actually it's a balloon that's popped but one just doesn't say 'pop goes the balloon'; it doesn't work, it's too ridiculously obvious somehow. and we mustn't be ridiculous or obvious, must we? that might expose us as human, make us too much like everyone else or something. or maybe it's just that we'd get a glimpse of our own humanness, that embarrassing condition of being. we use the royal 'we', because there does seem to be safety in numbers somehow, and comfort. there's got to be some benefit to having multiple personalities, since the condition exists. wouldn't it be nice if we could choose our conditions? I mean, choose while we're conscious of what it would mean to humanly live them, not choose beforehand when we have to first forget the reason we're choosing them before we actually get to live them. hey, italics are cool, very useful expressive device.

I spent a good part of today dreaming. well I happened to be asleep at the time, so that makes sense. I do love dreaming, actually; I've always had some really wild & wonderful, crazy technicolour dreams. some of them are just good stories, useful in so many ways.

there are a few dreams I've had that I remember most specifically, even though they're years old. would you like to hear about them? I think you would, if only because I want to tell them. it's easier than telling the other just now, easy to slide into another reality; my rational brain's on shut-down & I'm quite willing to be distracted. where's a mic when you need one?

the kitchen fluorescents are flashing like seedy restaurant lighting, the night is dim without & I imagine I'm in a diner somewhere in the middle of a hot southern night, telling you unexplainable mysteries of life.


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one night I found myself at a party. it was in an old barn that had been converted into a nightclub. it was blinding white on the outside, but dark as hell on the inside. blackened windows... you must enter and participate to solve the mystery of what lies beyond.

we were all hilarious, having the best time dancing and drinking, carousing. there was a spiral staircase spanning all the way from the brilliantly-lit top floor bistro to the dark bowels of the underground disco, flashing electric sparks of neon, absorbed into the spirit and released on the dance floor. the whole night is a jumble of impressions spanning from top floor to bottom, from intensive bouts of earnest conversation over capuccino to primal connection in the form of mind-altered, pseudo-sexually provocative movement. there's a choice to be made, decisions to be formed, but it's too easy to just let go and follow the moment.

I lose my way during a trip down the spiral, and find myself outside in suddenly still, moonlit clarity. immediately I feel the implications; this is a spiritual fortress, not a nightclub. I run to escape, but the forces that be don't want me to leave. we chase through dark streets, yards of rustling bug-inhabited undergrowth and emerge into lamp-lit universes of suburbia. everything is still; I am torn, unable to move one way or the other, feeling the threat of imminent danger creeping up on me from I know not which direction. leathery dark wings flap suddenly and enfold me momentarily, talons digging into my shoulder at a slightly wrong angle to grip. poke and miss. I run again.

I'm back at the nightclub door. I don't want to go back in. I know there are things I must decide, before I can safely navigate this building again. ignorance is no longer a possible excuse for indecision. I stand waffling, knowing it's now or never... run again, or face the music. choose, or be chosen.

suddenly it's clear: if I enter here I can go up, or I can go down. it's a simple matter of where I'll find thinking more comfortable: in the light, or in the dark. that's easy - I go in the door, and up the staircase. there are my earlier dance partners, beckoning me to rejoin them. downstairs, upstairs, somewhere in between. it doesn't matter... they're where they're at, but I know I have to get to where I want to be. though the forces of their will are strong, my will is stronger; I just have to keep my mind on the goal. I know I could step down to enjoy the promising thrill of dark, syrupy sexuality but my mind is focused on squeaky-clean clarity. I continue to climb, resisting the pull of mindless, primal experience.

suddenly he appears at the bottom of the spiral, bellowing for me to come back where I belong. I fight the instinct to obey, knowing that although he once was in charge, it's my choice now. I can let him drag me back down, or I can continue to climb to the top. I am in control now... I can survive this. I continue to climb. fingers claw the cloth over my back, his minions whispering reminders of past glory in my ear as I pass. I push through the crowd insistently and they fall away behind me, screeching in confused, frightened anger as beatifically-glowing beings of light smile on me from above.

at the top of the spiral the membrane over the door gives way to my pressure easily and I enter the brilliantly lit doorway to cheers of bright beings beyond. love, light, and acceptance enfold me in their grace. white hot strength returns to my limbs after my arduous climb, confirming that I'm in the right place. I turn triumphantly to close the door of my choice, and find his dark, roiling presence on the other side. his magnetism is mighty and I am reminded that I once belonged with him, his pleasure the duty I felt to the depths of my very soul.

'ah, but it was your pleasure too,' he says, smiling in smug reminiscence.

'not now,' I reply.

'you're wrong,' he says, thick, dark brow lowering into a frown.

'not anymore,' I reply.

'you'll be back,' he says, gleaming hot, red arrogance from his eye to mine.

'not while I still have a choice,' I reply.

'you've always been mine, Laurie,' he says, surpremely confident as one never questioned.

'I'm mine,' I reply, and turn to the light against the face of his staunch surety.

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it's been a bad day. I'd just as soon find the switch to turn everything OFF. I don't feel like I've got either the strength or the desire to deal with everything I have to deal with right now. I like my denial, sometimes; it's always worked before when I've needed it. unfortunately, I don't have the benefit of true choice this time. deal or death. slice or dice. what kind of choice is that? oh alright, yes, it is at least a choice; it's just obvious which way I have to go, and it ain't down. no death, no dicing. we live to slice through these things. still, though I'm thankful for the clarity, I'm annoyed that I'm forced to apply it.

my doctor phoned to tell me the first of my tests have come back... seems I might have a bladder infection. uh?? how come I didn't notice this? and so I have to go back to the lab for another test to make sure, one way or the other.

I did some research on the net today about temporal arthritis... not good. there are too many parallels to be able to dismiss it as a possibility, though it's still only that. the real answer will come with return of the blood test, as that measures levels of certain chemicals or some such & I imagine such a test won't lie. treatment is something to do with steroids... great, just lovely. I know I shouldn't count chickens, so to speak, but sometimes, when you're waiting in the unknown and feeling miserable you just have to do something. knowledge is supposed to be power, but I don't feel empowered; I just feel helpless, and a bit angry that there's more to deal with, whatever it might be. I'm so tired of dealing with stuff. I'd like to know what it is I did - or didn't do - that put me in this place, now, having to deal with more. I just want to exist. is that really so much to ask? why do I have to keep proving my ability to get through it?

I bowed out of the Vernon trip to the paediatrician today, since I was feeling so crappy. slept a good part of the day away. Ray took Brennan & they returned to tell me about a new ketone meter (measures ketones more accurately - in the blood rather than having to wait for them to show in the urine) along with hundreds of details of new(ish) 'must-dos' that I could hardly begin to comprehend. waking from a hot, exhausted sleep to this overwhelmed me, and quite frankly I was pleased to escape to this quiet solitude of Gran's sleeping presence.

I really don't know how I'm supposed to get a job in the midst of all this, follow the rules and keep everybody happy too. I don't seem to have the energy just to do what needs to be done to support lifesigns, much less keep money coming into the household. will somebody please run my life for me? never mind, I refuse to give up my independence too, so I guess that won't work either. I'm just not sure it's possible to keep track of all that needs to be done, learn it all and do it all and function in the rest of the world, too. I'm afraid I'm going to have to become even more insular than I am already. after the recent taste of freedom and a decision to spread outwards again, it's almost torture to contemplate the need to stay in the same place & do it all again 100 times more concentrated.

I think I'll go back to sleep now.

(I was happier telling you a story... see? denial really works for me, at least in order to feel some happy. wish it worked with reality too. bloody life lessons. who made the rules for this game? I want a recount. I need your voice of reason, P.)

hahaha, ask & an answer is given, eh? I sound like Gran just sounded: 'I've got to get up to pee' (forgetting I've got a catheter).

now, if I could just remember what my catheter is and how I'm supposed to use it I'd really be laughing.

never mind, I am up to the challenge. I am invincible... I am the bionic woman.

I just need somebody to charge my battery for me first, please.

(and my mom says/thinks: Laurie!! ;) )