Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Flying at full moon

I ate my breakfast by candlelight this morning. Which, I suppose could be very romantic, but wasn't. 6:15am breakfast while rushing to get to work does not exactly lend itself to romanticism. Especially not when you are halfway through your Jungle Oats when everything just goes dark. While I'm grateful it waited until I had hot Jungle Oats, I'd have been even more pleased if it had waited until I had left home. I thought I'd been lax (again) with filling the meter but, no, the streetlights were out too. Quite an exciting start to the morning.

But my tale starts before that really. Again, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I went out for dinner last night with my parents and two other couples - old family friends from way back when. All three men are geologists (retired). All three women are geologist's wives (and a lot more, but that's the common thread). I suddenly realised, halfway through the meal, how incredible this scene really was (and is - it happens fairly regularly). There I was, sitting with six people who, when they were around about my age now, all held me as a newborn baby, then watched me grow up.

And this all happened in a small, dusty town over 1000kms away. They now all live within walking distance of each other (again, after moving apart and together at various times, throughout the past 30 years - mining people move. A lot). You see? Incredible. My mother makes friends. And keeps them. I'm lucky to have had her as a role model in this regard - she has passed the gene on.

After a lovely meal with these familiar people, I went off home, planning an early night, due to some rather large piles of Real Work, and Other Work, threatening to take over my desk completely and drown me (a rather unpleasant thought). All went smoothly and I nodded off...

Into the most fantastic dreams in which I flew. Well, more aptly, I seemed to float. I was so bouyant that I had to wedge myself between a lamp post and a tree to stay at a level where I could have a conversation with a girl I was at school with (who I have not seen, nor heard from in about 15 years). Then I flew off with my friend K (the one in Australia) on the lid of a roasting pan. Off above the street we lived in in Grahamstown, until, for some reason I can't remember, I needed to tear off a bum-sized piece of tinfoil from a roll that two other friends from university were using to create some set for a play. Then that became my my magic flying carpet.

They were very jealous of my flying skills and had been trying for ages to get it right for their play, but to no avail. I expressed great sympathy as I flitted away to drop off the dog we shared with K's brother at varsity, who didn't like flying (he was a puppy in the dream, although when we inherited him, he was fully grown), before flying off elsewhere. And then the full moon woke me.

And I lay for two and a half hours, trying desperately to get back in there and fly some more. But my full moon boyfriend, Insomnia, had other plans for me, and we lay awake chatting for hours, discussing my flight etc. while he breathed against the back of my neck. He's a real spooner that one.

And now... I'm attempting to scale the mountains of work, but am a little weary from my busy night.

I wonder if I need to see a dream analyst or if it just means I'd love to fly on the lid of a roasting pan?

1 comment:

Miranda said...

I too, flew last night! What fun. Mine was over the water with a black notebook as a steering wheel. Sorry about our boyfriend Insomnia - I think we need to find him another love...