Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Where Do Minds Go When They Become Lost?

I have worried about losing my mind all day long. This is the result of a dream I had last night which was the longest, most detailed dream that may ever have been dreamt by a human. I will not try to describe it but will say that it contained elements of terror, self-doubt, shame, a totemic dog, and my mother's and my relationship. Also my husband's and my relationship.
I knew I was dreaming. I kept telling myself that this was certainly the longest and most detailed dream I'd ever had. And then I'd wake up but fall immediately back into it, chapter after chapter after endless horrible chapter.
I finally forced myself to just get up and get out of bed for a while and even as I did so, I wondered if I were still dreaming.
I have not quit wondering that all day long.
Such was the force of this dream.
And this is the source of my losing-my-mind concern.

It has been a most pragmatic day and so I don't really think I'm dreaming but one never knows when one's consciousness is wavering like a mirage on a hot highway. I made Mr. Moon and his Tennessee buddy whom he'd fished with a nice breakfast of eggs and biscuits and bacon to welcome them back. I will be honest with you- I am not especially fond of all of Mr. Moon's buddies but this one I like just fine. He thanked me about ten times for breakfast and told me how delicious it was. Also, he made the bed he slept in more neatly than it's probably ever been made.
These are things which impress me. Also, he tells sweet stories about his grandchildren and his wife.

After breakfast I did chicken tending and a little laundry and ironing. Oh! I took a walk, too. It's been so long since I had a good one that I was surprised I could still do it but it seems I can, unless I am dreaming, of course.

So, the picture up there is of Hawk, Trinky, Dearie, and Nora. I am thinking that very soon it will be okay to let the teen chicks out of the coop during the day. Of course they will be far more at risk for predators but they can run fast and I am fairly certain that even without a mother's guidance they will know instinctively how to hide in the dense bushes. The grown-up chickens may not like this but the time has come to begin the process of them all learning to know each other and for the young ones to begin to learn the yard and where the best places are for dirt baths and where the juiciest bugs may be found and so forth. Despite the fact that I give them fresh greens and fruit every day, they still need to learn to forage and so they shall.

My bathtub chicks are all fine. I can't believe I have only named one of them. I think I am running out of names plus the mental capacity to remember and differentiate between each one.
This is sad. I suppose I could just do as the boys wish and randomly call them Dearie, Nicey, and Butterscotch but that seems lazy. I do think it may be time to bring back the name Eggy Tina (remember her?) and honestly, who knows which of these chicks are roosters and which hens?
One never knows until either crowing or laying of eggs commences although theories may be drawn upon observation.

Meanwhile, my adult chickens are in their last backyard exploration of the day and will soon be heading off to eat actual chicken food which is by the coop. It is like getting a child to bed. There are rituals. Baths, snacks, water, stories, tucking in, kissing, etc.
Except that chickens do most of the work themselves.
Mr. Moon is cleaning the boat and I'm going to make some shrimp and grits.
He is home, now, and his buddy has departed back to Tennessee.

And that is life here today. If I have lost my mind, so be it. If this is still a dream, well, that pedophile hallucinator Lewis Carroll is right.
Please forgive me if you love him. He freaks me out and do not try to tell me that he was not in love with Alice.

I will not comment on either the United Airlines debacle or what Spicer said today about chemical gas and Hitler.

I am too freaked out to say anything about either but I will say that if this IS all a dream, I would like to wake up now.

Thank you.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. Thanks Mary-I'm going off tomorrow to see my younger child in LosAngles where it is WARM. I am a bit tired of the rain and cold, not to mention the news cycle.

    And I'm flying United tomorrow. Could they haul off a grandmother with a spiky hairdo? Anything it possible, I'm sure. But we have a gal up here who beat the crap out of a guy who tried to attack her as she was jogging. Yeah!!!! So kick 'em in the kneecaps and grab their balls. That's what I'll do, by golly.

    XXX and kisses,


  2. Eggy Tina. A hall of fame name that was Owen's doing right? I had been wondering about Little Bear and am glad to hear the bathtub babies are good. Your dreams piss me off.

  3. Some chickens we have known- Snowball, Henrietta, Alonzo, Putt-Putt, Dishrag(the most nondescript chicken ever), Fluffybutt, Whitey, Big Fluff.... I'll have to ask my boy if he remembers any more. None of our current chickens have names, well except little Whitey, she's a bantam. The geese have names- Pom is the gander, and the girls are Pim and Lois (rhymes with Huey who was her dear sister and my favorite bird ever, named Baby Huey because she was such a big gosling and ever so sweet... she loved to be fed by hand and also just loved to be held). We had sunny warmth for two days, I think I have made it through the dreary dreary winter!

  4. Naming chickens is an art, at which, as I recall, Owen was a master. Perhaps he will name your newest little ones. When a dream clings like that, the vapors can be disorienting. But if you're dreaming then I was in the dream with you today. May your dreams tonight be gentle, sweet. Love.

  5. I've often wondered which is real...dream time or wake time. In which are we awake and in which are we adream.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.