Family life, Paleo-ish eating and Coping with Chronic Illness

Posts tagged ‘Scary Dream’

Ebola, Prisoners and Scary Stuff

Don’t you like it when bloggers like me say, “I’m sorry.  I just haven’t had time to post.”

Absolutely no one in the world cares when an every day blogger hasn’t blogged.  Those are just the cold hard facts.

But, I’M BACK!!!!  Never you fear, my friend.   I’ll be blogging from the grave.

Speaking of fear.  Ebola. Can I just say that me and my fellow hypochondriacs don’t need this?   I can turn a scratch on my arm into stage 4 Brain Cancer.  What am I going to do with bleeding eyeballs?

Don’t think I haven’t been making plans.  I told my family they were no longer allowed to talk to people in person.  They’ll be home schooled now, and I think we’ll be just fine with all the canning I did this summer.  Plus, Scott has all that smoked meat out back in the shed.  We should be good for quite some time.

Not true.  We’re totally screwed. We don’t garden, hunt, sew or home school. We’re so squarely on the grid, we might own it.

I meant to get off the dang grid.  Why do I have to be so forgetful?

I HAVE been talking to my family about improving their immune systems.  I heard that can help. But, I’m always preaching that.  That’s not really new.

My family is excited, because all this Ebola hype means that we’re going to have even less fun stuff to eat in our house.  And, they won’t get away with forgetting their vitamins.  That’s how you fight Ebola, with a vitamin.  I’m surprised the CDC didn’t think of that.

I was talking to my kids about Ebola at the dinner table.  I thought I was calm, and appeared unafraid.  I guess not.  Olivia’s hands started to shake.  She told me to just stop talking about it.  Yeah.  That’s not funny.  I promise, I stopped.  She’s a younger version of the big Fraidy Cat she calls, Mom.  So, I have to be careful with her.

Zeke told Olivia to stop being afraid.  He said, “So what if we get Ebola?  Then we get to go to heaven.”

Sometimes you just need kids to tell you it’ll be alright.

I admit it.  I’m prone to hysteria.  I hate that about me.

It’s just that lately I totally get it.  I get that the world is scary, and evil is real.  When I was reading the Ebola coverage, I clicked on a video about South American prisoners throwing prison guards from the prison roof.  I thought it was going to be a story to read.  It wasn’t.  It was a video.  Before I could process what I was watching, I saw these prisoners with Klu Klux Klan type white hoods on, literally pushing men off the roof.  One prisoner dangled a guard with a rope tied around the guard’s ankles.  I can’t believe I saw that.  I didn’t finish watching it.  Usually I avoid terrifying images.  Now those images are caught in my head.

Maybe I imagined it?  I’m not entirely positive,  but  don’t look it up.  I’m serious.  Don’t.

I didn’t actually sleep much the night I saw those images.   I slept for a while, but then I started dreaming about those prisoners.  I woke in a state of terror.  Then, I started thinking about Ebola.  Then, I wondered who’s dumb idea it was to never have any liquor in the house.  I was pretty edgy.

I started praying.

I begged, “God, just stomp it out.  Stomp out the evil.  You know you can. Why don’t  you?”

Then, God answered with a large roar from the heavens. Oh, wait.  That was Scott snoring.

I didn’t hear anything audible.  But, I thought something.  I don’t think it was my own thought.  I think it was a thought God was nice enough to give me.  I think He reminded me of how simple things are.    He reminded me that the ability  I think I have to control things  is an illusion. At any moment, I am one plague away from a completely different life.    I always forget that.

He reminded me that this comfortable illusion keeps  me insulated from the truth.  The truth that evil is real.  Evil is real whether or not I believe God is real too.   But, here’s the part that’s awesome. I do believe God is real;  I believe He wins.

I thanked God for the path He’s given me, given my whole family.  I thanked him for the comfort  I feel from Him.  I thanked Him for staying up late with me and listening to my heart.  I thanked him for giving me comfort when I’m scared of plagues and prisoners.  I thanked him for a battle that He’s already won.

I can’t remember what else I thanked him for, because that’s when I fell back to sleep.  And, that’s why I’m glad we believe God is real.  Because I can’t imagine a world with Ebola and scary prisoners without God.


Scary Dreams and Another Disease

I’ve lost my blogging rhythm.  I used to have one, but I don’t any more.  Now my blogs just erupt spontaneously.

After writing about depression, I felt a little depressed.  That surprised me.  I spent a lot of myself writing that story.  When I finished, I thought maybe I finally got all of these words inside of me on the outside of me.  I felt empty; like I was actually done.

I thought, well then. I guess I finally have blogging out of my system.  Soon I will be saying, “Remember when I used to blog all the time? I was so weird back then.”

A couple of days after I published my Depression Story, I felt more words starting to slowly pile up again.  Not words to change anybody’s world.  Just more like another purge of random nonsense.   Those kind of purges are soothing for me.

Maybe I’m sick?

Just a sec. I have to go Google something.

SHUT the FRONT DOOR!!!  This is a thing.  I knew it.  I’m suffering from an illness.  And, you didn’t believe me?!  Maybe this will teach you trust my instincts.  Especially when it comes to impending doom.   I always have my money on that.

Check it:

Hypergraphia is a behavioral condition characterized by the intense desire to write. Forms of hypergraphia can vary in writing style and content. It is a symptom associated with temporal lobechanges in epilepsy, which is the cause of the Geschwind syndrome, a mental disorder.[1]Structures that may have an effect on hypergraphia when damaged due to temporal lobe epilepsy are the hippocampus and Wernicke’s area. Aside from temporal lobe epilepsy, chemical causes may be responsible for inducing hypergraphia.

Now I don’t understand most of that definition, nor did I read anything but the first sentence.  But,  what is pretty obvious (when you read between the lines) is that this writing disease is fatal.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to make you cry again.  I know we’ve become friends.

I shall make this vow to you: I shall keep writing and writing and writing things for you, until I die from it.  You have my word and my honor.

Wow.  Things just got real serious.  Real fast.

One of the things I felt so compelled to write about was Olivia’s dream.  Scott doesn’t like it when we talk about dreams.  He’s so literal; he abhors drama.  Dreams are dramatic. I think when we explain our dreams to Scott, he mistakenly thinks that that WE are being dramatic.  Like we have a choice about what our subconscious conjures up while we sleep.

I have been in the middle of telling Scott about how I gave birth to his little son who actually turned out to be a monkey, and Scott will  just cut me off.  He doesn’t want to hear another word.

I’m like, “Just let me tell you the part about how we bravely overcame our disappointment in our monkey son, and how we embraced him instead.  We gave him a home, Scott.  That should mean something to you.”


Hello, Scott Junior. Your Father doesn’t mean to be so harsh. He’ll learn to love you, in time.

Nope. He doesn’t care.

I am very interested in dreams.

Olivia has been on edge lately because, well, sometimes she hears the news.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but lately the news IS terrifying.  If I were writing a serious blog today, I might point out that if hearing about the terror happening on another continent is enough to give us nightmares, I wonder how it is affecting the victims actually experiencing it.

I know that I can’t actually know how good I have it.  It’s impossible to appreciate it adequately.

So, here is the dream:  Olivia dreamed that the enemy/terrorists stormed the United States.  The terrorists came into our home with guns.  They pointed them at us and said, “If you praise God, we will kill you.  If you praise the Devil, you will live.”

Then, the terrorists said, “Get on your knees.  If you face East, you are praising God.  If you face the West, you are praising the Devil.  If you praise the Devil, we will let you live.”

Of course, we all folded our hands, and faced God’s direction together.  Then, at the last minute I yelled, “Wait.  Wait.  Don’t kill me.  I’m going to face the Devil’s direction.”

WHAATT????  Are you kidding me, Olivia?

So, that dream is simultaneously terrifying and humorous.  Terrifying, because people really are executed for their beliefs.  Not in some weird era of history either.   Right now.  Humorous, because I thought maybe my daughter had more confidence in me.  Apparently, she thinks it will take approximately 15 seconds to break me.

That makes me nervous, because I have been known to crumble under pressure.  Let’s just say nobody’s every accused me of being overly courageous.

I’m glad Olivia gave me this horrifying plot to think about.  I’m going to visualize and practice bravery in my mind.  For the record, I’m totally a God worshiper.

I’m also going to ask God if there would please be another, slightly less scary way to end my time here.  Like a writing disease, or something like that.


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