"Hurricane Sandy": A Time For Thoughts, A Time For Wishes, A Time For Prayers, And A Time For Healing"

“Hurricane Sandy”

A Time For Thoughts, A Time For Wishes, A Time For Prayers, And A Time For Healing.

 

 

10/30/12

 

 

To my very, very dearest friends, and always kind readers,

 

Safe within the comfort of my little home, with, “Daisy”, loyally at my side, its easy—somehow—to become so wrapped-up in one’s illness, pain, and situation, that its almost impossible to imagine the horrendous scope of human tragedy, loss, and suffering of those, reeling from the destruction and devastation most recently wrought by hurricane, “Sandy”.

 

Even the name, “Sandy”, sounds so innocuous in any attempt to conceive what absolute carnage any hurricane can do.  And of the subsequent weeks and weeks necessary to restore even basics such as available drinking water, food, and medical care; not to mention the seemingly endless difficulty in finding shelter, and the restoration of electrical, telephone, and computer service to those affected.

 

When we look—though—at news or radio broadcasts, or see video after video of damage, of persons who have lost everything...family members, friends, pets, homes, cars, and who can be seen wandering aimlessly—in total shock—through endless piles of waterlogged wreckage and debris, looking for someone, something, anything. 

 

For in the passing of a few, scant hours, their hopes, wishes, dreams…in fact, their entire lives were stripped from them and swept away.

 

Seared into our conscious minds were sights of the absolute, horrendous power of the hurricane, with after-effects one can only, vaguely associate with nuclear blasts.

 

We hear their weeping; we see their grief; we can see the hopelessness in their eyes.

 

But we can only imagine their loss, their sorrow, the broken will, or the broken heart.

 

Safe and secure in front of the computer—perhaps—quiet and safe within our homes we should feel an enormous feeling of rage, of helplessness, feeling as if we should DO something, but not knowing quite what TO do.

 

First of all…and I hardly, really need mention it, is to telephone to try to get in touch with a affected loved one, or friend; make sure that they are relatively safe.  If you have room, or can make room, open up your homes to them; it needn’t be forever, should you worry about being inconvenienced.

 

For those without family or friends in the devastated areas, one CAN at least make a small

donation to whatever Charity you think best utilizes their resources.

 

And even should they be as strangers to us, we can still keep them I our minds, in our hearts, and (as may be appropriate) in our prayers.

 

Try to imagine (past your own sense of pain, illness, or deprivation) how they feel; imagine how you—too—might feel in such a situation.  It should make you grateful for what you DO have: family members, friends, and/or pets who genuinely love you; shelter, food, and running water.

 

And now is as good a time as any to mention: never let an opportunity pass by to tell someone special just how very, very much you value them, and love them!  For—as we have seen only too well—that chance might be taken-away from you in a heartbeat!

 

And—with our hopes and prayers—we can help them recover.  For as fellow humans, we can surely do no less.

 

Thank you.

 

And, please always know that I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles

" Ah-h-h-h..To Sleep, Perchance To Dream! "

 

 

“Ah-h-h-h…To Sleep, Perchance To Dream!”

 

Part I of IV:

What do we mean by, ‘Sleep’; and how shall we define it?

 

 

10/29/12

 

 

To my very, very dear, and wonderful friends, and ever-constant, loyal readers,

 

 

Sleep.  S-l-e-e-p—a word possibly derived from, ‘Middle or Old’, English, with its almost harsh consonantal sound—nevertheless, can still lull when the sound is drawn out, and even further out.

 

S----L----E----E----P----when intoned—thusly—mimics the glottal sound of air expressed as would an exhalation, as part of a natural, physical rhythm.

 

The word has a slow, hypnotic, beckoning sound; a gentle admonition.  Soft as a prayer. As light as a billowy cloud. As melodious as a stream.

 

 In fact, much more, ‘relaxing’, than is the word, ‘awake’, with its sharp and abbreviated, ‘chopping’, sound. Sound it out yourself; listen to the distinction:  ‘A-WAKE!’.  Bam.  BOOM!  “Get UP this INSTANT!!!.”

 

Sleep is an integral part of Life, such as is breathing, or eating.

 

In the, ‘normal’, scheme of things, sleep occupies a full third of one’s life; we spend YEARS—in total—sleeping (or, trying to sleep!)

 

And while everyone has—perhaps—been made overly-aware of the traditional, ‘phases’. Of sleep, that include, ‘Alpha’, ‘Beta’, ‘R.E.M’, ‘Delta’, and maybe, ‘Theta’, as they refer to the different levels of sleep, and sleep consciousness, I would like—for the purposes of this topic—to offer a more simplified, though no less subjective categorizing of, ‘sleep states’, from, ’normal’, to that which is affected by illness, psychological aberrations, pain, etc., which will be referred to when needed for comparison.

 

Thus—for our purposes—basic, ‘sleep’, can be illustrated from, ‘beginning’, until that time, ‘just prior, ’to wakefulness.

 

And so, our, ‘sleep’ chart might look something like this:

 

1)           Drowsiness # I.  The individual begins to blink more often, in an effort to clarify vision.  Yawns appear more frequently.  If reading, certain words must be re-read for understanding, and continuity.  The body just begins to want to, ‘settle down’.

2)           Drowsiness # 2.  The eyes begin to , ‘grow heavy’, until keeping them open and focused becomes a concerted chore.  Whole paragraphs now have to be read, in order to carry over meaning; it is often—during this time—where one might even flip-through the book to see just how many pages remain until the end. Fully-extended yawns become more prevalent; and natural respirations lengthen.  Here, the body may be perceived as being, ‘too warm’, or not, ‘warm enough’.  Movement slows. And an almost painful lethargy floods the body. Only severe protestations (or, immediate bathroom calls!), will serve to rouse one from, say the sofa, to retire—instead—to the bed. This silent lethargy continues, until one has kicked-off one’s slippers, and has, ‘slid’, into bed, between always cool--and hopefully comfortable—clean, dry sheets, and/or blankets.

3)           Sleep #1. The eyes have been closed, and a comfortable position for the body has been found.  On average, it should require no more than ten to twenty minutes to fall asleep before conscious thoughts begin to intrude.  Sleep—then—describes a sort of, ‘U-shaped’ curve.  As the body falls deeper and deeper into sleep, more and more, ‘voluntary’, functions of brain give ‘way to more, ’involuntary’, functions, such as respiration, heartbeat, digestive processes; gradually such concepts as hunger are damped down.

The body’s core temperature begins to drop. Respirations become their longest and slowest.

It is—perhaps—during this phase that the body begins a self-assessment of need, and begins—as may be able—to repair itself.

The hormone Serotonin floods the system, ‘paralyzing’, the muscles, so as to prevent harm or injury to self (or others), by, ‘acting out’, dreams.

4)           At various times lasting from maybe twenty seconds, to ninety seconds—especially during the first phase of sleep—the closed eyelids of the sleeper can be observed twitching and blinking; this phenomena is known as, ‘rapid eye movement’, or, ‘R,E,M,’, during which time it is thought that the sleeping individual experiences dreams.

Dreams—of course—come in all varieties, shapes, subjects, ‘good’, ‘funny’, ‘repetitive’, or take the form of, ‘nightmare’.

 It is widely thought that the dream-images—themselves—are a kind of telegraphed information of the subconscious part of the brain to the conscious part, that attempt to resolve, ‘waking’, conflict, anxieties, worries, or to problem solve, finding sometime cryptic answers that—when deciphered properly—assist in the healthy reintegration of the, ‘Id’, the, ‘Ego’, and the, ‘super-Ego’, in the predominance of Self among Self, and of Self, in regard to others.

And while these, ‘dream states’, actually represent only a very small part of the entire, ‘sleep experience’, ‘dreams’, often seem to last for hours, and hours…days, and years, ‘lifetimes’, even.

 

Please recall—for a moment—the bottom of the curve representing the lowest part, or, the, ‘bottoming-out’, of this first phase of sleep.  Heartbeats slow, as do respirations, and there is a pronounced drop in the body’s core temperature by as much as a degree and-a-half.

 

 

It is this time, from about 4:30 a.m. to perhaps, 6:00 a.m., that in nursing homes, more patients die from, ‘natural causes’, than at any other time of either night, or day.

I have personally seen this happen; we once had a very, elderly woman who was clearly hours from death.

But because the on-duty C.N.A. did not want to have to bother with the paperwork needed, or to have to, ‘wash, and prepare’, the body for the funeral home, she kept mildly, ‘irritating’, the patient, with more frequent turning, and positioning, grasping the patient’s hands, speaking loudly to her, moving the head—frequently—to change, and, ‘plump-up’, pillows.

To me, the C.N.A. said, “Now watch…in doing this, I can probably keep her alive until the next shift takes over.  And then, it’ll be ‘their’ problem.”

This went on for better than two-and-a-half hours…and…it worked.  The poor woman expired probably no more than twenty minutes into the day shift!

 

 

5)           Sleep # 2.  Just as the mind and body—in falling asleep—described a downward curve until the very deepest sleep is found, so must the body and mind follow an upward curve, from that of sound sleep to eventual wakefulness.

As sleep become lighter and lighter, the individual becomes more easily roused (for the most part!), and can thus attend to things such as an alarm clock, a street noise, or the sound of a kettle (or the aroma!) boiling to make blessed coffee.

 

Thus the individual—having had time-enough to, ‘sleep’, in an environment conducive to sleep, and of a, ‘depth’, of sleep sufficient for bodily restoration—can awake, and arise refreshed, better able to cope with the stresses of everyday life, to plan, and to problem solve in areas that might otherwise cause frustration, or anger.

To be, ‘clear-headed-enough’, to learn from past mistakes, to make appropriate judgment calls, and—with greater effectiveness—be able to interact, socially, with family members, friends, co-workers, and employers, to name just a few.

And, to enjoy better health, in general, with more energy at his or her disposal to survive and even to prosper in this busy, distracted, uncertain, and quite unpredictable world as we know it.  And to better, and with greater facility, enjoy life!

Thus, we arrive at the end of, Part I, after having defined—for purposes of this entry—the different phases of, ‘sleep’, in particular, ‘good sleep’, in order to—perhaps—better explain that which we all need, but seldom get.

 

Part II will consist—in part—of that which all too often takes away from, and prohibits the natural desire to sleep, and of the initial conflicts—both in nature, and in, ‘need’, that lead us astray from the actualization of, ‘good, solid, and restorative’, sleep.

 

Part III will attempt to address some of the physical, mental, and pain-responsive conditions that limit or ruin various phases—where indicated—of sleep, as put forth in Part I, and how, subsequently, overall health is affected.

 

Part IV will conclude this particular series on, ‘sleep’, by the acknowledgement of problem areas, and hopeful suggestions that may prove to be of some help.

 

In trying to address such an enormously varied topic such as, ‘sleep’, and of any examination of quite individualistic-specific, ‘causes and effects’, and any subsequent, proposed, ‘answers’,  the scope of such an enterprise—within a diary-type forum—may well prove to be an impossible failure, especially as I tend to run overlong anyway!

 

And so, my precious friends, and caring, gentle readers, I most kindly ask for your comments and suggestions for necessary corrections, as well as for my own edification!

Please, please do make comments, below.  I cannot know your reactions, and true feelings without them.

And I remain ever so grateful to you for taking your time to both read, and make comments to my diary entries!

 

Please do know that I think of you so very, very often, and that I write to you, and, ‘for you’, more than I write for myself.

 

I so want you to be safe, secure, to not know want or despair, and to be well, with all the genuine happiness your kind hearts can hold!

 

And…please, please always know that I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles

"B~O~O~O~O~O ! And To All, A Most Happy Halloween !!! "

“ B~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O !

And To All, A Most Happy Halloween !!! “

 

 

( “From goulies and ghosties and long-leggedly beasties and things that go bump in the night Good Lord, deliver us!”—from an ancient Scottish prayer, often mistakenly attributed to the Scottish poet, Robert ‘Robbie’ Burnes. )

 

 

 

 

10/27/12

 

 

 

To my very dearest friends, and always kind readers,

 

 

In less than a week from now, it will be ‘Halloween’!  A time of chills and thrills, sudden, ‘surprises’, cackling laughter, ever deepening shadows, misty, full-moon nights, pumpkins, lit by candle from within, black cats, noisy, ‘spooks’, spider web (hopefully, without the spider!), candy corn, and the joyous peals of children’s laughter as they, in every manner of costume, trudge—holding half-full bags of, ‘treats’--from welcoming door to welcoming door.

 

 

Can witches aboard broomsticks, flying fast and low, be seen outlined against the moon?  Can you hear the rattle of chains, the squeal of rusted door hinges, or the, ‘whooshing’, fluttering of bats as they—too—fly through the air?

 

 

For children, it once was—and still should be—a time of pretend, of being anything they may want to be; walking single-file (accompanied by adult supervision, and in, ‘safe’, neighborhoods) down sidewalks in a thousand neighborhoods, looking for the houses that invite with porch light on, and welcoming open front door.

 

 

There to, ‘show-off’, their many wildly colored, and wonderful dress, to adult homeowners who suddenly, ‘have to guess and guess what each little, ‘treater’, represents.

 

There are always costumes of the, ‘Superheros’, in current vogue…Batmen, and Batgirls, Supermen, and, Supergirls; and let us not forget, ‘X-men’!

 

But more traditional outfits include a spate of would-be Firemen, Princesses, Farmers, Faeries.  Witches, and Ghosts, plus costumes that reflect childhood, ‘want-to-be’s’.

 

It is the children who know exactly what Halloween is about: the chance to play, and to pretend; to assume—for one, brief night—whatever persona they choose.

 

And they LOVE it!   Fully as much—if not more—than the candy treats they hope to receive.

 

I ask you, my very dearest friends, when was the LAST time you went out, ‘trick-or-treating’?  Not—mind you—as one of the supervising adults.  But rather, part of that happy throng that delighted in playing, ‘dress up’?

 

 

In October of 1963—when I was nine years old—was the very last time my mother and father allowed me to go from door to door, in costume, yelling, ‘Trick-or-treat!!!!’, jostling my way to an open front door to be given my, ‘bribe’… goodies, against potential, ‘tricks’.

 

 

I chose my own costume, and was very proud of it.  I had on a plastic face mask that was held in place by an elastic band over my ears and around the back of my head.

 

The mask had two, little holes beneath the nostrils to facilitate breathing, and into them I attached a long, black moustache.

 

I wore a long, black raincoat I had, with my galoshes for shoes.  I wore a plastic, black derby, and carried a plastic pumpkin.

 

That Christmas—before—I had asked for (and had been given) one of those children’s, ‘doctor sets’, that included a bright red stethoscope, a, ‘doctor’s bag’, and a bottle of sugar, ‘pills’.  And so, I wore the stethoscope around my neck.  Somehow, I also managed to carry a grocery bag to collect candy in.

 

And I was set!  For that one night—anyway—I was not a nine year old, ‘Zahc’, but rather, the nefarious, Dr. S. J. Smith. [I made up the name!].

 

My mom and dad thought I looked SO cute, that they brought the camera out; and somewhere, lost amid the numerous and ancient family albums is a photograph of me, leaning slightly (and, menacingly!) at the camera, holding out my plastic pumpkin.

 

 

And oddly—somehow—the personage of  Dr. S. J. Smith lingered on for a number of years, as whenever my folks needed a form witnessed, I would scrawl upon it, ‘S. J. Smith, M. D.

 

 

And out I went, coming home again, and again so that my dear father could upend the contents of each, nearly-full bag out upon the dining table.  And what a cache of treats there were!

 

 

Little root beer barrels, little grape barrels, toffee, gum, boxes of raisins, the odd candied apple, popcorn balls, home-made cookies, jellybeans by the kilo; and candy corn, candy corn, and more candy corn.

 

 

Since we lived at Ft. Hood, Texas, and in a duplex on base, there were miles, and miles of sidewalks to cover, not to mention repeat visits to houses that gave out the best stuff!, a veritable mountain of candy quickly formed on our dining room table.

 

 

Of course—even in ‘those’ days, there were warnings of apples containing razor blades, and of loose stuff being, ‘doctored’, with poisons.  And so—from that enormous ziggurat of treats—my mother and father discarded anything loose; there went the candied apples, the popcorn balls, the cookies, and the jellybeans!  While I wanted to at least try a couple of cookies!

 

 

Both then until now, I have never been particularly fond of candy, per se., though—certainly—chocolate has NEVER been a stranger in THIS house!  And at Easter, those super, super sweet Cadbury, ‘eggs’…WOW, a guaranteed ‘sugar rush’ in every bite!

 

 

However, this general dislike helped to make me more popular than my, ‘geekishness’, would otherwise have conferred as I was the ONLY kid on the block who still had Halloween candy in May!

 

Of course, the next year—when I was ten—I was deemed, ‘too old’, to go a trick-or-treating, but—instead—took on the duty of handing of the candy, while my folks mostly just watched TeeVee.  Sigh.

 

And although that was almost—gasp!—fifty years ago, some things—thank God—seemed to have remained changeless:

1)           The childhood ability to, ‘pretend’, to imagine, to don personas as they would socks.

2)           The ability to dream, to laugh without self-consciousness.  To have fun on an elemental basis.

3)           Most importantly—unlike adults—they have retained the ability to, ‘play’.

 

 

Admittedly—though—ideally, children have time to do these things, quite apart from duty and expectation, until such time as they—too—are expected to don the mantle of responsibility, the, ‘rite’, of passage—as it were—in order to become respectable, if predictable, ‘grown-ups’.

 

 

Though in the traditions of the Amish community, there is recognized a set time from about age sixteen to marriage, as, “Rumspringa”, or, ‘youth period’, during which the strict tenets of Amish belief are relaxed, to allow an individual time to, ‘play’, or to, ‘blow off a little steam’, before having to settle down, start a farm, marry, and have children!

 

 

Well before the time we become, ‘adults’, ‘play’, as such, is literally beaten out of us with, ’grown-up’, responsibilities, duties, and obligations taking the ascendant.

 

 

‘Play’ is thought of as wasting time, effort,  money, and considered—moreover—to be juvenile, and unproductive. It is even thought—derogatorily so—as being foolish or downright, ‘silly’. And we learn our lessons only too well.

 

 

Oh, one might—on occasion—play tennis, golf, or go bowling, etc., these pastimes are actually more like work, as they are ordered, have specific rules, and—in general—involve a decided measure of competitiveness!

 

 

‘Play’ knows no hours, no rules, nor any competition to be thoroughly participated in and enjoyed.

 

 

I would think that we all would like to be happy, secure, and fulfilled.  But in striving to become so, somehow, ‘play’ (for the most part), got left out in the rain and sleet.

 

 

I kindly ask you to consider this: about the only times we—as adults—‘play’, is on those rare occasions when we frisk-about with our pets, or actually get down on the floor to play with one’s children or grandchildren.

 

 

And when the grandchildren have left, or gone to sleep, how often have you sat down to really read, “The Cat In The Hat”, by Dr. Seuss?  Or picked up a couple of crayons and tried to color?

 

Admittedly—then—we NEED to, ‘play’; to, ‘cut loose’, to relax, and have fun!

 

 

And yet, I would propose that we need to consider, ‘play’, as a measure of happiness, well-adjustment, and…sense of peace.

 

If I may illustrate on a very personal basis, after my last, diary post, entitled, “A 2^nd Rate Heaven?”, I asked for comments; the ones that I received were—without exception—extremely well-thought out, considerate, literate, and insightful!

 

 

I especially appreciate the comments made by dear friends, ‘Tenar’, ‘AmyLouLou’, and, ‘scorpioj’, who suggested that—in truth—I was, by illness and pain, too preoccupied with being miserable to be…well...much of anything else.  And that, my dearest friends occasioned in me a lot of, ‘soul-searching’, and necessary contemplation.  How very, very right they were!

 

That is—perhaps why—Halloween is my particular, personal favorite among all recognized, American Holidays.

 

 

 

Although it is--among adults, especially—a quality practically buried somewhere in the past, the notion of, ‘play’, can still be found, if truly searched for.

 

 

While I am not particularly recommending that you seat-yourself on the floor of a toy store, and begin playing with trucks, and making, ‘truck sounds’ (though about ten years ago, I did just that—in a local pharmacy--playing with toy dinosaurs while waiting for a prescription to be filled!  Of course I got stared at.  But at that very moment, I found I was laughing, and genuinely having fun!  And…I bought four or five toy dinosaurs to bring home!), you can certainly start off small.

 

For example, the next time you have to go grocery shopping, pretend that you are someone else. At the register, assume a different voice, a different body posture.  You can be—really—anyone you want from rock star, to historic figure.

 

Do not leave a toy section in a store unexplored.  If the mood strikes you, buy a couple of toys for yourself!

 

Try to look at Nature the way a child does, full of colors, changes, magic, and wonderment.

 

We all could use a little childlike, ‘awe’, in our lives.  Please note that I did not say, ‘childish’.

 

And on this upcoming Halloween, as you’re standing near the door to, ‘ooh and ah’, each costume while giving out candy, if you simply cannot dress up in character for the evening, at least save some of the best candy you like for you!!!!!!!!!

 

My very, very dearest friends, please know that I think of you so very often, and want you to be well, secure, happy, and able to freely enjoy life.

 

And please, please always know that I love you dearly!

 

'Zahc'/Charles

"A 2nd Rate Heaven?"

 

“A  2^nd  Rate Heaven?”

 

 

10/25/12

 

 

(When a savaging of pain, weariness, and overuse of medication would make even a brief, but fitful dream a bizarre, and twisted metaphor)

A note to all my wonderful readers:

While I realize that the description of persons, places, and events, along with any subsequent allusions to any apparent, ‘religiosity’, may—in fact—be counter to one’s particular ideations, affiliations, or beliefs, and—therefore--found to be offensive; in my defense:

1)           It has never been my intention to cause offense, or to—in fact—try to change one’s core values.

2)           The following exposition, and, ‘title’, were the result of a dream I had had, and as such...the contents, and any implied suppositions, and/or conclusions to be made are completely beyond my control; and do not necessarily reflect my own judgment or value system.

 

Thank you

 

 

To my very, very dear kind friends, and faithfully loyal readers,

 

This morning I discovered that I had—once again—fallen asleep out at the kitchen counter.

 

Both Daisy and I seemed to be locked into a repetitive cycle, where she kept wanting to go, ‘out’, to pee…or…to, ‘catch her breath; my subsequent 40-90 minute sleep cycles naturally involved my rousing to let her go out, then to settles down—having a couple of cigarettes while I waited, and then—once she was in—I found myself too drowsy to do anything more than to put my head into my arms and drift off.

 

This was repeated over and over again; for some heretofore not observed reason, Daisy would go out the patio doors, come back in about five feet, and then go out again.

 

Although relatively unwise to do so, I finally drifted off to sleep leaving the front door unlocked, and the patio doors open about eighteen inches.

 

I do not, ‘sleep’, for very long, but—when I do doze off, I sleep deeply, quite unaware of anything around me.

 

I have done this a number of times before; and in this neighborhood, leaving the front door unlocked and wide open, with the lights on in the house is the surest path to folly, robbery, and, ‘who-knows-what-else?’.

 

I know I fall asleep deeply-enough to enter the, ‘dream state’, and as I wake up so often, I always remember my dreams.

 

And should these dreams prove disturbing, or unsettling, a subsequent, ‘after mood’, can often affect me all day.

“A  2^nd. Rate Heaven?”

 

 

I opened my eyes to find myself in a fair-sized waiting room; it had two, opposing doors, but no windows.

 

It was very crowed inside, with single persons, and couples (of all ages) milling around constantly with no apparent purpose.  There were no chairs or benches, and people were sitting-about on the floor, looking at others constantly in motion.

 

Suddenly, I was aware that my late mother was with me.  It was difficult to stay together with all those people jostling around.  Somehow, it dawned on me that there were countless, other waiting rooms such as the one my mother and I were in.

 

There seemed to be a particular gathering of people at one side of the room, and I made my way through the crowd to try to find out just what was going on.

 

It seems that everyone was being given a clipboard on which there was an obvious, lengthy kind of test, or examination; one that everyone HAD to complete, and turn in.

 

In addition to the usual requests for name, age, marital status, income, telephone number, and place of residence, there were oddly worded questions about one’s life, one’s goals, one’s hopes, one’s dreams, and accomplishments.

 

There were questions that related to beliefs, and to important, ‘life events’.  And small essays dealing with character, talents, interactions with others, and…since it was as a typical test, there were a few mathematic problems to be solved.

 

And while there was no implied, ‘time limit’, in completing the test, there was an air of extreme urgency among the crowd, to submit the finished test as soon as possible.

 

Somehow, my mother was either exempt from the test, or else had long-since completed it, for she—too—wandered-about expectantly, but with no apparent sense of urgency.

 

Once completed, the tests were pushed through one of a number of slots on the walls.

 

I due course, each person’s test had been graded, and returned to them; the standard grading of, ’90-100, 80-90, 70-80, 60-70’, and so on, was written at the top right corner of the test in red pencil, and circled.

 

At the end of the waiting room, there was another slot into which the now graded tests were pushed, and, from a set of large bookcase, there opened a door I had not previously seen.

 

Those with sufficiently high test scores were allowed entrance into what looked to be an endless hallway; those whose test scores were considered too low were—instead—shown to a—now—exit door, leading to something outside.

 

Briefly, my mother and I were separated in that milling crowd, though I could see her stepping through the door of, ‘acceptance’, into that endless hall.   I chased after her as quickly as I could to be with her, and pushed my way past people lining up, try to find my mother again.

 

Imagine—if you will, my very dearest friends—a building kind of like a mall, but one, one hundred thousand (or more!) times larger than any you might ever see, and with multiple levels, elevators, escalators leading to a ceiling one could not see for clouds.

 

In it were countless stores, food courts, and rest areas, with entertainment.  There were salons and make-up studios, to make one beautiful; clothing stores—without seeming end—from which to choose one’s preferred attire.

 

There were food courts that appealed to every kind of taste imaginable.  And places to rest, to contemplate, before moving on.

 

Here, there was no sense of urgency, only one of delight.

 

I lost sight of my dear mother as she entered a particular salon, and was—in fact—dragged-back through the entrance to find myself propelled through the exit door, and to the outside.

 

There…I—and countless others—slowly made out way on an endless gritty, rocky beach,  beside a vast and utterly motionless sea, gray/green in color, under an equally gray and oppressive, empty sky.   Occasional fits of sullen breeze wafted to us the smell of decaying seaweed.

 

The sun—above—was but a faint and distant smudge amid the grayness of infinitely-high, and overcast clouds.

 

There was no feeling of temperature, only of endless desolation, and loneliness.

 

We finally approached a vast, and uncompleted ruin of what might once have been an elaborate resort.

 

Once inside, I walked, and walked and walked down seemingly unending halls of rooms that had no facing wall, and no door…clearly revealing the occupants inside.

 

There were sensations of pain and despair, yes…and an overall sense of hopelessness, shame and suffering.

 

For—no matter what the person’s original illness(es), or disease, or injury was, it was changed—somehow—in order to be seen displayed on the outside of the body.

 

There were those, for example, could be readily seen greatly enlarged, and diseased organs; on the front of some of their bodies could be seen masses of intestines, exposed and enlarged brains.

 

Some were missing arms and legs, while others had arms and legs too many. Some had two or three extra sets of teeth, or grossly enlarged ears, or noses.  Some—I guessed by way of personality—were made monstrous by the addition of horns, hooves, tails.

 

None of the rooms were furnished.  Instead, individuals, friends, couples, or families were huddled-together on stained mattresses, covered by dirty sheets; they were in constant motion, trying to find more comfortable positions.

 

Oddly, not once was I appalled by these sights, nor did I feel any sense of danger, anger, or outrage.  If anything, I felt a feeling of reluctant acceptance, even—cooperation—as groups tried to make room on the mattresses for new arrivals.

 

For a brief while I, ‘rested’, with a young couple who not only tried to make room for me, but to offer enough sheet to be covered.

 

The young man looked as though his intestines—having become five times their normal size—had burst-through the front and side of his abdomen.  His young wife was as equally affected, though I cannot now recall how. 

 

All I do know is that they were unhappy, miserable, but willing to share their space with me as they were able.

 

In time, I grew hungry, and found my way to an enormous cafeteria, whose various serving lines stretched almost out of sight.  And all were filled by people standing there, waiting to be served.  I picked up a tray, and found a place in line.

 

Before me, I saw all manner of delicious food, whose appearance, and aroma made my mouth water.  I could not reach any of it, though.

 

Further and further down the serving line was displayed the finest foods and beverages in all the world.  Yet, no one would serve it to me.

 

On my plate—instead—was placed bits of dry, stale, insect-eaten and moldy crackers and bread.  The only thing available to drink was bitter, brackish, contaminant-filled water.  I gagged as I tried to swallow it, and found myself crying, frustrated, and feeling unutterably lost.

 

I was—at last—truly, truly alone; I had no mother or father to console me.  No friends to comfort me.  No former co-workers to speak with.  Not even the briefest of kind acquaintances could I find to help me.

 

And while there always was a sense of passing time, time—itself—had ceased to mean anything.  This, I believed—must be what the conception of, ‘eternity’, is like.

 

Just before I most gratefully awoke, I had a sudden, puzzling thought: there was no appreciable torment by demons, nor was there endless fire.  Certainly none of the screaming, etc., one might associate with, “Hell”.

 

So…where was I?

 

Stuck in amber, forever in a place that was neither, “Heaven”, or, “Hell”.  It was—to me—sort of like some mid-point reality; someplace where they truly, truly evil did not go, but again, neither was it, “Heaven”, certainly not in any of the ways I had always thought of, believed in, or hoped for or even, ‘wished’, “Heaven”, to be.

 

However, my most dear, dear friends, and constant, loyal readers, it was a dream, just that and nothing more.  Something conjured up from the Unconscious, as may be affected by fatigue, illness, pain, depression, or sense of loss.

 

As such, though, I would think that my unconscious brain would—instead—concoct a dream more pleasant, more endurable, more evanescently, ‘happy’, in order to help cope with the rigors of daily living.

 

And…I must admit that I do—from time to time—have much more pleasant, even entertaining dreams.

 

My questions, then, to you my dear friends are:

 

1)           What do YOU think about the dream?

2)            Have you—in the past, or presently—have dreams like that?

3)           If so…what do you think they represent, or mean?

4)           Do you think there is a purpose for such dreams?

5)           Or a purpose?

6)            What—if anything—do you think we should know, and/or learn from these kinds of dreams?

7)           Or, of, ‘dreams’, in general?

8)           Do your dreams affect—in any way—the way you act, behave, or, ‘feel’, upon awakening?

9)           If so, do the, ‘affects’, of your dreams last part or all of the day?

10)    What do you try to do—if anything—to try to have more, ‘good’, dreams, than, ‘bad’? Do you ever, ‘journal’, or, write them down?

11)    And finally, how often do you experience, ‘bad dreams’, expressed as a percentage of all remembered dreams that you may have?

 

 

I have tried to relate to you the both the substance and nature of a most unsettling dream I had only last night; I have tried to be as accurate—factually—and as truthful as I could possibly be regarding subjective, concurrent emotive states.

 

I am most interested to hear your experiences, and your opinions, and any conclusions you may have.

 

Once again, I thank you so very much for your kind and caring friendship, and for reading my diary entries, and making comment to them, as I value greatly your opinions.

 

Please know, my very, very dearest friends that I think of you so very often, and want you to be safe, secure, in, ‘no pain’, or as lessened pain as is possible, and…happy, and well-loved!

 

And please always know that I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles