After the hectic dreaming of our time in Cirencester we are back here. Last night I had two short dreams which pertain to the day to day.
In the first one I was conversing with an officious nurse / sister in French about my hospital stay and ongoing treatment. There is a particular type of woman here who can react badly when their dominion is in any way challenged. It is a reminder perhaps to remember that sometimes discretion can be the better part of valour. A lot of people here are very passive to “the system” like sheep. I doubt my piss-taking sense of humour will wash. I am thinking how I might need to manage myself for the upcoming dice and slice.
The second dream had me going for two successive haircuts. Hair is the dreaming symbol for social self-perception.
Our route march from/to the landing gate in Gatwick airport and the sheer bedlam cacophony of the security checkpoint standing in line reminded me that I am not able bodied. Next time I may need to get special disabled provision, to be wheeled around. Certainly a day sack rucksack is a bad idea. A wheely bag exerts less gravitational force on the bone on bone hip joints.
It is pretty clear that I am no longer practised in the art of human interaction. I am eccentric and used to not being around people. I dress scruffily and at little expense. To those who pay attention to these things I will look poor and unfunded, shabby even. My clothing not from a clone-chain designer, there are no branded icons. I am at first look, out of place. I am not embedded in the fatuous feedback form star rating Pavlova. The take home message is to be ultra bland so as not to sore thumb it. Say as little as possible. Keep my gob shut.
My self-perception has changed a little.
It looks to me to be settle in for winter. Do what you can before the scalpel and drill. There are a couple of chores left on the list. There is nothing external which needs my attention. The world is not my circus.
Maybe when the spring time comes after perhaps a second bionic hip, there might be something external for me to do.
All that highfalutin stuff has blown away like leaves in the Autumn. Not my problem, nothing for me to worry about.
Which means that we have at least one green waste tip trip on the cards. I feel several sessions with the leaf blower ahead.
This week I get to see if Moley McMoleface has been trapped. There is a bit more DIY and there are the pipes to the cesspit to check and if needed clear.
Then it is medical admin time…
Dreamyoga 