❧
The temperature is cool for the middle of Spring. When I woke up with my bladder screeching, I realized I had pulled more covers on top of myself than I needed, and I was uncomfortably warm.
When I couldn't wait any longer, I finally got up to relieve myself, and realized how cold it was in my bedroom. I shivered a little as I quickly finished my toilette, and hurried back to my warm bed. After I removed the down comforter that had been a little too much, I quickly crawled back under the covers and lay there for a good long time. I like to sleep under a couple of blankets. Soon, when Summer gets here, that won't be possible.
When I couldn't wait any longer, I finally got up to relieve myself, and realized how cold it was in my bedroom. I shivered a little as I quickly finished my toilette, and hurried back to my warm bed. After I removed the down comforter that had been a little too much, I quickly crawled back under the covers and lay there for a good long time. I like to sleep under a couple of blankets. Soon, when Summer gets here, that won't be possible.
They knew me in the dream as they knew me in beta consciousness when we worked together at an electronic repair joint. It was an altogether pleasant affair in the dream, but in the past, there was lots of emotional anger and suspicion. I felt the need to explain to my ex-co-workers what I was doing there in their presence.
With heightening lucidity, I found some clothes I had left on the job site, and said that I had merely returned to pick them up. The one guy, who seemed to have taken over my job when I left, told me that he had to fill out some forms to indicate where the articles of clothing had disappeared to.
There some complicity in this odd behavior, because the clothes would never have been catalogued as company property. It was like he attempted to complicate matters as an attempt to find out if I had returned to get my old job back. I had not. It was just a dream. These people appeared in my dreamtime from a job I had in Charlotte in the late 1960s.
The dreamtime appears to exist as a non-attaching situation. I knew these people intimately, and they seemed like they knew me, but there wasn't any emotion attached to our exchanges. Displays of emotion in my dreams is "of the persona" or seems that way.
Sometime my emotions reach into the dreamtime and inflict themselves on situations my consciousness decides should be there. But, it's not the usual deal for me to move around in that world getting all worked up about the events there. Most of the time I feel like I am is moving in a suspended state of being when I know I'm dreaming.
It's because I am lucid that I have a certain degree of control over what happens next in the sequence. Conscious awareness means anything could happen next, and it's difficult to anticipate the future when I know I'm dreaming.
The olive oil I prepare for dipping with bread hasn't got as much wiggle room for experimenting as I thought it might. The first dipping oil I experienced was flavored with grated parmesan cheese. I'm used to sopping up pot likker with biscuits from my Southern heritage. I liked this new taste, so I bought several other kinds of cheese to see if they might work as a flavoring in the oil.
The bleu cheese (sic) I bought was not grated, but crumbled, and when I used it this morning to flavor some fried eggs and hash browns I thought it would melt and blend in. It didn't. So, I got eggs and hash browns with clumps of blue cheese on them. Not bad, but hardly what I had imagined.
The oil I've mixed for dipping, except with grated parmesan cheese, hasn't lived up to my initial expectations. I've tried some feta cheese also. The crumbled cheese doesn't work as well for me as the grated cheese. The bread I've used for dipping hasn't worked out so well either. It's been too soft. I guess this addition to my diet will take a while to figure out.
One of the more pleasant surprises I've had has been to heat the oil and it's ingredients before I use it. Not on salads though. Heating it, without getting the oil too hot, blends whatever tastes I've put together. Some of the mixtures I've used with fried hash browns has been quite tasty.
I may have been wrong about being allergic to cinnamon. After I stopped taking the prednisone, which caused the soreness on my tongue to dissipate drastically, and the steroids wore off, the sore spot that has made it so difficult to eat comfortably returned in full force.
The swelling in my lips is a little better than it was. I plan to keep avoiding using the cinnamon for a while. It may not be the culprit, but who knows what the future will bring (odd, that's the same thing I just wrote about not being able to anticipate the direction of my dream life).
If I continue to not take the methotrexate until next Monday, I will have gone two weeks without it. Methotrexate is like the silver bullet as far as the pain goes with rheumatoid arthritis, but it lowers my immune system rather drastically, and I feel like I have to exercise caution to the extreme when something physical goes awry.
The pain can be and has been awful at times. I'm taking my life in my hands at times to combat little infections and such. I've reached the conclusion that whatever is causing my tongue to be sensitive and my lips to swell up is not due to an infection, but its probably an allergy to something I'm eating or the side effect of one of the prescription drugs I take. If I get to hurting bad enough from not taking the methotrexate I will start taking it.
My friends and kinfolk don't know what I'm going through with the arthritis or why what I'm going through may be the reason (or excuse) I'm not as genteel as they've come to expect. It's not their fault I get so grumpy at times, but the family gene pool ain't my fault either. I gotta get a younger body.
❦
