Archive | August, 2018

Disturbing Dreams

31 Aug

I dreamed I was a spy in a city. I was a pedestrian on a street corner, across the street from a big, post-modern glass building. I stood looking casual and watching the crowd walk by…but watching specific people. Many people walked by, not only on the sidewalk but also right through the street itself; there were no vehicles, only pedestrians.

I waited for just the right moment and was watching a tall and slender woman (she looked something like Tilda Swinton) and at least one other person. They were among the people who were sort of dancing in the street. The woman made eye contact with me once, or at least looked at me, so I worked harder at exuding indifference and blending in.

When a tall and slender male spy who was my coworker casually, slowly, crossed the street through the crowd, I waited a beat and crossed the street.

Inside the glass building, it looked like a library. The walls were lined with books. In a far corner, I approached a very tall ladder. Just above the ladder was a loft with more books, and a petite young female friend of mine was up on that loft and looking through books.

A very professional-looking woman in what I think was a dark blue 1950s skirt suit was walking by in nearly the center of the room, and she sternly said, “She can’t be up there!” She was loud, and I knew she was talking to me about my friend. I didn’t comment, just stopped in the corner and looked at the ladder and up at her. I felt shaken up by the stern woman’s comment, and I felt very nervous not only because of her but also because of this friend, whose personality was similar to the Worst Frenemy in the Galaxy, at least in her disregard for rules and her arrogant belief that they didn’t apply to her and she could do whatever she wanted.

She glanced down at me and spoke…but I couldn’t hear her. I realized she was behind glass. I looked up at her nervously and quietly said that the woman said she couldn’t be up there, but I doubted she could hear me. I had no idea what to do. She was sitting on the floor of the loft, sitting with knees bent and books lying around her and one open in front of her. She wore a brown tweed pencil skirt and a white knit top. Her outfit also looked 1950s.


Later, I was in dreaming that I was in a living room with a guy and maybe a woman. There was a white couch on the side, and someone was already seated at one end of it, and she was reading, and I joined her with a book I was reading, a biography of a Hollywood celebrity, a very unusual book for me. The guy (tall, white, wearing a suit) was standing over me and condescendingly criticizing me for reading such a frivolous book, about a celebrity.

I explained that if the subject of the biography weren’t famous, nobody would read her book, because they wouldn’t know about her…of they wouldn’t recognize her and therefore be interested in the book. He was standing over me, and I think I perched on the arm of the chair instead of the seat. Or maybe I eventually moved to a seat cushion.


I don’t think this was the same dream as the one with the glass building.

I was with a young woman who was a very close friend with whom I spent a lot of time, and I think we were walking around inside a large building, perhaps a mall or a department store like Macy’s.

She was talking and talking and talking more or less nonstop, in a monologue. I felt ill at ease, although she was in a good mood and I don’t think she verbally abused me at all throughout the dream. However, she was a lot like the Worst Frenemy in the Galaxy in her personality. She tended to be volatile, often changed personalities and would out of the blue be showering me with verbal abuse, so I was very ill at ease and kept expecting that to happen. I was walking on eggshells, as I so often was with her…although never sufficiently. She frequently managed to catch me unawares.

Gaslighting, Mansplaining, and Entitlement

28 Aug

Since the 2016 election from hell, I’ve been sick of straight cisgender white men who mansplain and smugly wallow in their privileges. They fucking know the world revolves around them and don’t object. Even many who think they’re progressive talk down to women and judge women instead of their over-rated selves.

They think they’re experts in everything, and they think they’re entitled to explain everything, including things they don’t understand and to which they don’t relate. All their lives they’ve been validated and respected and valued, not invalidated and ridiculed and hyper-criticized.

Women have been gaslighted since the day they were born, and these self-entitled men keep gaslighting us, even on a national level.

Homeowning and Social Media

25 Aug

I dreamed that even though I had a big house (that included an apartment) in SE Portland, I decided to get an apartment in NE Portland. They were both about a hundred years old and really quaint, and I was working on home improvements. The apartment was mostly painted white and pale blue inside. In the new apartment, I wondered if this was a good idea and found myself starting to regret it, since I already had an entire house and it seemed excessive to have more than one place.

I dreamed I had a big, cluttered basement and was decluttering it. There was a ping-pong table, and a few things on top of it. I had a large screen, like for a projector, and what looked something like credits was rolling downward on the screen.

On the projector, I noticed something that looked like a letter from the Wizarding world of Harry Potter. It said “Dear Skye… [last name I forget].” I exclaimed about it–that I had a magic name I didn’t know about–and Jill was there, urging me to write it down and saying something about how she got her magic name and found out its meaning after writing it down.

I scrambled to find something to write on and with. I thought I had a pen on the ping-pong table, but it was some elaborate calligraphy contraption I’d had since the 1990s and it was probably dried up, even if I could remember how to use it.

By the time I found pen and paper, the letter was no longer scrolling on the screen, and I couldn’t find that name.

I went to some sort of Harry Potter shop–maybe part of an amusement park. It was inside what looked like the hallway of a modern building, and it had dark tile. There were some tables with toys and figurines on them for purchase. I thought, “Why is it whenever Goodreads on Twitter as is what you’re reading, a bunch of people say “Harry Potter? Bloody read something else!”

I approached a cash register, with a young woman behind it, and I noticed a set of little cat figurines that were mostly pink. I was fascinated and rearranged them a bit.

I never did find again that name and write it down.

I wonder…was the dream about wanting to know myself better? Was it about how I’ve had so much trouble getting to know myself because narcissists and sociopaths have always been around to gaslight me and tell me who I “am”?


18 Aug

Facebook says that the neo-Nazi hate group page, Proud Boys, doesn’t violate their policies.

Just…wow. I reported the page, and they sent me a response refusing to take it down. Someone mentioned that Zuckerberg is a Dump-supporter, and someone else said they rarely take it down the first time you report it, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.
Um,  your white supremacist policies, you mean? Your pro-neo-Nazi policies, you mean?
Fortunately, there was space for a comment, and I spelled out to them the fact that it’s a neo-Nazi group. I wonder if that’s even sufficient, especially with a white male supremacist in charge of fb. I would totally dump fb, if there was social media that was technically about the same–with groups and events, etc., but politically didn’t suck.
Now I feel like continuing to read the book Fascism Today: What it is and How to End It, by Shane Burley.

My House has a Wormhole

17 Aug

This house is so weird. The invisible smoke detector is back to chirping, and it seems to be coming from downstairs in the back of the house…just not from any visible smoke detector (and I found 3). That part of the house is in chaos right now, because I had to get everything off the library carpet to redo the floor.

This morning, Virginia followed me when I went to double check a smoke detector that’s upstairs in the back of the house. She asked to get into a crawl space, so I opened a door into one of the crawl spaces, and she walked in.

A few minutes ago, I heard Virginia meowing. I’d forgotten about that crawl space and looked around inside and out, calling for her…before I finally remembered the crawl space and checked it. I haven’t found her yet.

This house has a wormhole or something….

A minute after I wrote the above, Virginia strolled into the living room. Apparently Virginia’s collar is in the wormhole, but I’m glad she isn’t.

Rowanwick Witches series

5 Aug

Since I self-published Rowanwick Witches, Lesson 1: Spells and Enchantments in October 2017, I intend to self-publish the next two volumes this October. They are:

Rowanwick Witches, Lesson 2: Gingerbread

Rowanwick Witches, Lesson 3: Violet and Steampunk Boy

I decided to go ahead and publish both the same year, because I wrote Violet and Steampunk Boy first. It would have been the second book, except I thought there should be at least one more adventure before Aunt Amaryllis allows Violet to fly off on an adventure without her.