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Everyday Chaos

30 Jan

I’m cleaning my bedroom for the first time in a while, not only because I’ve noticed that it’s a pigsty, but also because I shall soon finally assemble the bed frame I purchased a year ago.

On the bed, I’ve found many cough drops, cough drop wrappers, a cat toy (a felt owl on a stick), pillows galore, a still-packaged new bedspread, a purple cat hoodie, some unopened snail mail, headphones, Doctor Who post-it notes, Feminism post-it notes, two glasses cases, used facial tissues, and thirty-five books. I’ve read portions of most of those books and finished several.

Maybe being disorganized is a part of being a creative person? Yesterday, when I told someone that my procrastination was one of the excuses The Worst Frenemy in the Galaxy used to hyper-criticize me, she pointed out that procrastination is common among creatives.


Plans, Ceramics, and Critters

12 Dec

I had a dream in which I was very confused about my plans. I was supposed to be gone a month starting the next day, and I had a cat sitter…but at the same time, I had completely different plans, such as an appointment the next day. I may have made one version of plans with The Worst Frenemy in the Galaxy but was no longer associating with her. I rushed home (from work?) with the intention of checking my daily planner.

At home, I heard cats fighting in the back yard and went to the kitchen window and opened it, because a cat was sitting in it. Strangely, it was a fluffy orange cat; none of my cats fit that description. It came in, with another cat behind it.

I went to my bedroom to find my daily planner, which I believed was in my paisley carryon. The room was very messy and resembled my childhood bedroom. I had recently placed my futon on the floor. I reached under it, and there was a long cardboard box full of random things, such as an unstuffed cloth Tigger that brought up a memory of someone castigating me because I had so many things, including that Tigger, and didn’t appreciate what I had. (That, by the way, sounds like The Worst Frenemy in the Galaxy.) I didn’t find the daily planner under the bed. I kept looking, and the room only seemed to become messier.

I came across many ceramics my mother made when I was a child, and seeing them reminded me that I should paint them, since the majority were unpainted. I found a large box in which most items were unpainted ceramics.


A different dream was set in the future, and I lived in a minimalist, futuristic house with white walls, including a curving wall in my bedroom. I had a large bed, probably queen, and I noticed some animals in my room. There was a full-grown orange chicken and two little ones, about half grown, one brown and the other black. I petted each and picked up a little one; it bit me. A one-foot-tall blue-grey horse was having trouble walking; it wasn’t in good health. I had at least one visitor, a man dressed like a Star Wars character who stood over the tiny horse and laughed at it when it fell over on the floor by the foot of the bed, which had a grey coverlet. He made some snide remark about it being a sorry excuse for a horse. I felt shocked by his cruel behavior. This was something like the world of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? in that animals were rare and hard to come by.