Un Cauchemar

Have you ever had a dream that seems to shake you to your core?

One that seems so real, it is difficult, at first, anyway, to determine that it was not actually real, but just a dream?

And, though I said dream, I more meant nightmare

Last night, – rather, early this morning – I suffered one of these nightmarish, lifelike dreams.

I live in a house that also houses a religious space (like a chapel, but of a different faith) and a yoga studio.

This morning, starting very early, long before sunrise, there was a special morning meditation being hosted.

I was not attending, but I knew about it – similar morning meditations happen regularly.

However, after some recent events, in which one person who comes here regularly did not follow proper protocol for arriving, for cleaning up, nor for closing up after classes, I now always have a slight concern regarding this person’s reliability to fulfill the necessary tasks to keep the location, and, therefore, myself safe.

And so, last night – early this morning, after a potty break around 1am – I had an odd combination dream.

I was living in a different house, but it was clearly meant to be this same house, with me in my top floor apartment/area.

It was this morning, and I awake in the dream to find that no one informed me of the fact that the morning meditation was taking place on the top floor – aka in my room, which is not community space, mind you – but several people have already arrived and are participating in the morning meditation, and my things have all been moved out of the way and rearranged while I was asleep.

It is dark outside, still, due to the early hour.

Eventually, I participate in the meditation, as well as in welcoming new arrivals, and helping them get set up to join the meditation.

At some point, the meditations is ending, but I have to leave, possibly to go to work, and so I am not present for the end of it.

When I arrive home later, everything has been moved in my room to all new places – yes, even different from what had happened early this morning – and nothing makes sense.

Two people are still in my room, and comment, clearly somewhat bothered, on the fact that I am moving my bed to elsewhere in the room (aka where it had been in the first place).

One of the people is that unreliable individual.

I am too tired to care, and I need to go to sleep, because I know I have another very early morning the next day for the gym and work (as usual), so I go to bed and to sleep, while they are still discussing plans for something or other, still in my room for whatever reason.

I fall asleep rather easily, as I am so tired.

Suddenly, hours later, I awaken with a start and a sense of near-panic, as all my hairs are prickling all over my body.

The two from earlier have left.

But someone is in here.

Someone I don’t know.

I knew instinctively that the unreliable duo had not locked the doors to the house properly…

I was in trouble, and I could feel it.

I turn to find a woman in black suit, hair almost shaven, her skin only a few shades lighter than her suit, and her face showing a terrifying emotionless expression… almost animal-like… something in the back of my mind mentions a wolf, like the one from “The Never-Ending Story” a typically I like wolves, but this one was not cool…

Her entire presence speaks and oozes cool rage and the explosion of a pistol – she emanates a silent, fear-inducing aura, and her facial expression never changes… she looks and somehow sees me, and I know she sees me, but she doesn’t acknowledge me… it is clear that she has known of my presence and has been waiting…

My brain processes quickly, and decides to aim for pulling of a guise of ignorant kindness..

‘Hi! You’re here for the event, right?! I’ll take you to it – it’s actually downstairs. I’ll show you. What’s your name? How are you doing today?’

I carefully take her left arm arm in a casual yet ready grip, and then hold her opposite hand’s thumb with my left hand, so it looks like we are arm-in-arm, and then holding outside hands across our bodies… really, I am being extremely sweet and physically loving as a means to keep track of her more effectively – danger is the feeling of her.

Somehow, in this piece of the story, there mixed in a small portion of my trying on clothes for the morning… I currently had on a jacket that I was not going to wear to work, because it was too restricting and tight… and I did not have on my knife, because I was only trying on the clothes, and it was still attached to my actual outfit that I had been wearing… my phone was by my bed, and I missed the chance to grab it when I first jumped up to grab her arm…

I was evaluating my steps, and found concern in my lack of safety, but I couldn’t let go of her now and turn back – I could feel how that was the wrong move, even more so than the others.

And so, we ventured downstairs, arm-in-arm, as I chattered away, and thought of what options there were for me.

No one was awake, so I would have to find a way to get out of the house or call 911 as soon as possible, but without alerting the woman.

I flipped on a light switch st we reached the kitchen…, except that it wasn’t a light switch.

It was a sort of fan, a loud fan… one that could muffle just about any normal sounds.

Bad move – get it off!, I said within myself.

As I reached back to get it back off, I almost lost grip on her.

Before I could get it off and a light on, she was slipping entirely from my grasp, and making a move, stepping away and turning toward me to attack.

Just as I was preparing to run for the knives and then out the door, – I was ready to spring – the real Hannah jolted awake in her bed, sweating everywhere, breathing heavily, goosebumps all over her body, terror-stricken…

It took the real me a while to realize fully that it was a dream – I had to check that no one was in my room… I felt immediately better knowing that I also had locked my specific door before bed.

I was filled with something akin to outrage at the unreliable individual, as I sorted out my feelings and my personal safety, figured out what was dream and what, if anything, was reality.

Even now, as I think back on it, I still find myself wanting to avoid picturing that woman’s face – its lack of expression was frightening, almost like possession…

And the reality of the situation, that someone’s inattention actually could put me in such a situation (because I go to bed reasonably early, and I don’t always get to check all the doors after everyone leaves at night), is still frightening, is still shaking me ever so slightly on the insides…

Even now…

Post-a-day 2019

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Family

………………….

Journal entry for August 2, 2019

Today, we learned that C— has no penis…

………………….

This evening was an extended family evening, and a rather wonderful time.

There was chatter, discussion, story-telling, and lots of laughter.

At one point, one of my cousins, G—, shared this delightful story with us, and I knew immediately that I just had to write about it, because it was well worth sharing with the world.

She and her husband have two little girls, approximately aged four years and two years, and then a baby boy aged almost ten weeks.

Her husband, C—, was changing the diaper of the baby boy, and A—, the eldest girl, was observing.

A: Daddy, what’s that?!

C: Uh, well, it’s a penis… it’s because he is a boy… he is a boy, so he has a penis… that’s what makes him a boy, instead of a girl…

A:……. But Daddy, you’re a boy and you don’t have a penis….

C:… Actually, yes, I do have a penis…

A:….. Really?????

Conclusion from my cousin telling the story: Emasculated by a four-year-old. πŸ˜‚

Afterward, my grandma commented that she thought it was such a shame that no one was documenting this sort of thing, – I had already determined that I was definitely writing about it tonight, but I didn’t mention anything about it – and my aunt said that the point was people telling one another stories…

My grandma was worried that the stories get lost, you see, and so my mom leaned over the counter, and starter scribbling with an imaginary pen into an imaginary book, saying aloud, “August 2, 2019: Today, we learned that C— has no penis.”

My uncle, whose son-in-law C— is, and who genuinely likes C—, nearly cried himself out of his chair, he laughed so hard at that – I mean, we all laughed rather hard, but he practically exploded with his laugher.

It was a very good little time tonight. πŸ™‚

Thank you, God, for this blessing.

Note: Yes, yes, I know gender stuff is all up and about right now, however, I am not letting it disturb the hilarity of this particular stupendous father-daughter exchange – the story is not meant to offend in any way; it is merely something that happened that I find wonderful and worth sharing.

P.S. It occurred to me that, while I still am not there with the solo dancing I want to teach in prisons, I am at the very edge of receiving my yoga teacher certification, – a type of yoga that uses lots of meditation and mantra and healing exercises – and I could look into teaching that in prisons… something also incredibly beautiful and powerful and potentially extremely beneficial to those living in prison, especially as part of their preparation to move back into the world outside of prison… So, yeah… I’m suddenly rather inspired to get that certification finished ASAP.

P.P.S. And then, that had me thinking that I might somehow get the opportunity to do portraits of people in prison…. and that could be a beautiful project, be it for their future work portraits or for a neat project of sharing about prisons with the world… yeah… that’s gonna stay on the side in my mind, ready for when the time is right to act on it… definitely… πŸ™‚

Post-a-day 2019

Yoga-yoga

I had my practicum – a practice session – for my yoga teacher training today (and then my friend and I watched “The Bachelorette”, but that’s a different story).

And I passed!

Yay!

I mean, we (my mom and I) we’re both extremely confident that I would pass, however, 1) I was still nervous, and 2) I still had to do it and get through it in order to pass it…, but I did it.

Now, I need only attend twelve more yoga classes, and then turn in my (digital) paperwork, and I’ll become a certified yoga teacher.

I have lots more to do right now, this month and week, too, but, what’s funny and wonderful to me about this all, it is all stuff I kind of really, really enjoy doing… so, I’m excited for the everything I have to do these next few days and weeks – I am patiently and determinedly awaiting my awakening tomorrow, so that I might begin on the first of many tasks for the day and the week.

It doesn’t pay much money yet, but it pays some and it delights greatly, so this whole pursuing what I love to share with the world deal is going really awesomely so far, and I love it.

Totally.

For now, though, sleep and rest, so that I might be a boss tomorrow at what happens then(!). πŸ˜€

Post-a-day 2019

Yoga, again

I sat for my yoga teacher exam yesterday.

Today, I received a message from the course teacher, informing me that I passed with a 93% grade on the exam.

Woohoo!

She even threw in a little thumbs up icon at the end of the message.

So, now all I have to do is to teach a practice class next week, and then attend as a regular student twelve more yoga classes… and then I will be certified as a yoga teacher.

This weekend, I need to figure out how to get those yoga classes completed before the end of the month… being on a tight budget doesn’t really allow for a sudden burst of spending like that, so I have to figure out trades and discount classes, and just find a way to make it all happen.

Which, I am confident, I can and will do… I just have to do it, and I have just about two and a half weeks to make it happen.

So, let’s do this.

Yay!

Post-a-day 2019

Hipster Imposter

We went to a donation-based fundraiser yoga class the other day, which was focused on raising funds for a certain local pet shelter, while giving practice to some newer yoga teachers.

The class took place in a brewery.

I did not always understand what the teacher wanted me to do, and the people around me weren’t always too helpful with what they were doing, so I was behind at times, and I did some guesswork at times.

I generally feel that yoga teachers keep students in downward dog for far too long – like, I’m about to pass out by the time they start to mention maybe moving out of the position… and this is just about every time.

This brewery yoga class was no different, and even a bit worse at times on the downward dog front, so I regularly switched into child’s pose or baby pose, and then returned to downward dog whenever the teacher began whatever was next.

I also breathe so much more slowly than teachers seem to believe long, deep breathing takes… approximately three to five times slower.

I did a decent job of everything, especially considering how I didn’t know what was going on throughout half the explanation time, because I didn’t know the names of postures, and the teachers kind of took a while to clarify what I was supposed to be doing.

The class was enjoyable, nonetheless.

There were discounted draft beers afterward.

I, of course, drank my water, but we hung out for a bit so my friend could mingle with her friends, and I could be distantly social,… kind of like being social by association.

At one point, a yoga teacher came up and talked with us.

“I really like your practice,” she said directly to me.

…..

I graciously accepted the comment and, I imagine, compliment, and aimed not to laugh or be ungracious or ungrateful.

Since then, I haven’t really stopped wondering what on Earth she could have meant – I mean, did she like how I basically did my own thing every time we went into downward dog?

Because that’s kind of the only thing I did differently that could potentially be a positive….???

Haha

I have no idea, but the comment was positively hipster, and it alone made me want to burst out laughing.

Yes, I know that I am all sorts of hipster with all sorts of things in my life… I’m just not that level of hipster, you know?

But, who knows?

I did just complete my yoga certification exam today, so, I’m well on my way to achieving yet another level of hipster in the very new future… oh, and didn’t I buy a bright red scooter just the other day?

So, I guess I’m not exactly an imposter…

Like I said, I’m hipster, but I’m not beyond finding the hilarity of hipsterhood, and laughing heartily at it all. πŸ˜›

Post-a-day 2019

Freudian slip-thoughts

(It kind of makes me think of slipcovers and slip dresses…slip-thoughts)

Do you ever notice yourself making a sort of Freudian slip in your mind?

I know we have them all over the place in our spoken, verbal language, but what about before the spoken part, before the words leave our lips… does it still count then?

Today, while driving to check on my friend’s lovely cat, I was considering a piece of a conversation I’d just had, one which has repeated often recently.

I live in a yoga studio.

When people discover this, they often ask if I do yoga there just all the time.

The answer, of course, is, “No.”

Why would my life be so predictable?… we know me well enough to know things are never quite so simple in my life.

Anyway, when this happens, I tell people how I actually prefer practicing a different type of yoga – there are certainly aspects of this one that I love and that I love doing, but I don’t love doing the typical class of this type of yoga… it’s just not my style when I’m looking for yoga.

Usually, when I’m looking for yoga, I’m looking for stretchy yoga.

And, if I’m looking for stretch practice or help, I think of stretchy yoga.

So the two ideas, yoga and stretch, usually go together for me.

The yoga where I live is a bit difficult to do, at times, and you never know if you’re walking into a really tough class or an easy one.

They’re great – don’t get me wrong – but a work-out is not what I have in mind when I’m thinking about doing some yoga… I’m thinking about stretching… a lot.

So, anyway, I explained this in the conversation, right?

Right.

Thinking about it in the car, afterward, I ended up pausing to focus on traffic and maneuvering through it with care, and I sort of held my place in the conversation analysis by repeating one particular phrase over and over again.

It became a sort of mantra, as often happens when I need to pause a mental analysis briefly.

I continued repeating it rather passively in my mind, not paying much attention to whatever was going on with the words inside my head, trusting that they’ll spark the right memory, whenever I return focus to them…

After a few blocks of driving, I was able to refocus on my inner dialogue.

… And I couldn’t quite figure out what on Earth I was talking about inside my head… it made no sense to me… what could I have been thinking about that gave me this particular thought.

“I always prefer the super sexy…”

What???

I quickly began to analyze how I could mean such a statement… and I also quickly discovered that such a statement is not really true in any general sense – I don’t usually prefer the super sexy anything … unless it’s men around me… in which case, I suppose I might just prefer the super sexy…

… so that could have been what was going on regarding thought process: I was thinking of having sexy men in my life… except that I wasn’t… it didn’t sound familiar at all…

So that had me thinking about that in the first place, I wonder?… where did sexy men come from?

And then it hit me, how I got to such a phrase.

“I always prefer the super stretchy yoga.”

That’s what I had said aloud earlier, and that is the phrase where I had paused in my mental review of the conversation… the phrase that had been out on repeat…

And so, I suppose my relaxed mind made easy associations and relaxations of words, as I passively repeated my bookmarked phrase, as has happened plenty in the past… “yoga” and the following phrase dropped off the end… “stretchy” turned slowly into “sexy”… and there you have it: I always prefer the super sexy.

It had me wonder: is that a Freudian slip of sorts?… Was my subconscious mind telling me something within my conscious mind?

Why bother with speaking aloud, when the brain can handle the whole thing on the inside, right?

I don’t know.

But it did make me laugh a whole bunch, when I discovered what had happened… I mean, how often does yoga turn into sexy stuff, eh? πŸ˜›

Haha

Post-a-day 2019

Mandatory yoga and rest

I’ve done my first day of mandatory abstainment from the gym and stretchy yoga instead… and everything still hurts.

The plan was today and Friday off and yoga-ed…, but are two days in a row better…, or even enough…?

So, now, I must determine if my bodily exhaustion is genuine overworking, or if it is a bit of laziness and/or fear regarding returning to the gym.

At the warm yoga class this afternoon, I struggled with just about anything that used muscles beyond merely standing straight upright… which was almost everything – my muscles were just so tired.

It has me wonder if I needn’t take tomorrow off, too… and possibly Friday, even, if they don’t improve much by tomorrow night…

I for sure am going Saturday – that encourages me.

But I’m also mentally tired, and kind of want to take a break, anyway… taking the next two days off still would have me at doing three classes in the week… my self-esteem struggles with this idea, of course, because 1)it wants me to do better (in this case more) than most other people, and 2)how will my body get awesome results if I don’t put awesome effort into the exercise program?

As my mother mentioned, there is rather the matter of wearing myself out, as well as managing enough protein for so much of this type of exercise… I really need to check how much protein is important to have each day with these – I could be severely under-nourished, despite my increase in protein intake recently… an extra ten grams doesn’t necessarily compensate for an hour of pain and gain, plus biking to get there and back.

I don’t know…

I guess I’ll just see how I awaken in the morning, and go from there.

Separately, but related, my bruises are all over and do look quite terrible at this point… perhaps that can be reason enough to take an extra day of pause from the workouts – I’ll only earn more of them, if I’m tired too soon in the workout. :/

Well, we’ll see maΓ±ana, I suppose.

Post-a-day 2019