Shipped Out

I am so happy Memorial Day weekend is over! Whew!! Holiday weekends are always marathons for me workwise (everyone else is on vacation, so it's easy for them to come in for a massage). I book myself solid at times like this, because one must make hay while the sun shines. But it's inevitable that I'll feel like a salmon swimming upstream. Everyone else is relaxing; I'm working hard. This particular Memorial Day was especially strenuous because of my shamanic/psychic/psychotic (which?) involvement with the dead soldiers.

Dream: I am playing poker and smoking cigarettes with blog friends, all men. We're yucking it up, doing shots of some kind of liquor. The whole scene is hazy with smoke. We're all greasy and sweaty. At one point, one of my very favorite friends pulls up his pant leg and shows me that he has a crutch instead of a leg from the knee down. He laughs, says, "I'm so good, no one even knows." He shoves the crutch back into his ass kicking boots and continues playing. Another friend is talking about how, when the pain got too bad, he did a morphine overdose. "It was all over, just like that!" He snaps his fingers and chuckles.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting up straight in my bed, wide awake. I've never smoked cigarettes in my life, that was the first thing that struck me. Two seconds later I said out loud, forcefully: "DUDES! Get out of here! Go down to the memorials! I mean it." Right at that moment, really - just after I said that - there was one loud boom of thunder (I was unaware of the lightning). I know that part was real because Jake jumped off his chair and went to hide in the bathroom. After that, I felt that whatever was unfolding had ended. I had no trouble falling asleep.

I'm always the first to admit that I might have a few screws loose. Shamans are not known, historically, for their balanced personalities. Or maybe those dead soldiers really did come to visit me in my dreams, dressed up to look like men I love dearly in "real" life, to make themselves especially appealing. Or, maybe not. But what about that clap of thunder? You can't plan for that kind of timing. Either way, as I like to say, my life is SO interesting.

Hail and farewell dear ones. Sweet dreams to all.