2001-08-21 - 2:35 p.m.
Everything that goes down must come back up ... Moodwise, that is.

Mood Swings 'R Us, Controller Shell here ....

*laughing* I called the government student loan folks around 10 AM today, and found out that I'd forgotten a payment I sent a few weeks ago ... Instead of owing $616 plus this month's payment, I owed $188 and a payment. So I swore to send $200 and make up the rest ASAP, and they have promised not to report me to any credit peoples. There's nothing like finding out you owe a few hundred less than you thought you did, to make the rest of your debts seem that much lighter!

My computer problem turned out to be easy-easy to fix, and I was back in my office by 10:30 AM. Then, I spent several minutes checking various websites I track and responding to the latest series of Madman missives. (He never fails to make me smile. I am eager to meet the woman who has so thoroughly captured his heart).

Then, I checked the mail, and found a response letter to the query I sent to OSU some weeks ago. It begins to sound more and more plausible as a future ... Perhaps I really shall be a grad student in the fall of 2002. I'll have to cross my fingers, and pray about it some more.

All in all, the day has been much cheerier than I expected when I got here, despite the grey skies outside. I am A-OK with everything just now. Bring it on!

On that note, I'll leave you with a description of my latest bizarre dream. You can skip it if you like. That's why I put it at the end this time. Comments in parenthesis are my opinions after waking up. =)

I don't remember exactly how the dream began, of course; I never do. But I do remember being at a little wood-panelled store with Mom & Dad. The store sold two things, some electronic gizmo (stereos?) that we were there to look at, and lots of bottles of wine. I remember wandering through the rows of bottles, staring at the strangely colored ones and wondering if any of them tasted good.

I got bored after awhile and could not find my parents, so I exited the store and wandered around on the grass outside it. The store was inside a small, aged house, occupying the front half. The back half, including an extensive patio, seemed to be a cafe or bar serving wine from the store's cellars. There were groups of people at tables all over the patio, chatting and drinking and laughing.

As I circled the house, out in the grass, I noticed that the air had gone all green-grey the way it does at dusk sometimes. A bat flew up out of the grass a little way in front of me. "Should we tell her?" I could hear one of the guys saying, at the table nearest me. "No," another said, "She'd just panic. Besides, they're only dangerous for a few minutes around sunrise and sunset."

Then, as I walked back around to the front of the store, a cloud of five or six bats leaped up out of the grass and went for the opening at the neck of my shirt, digging into my skin with their little claws. Needless to say, I screamed. My parents came out of the store, and mom hurried me into one of the nearby houses. It was an enormous white Victorian mansion, and it seemed to belong to us.

Mom helped me carefully pry the little bats off my skin. They were stuck all over my torso, and their clawmarks stung when I pulled them off. But there were only four. Then I felt a stirring against my left side and found a tiny white rabbit in my shirt. It was adorable, but it weirded me out as much as the little bats did. I handed it to Mom. She held it at arms' length, stood up, and began wandering around the house.

After a minute, she pulled a cross from her pocket. I thought it was for me -- I had a sudden feeling that I needed one. She put it on herself, though, mumbled a few words, and left the room. I sat down to think, or something, and suddenly it was full dark outside. I got up again and wandered the house looking for Mom. I noticed that a maze of string had been constructed, tying every corner of every piece of furniture to each other, at ankle level. Even the doorways were criscrossed with thread. Little beads and other things were hung on the strings.

I stepped over the strings and kept looking. "Clever," I said. "I would have done this myself." And I wonderered, silently, when this crude prison would affect me, when I would get stuck between the lines. (Whatever that means).

I finally found Mom, but I was starting to feel really strange, like my skin didn't fit anymore. There were no crosses at hand, just a little in-table covered in perfume bottles and make-up, and a little necklace made out of hematite beads. (I can't remember if hematite has any significance?) It caught my eye, all silvery shimmers, and I picked it up and pressed it to my forehead. Suddenly, I felt much calmer.

There were two men sitting in chairs near Mom. They looked to be in their thirties or so, younger than my Dad, but very mature and deadly serious. "From your actions today," one said, "We're pretty sure there's something special about you."

"We think you're an Ex," the other announced. "It would explain a lot of things."

"An ex-what?" I asked, alarmed. I couldn't remember anything that that would need explaining, especially with such a vague title.

"Let's go for a ride," the first one suggested, deflecting my question. They took me out to a truck (it looked like the blue Chevy Luv my dad used to own) and had me sit in the back. Then, they got in the cab and started driving around. After awhile we passed by a beautiful old brick building, nearly as large as the Victorian mansion. It had beautiful stained glass windows, and the brick was a rich rusty-red color. It was in the process of being demolished. I could see Dad in the distance among the workers.

The crew foreman stopped digging when we approached. He looked straight at me. He had a scruff of beard on his face, the I-haven't-shaved-in-four-days kind, and piercing dark eyes. "Not many men would destroy their daughter's childhood to protect her," he said.

I looked at what remained of the building, and then at the foreman, and knew he was talking about me. But for the life of me, I could not remember anything about the building, or anything about my childhood at all. I started getting seriously worried. What couldn't I remember? What was Dad protecting me from? What had gone on in my life that I did not know about?

And of course, that's where I woke up.