up with tears and she said, "Mama, I wanted pizzzzaaaah!" Poor baby. I suppose if we hadn't already eaten dinner and I had a lot of extra cash or something, I could in theory order the same order to be delivered here too, from our the pizza place local to us. But no, I'm not going to. I explained that if they delivered the pizza here for Daddy's dinner it would be pretty old and gross when he got home, and he'd still be hungry right now. That seemed to make sense to her so she moved on and convinced me that it was a great idea to let her stay up and watch an episode of Star Trek DS9 on DVD with me.