The Swing

It is beautifully warm today, a real Summer’s day with the hot African sun blistering through already, despite it being only 7 am when I leave home for Real Work. I take off the little cardigan I’d put on, being unsure of what today would bring after yesterday’s chilliness and rain. I won’t be needing it today.

On my way to work in a small side street that we take to avoid the traffic is a swing. It hangs on the branch of a huge, gracious tree, above a patch of green grass, facing the road. It is one of those children’s drawing swings – a wooden plank with rope handles. They’re particularly long rope handles, tied to a big branch high up in the tree.

I am fascinated by the swing. I see it each morning, sitting there, quite still, watching the traffic drive by. It moves slightly if it is windy. I can sometimes see children sitting on it, even though they're not there so early. I guess it's just the imprint of the ones who use it when I'm not there. When it swings, it’ll swing right out into the road and I wonder if it’s high enough to be above the cars?

I hope so.

Voices in the night

I was woken up last night by someone saying very loudly, twice, something like "Bracko". This is wierd from two angles. Firstly, what the hell does "Bracko" mean, and secondly, I was alone, except for Big Black Dog, sleeping in the lounge (who has previously never said anything in English) and The Siamese Princess, sleeping on me (ditto).

But I definitely was woken and heard it, loudly. I have a ghost, but she's never spoken before, and she's a she. This was a male voice. Again, I wonder if this was some kind of dream/sleep in-betweenness. Anyway, I decided it best for me to do some investigating as to what this "Bracko" was and if it has some deeper meaning. My searchings resulted only in things that sound similar, but aren't really "Bracko":

Dictionary.com:
Brčko District, a district in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Wikipedia:
Bačka (Serbian Cyrillic and Rusyn: Бачка, Hungarian: Bácska, Serbian Latin and Croatian: Bačka, Slovak: Báčka) is an area of the Pannonian plain lying between the rivers Danube and Tisa. It is divided between Serbia and Hungary, with small uninhabited pockets of land on the left bank of the Danube which, according to Croatian POV, belong to Croatia, but are under Serbian control since 1991 (see disputes of Croatia and Serbia).

It all seems very Eastern European - perhaps I'm adopted and I have Eastern European routes. I had imaginings of the movie "Black Cat, White Cat" and me, gypsey-like, with a wierd and wonderful family who all play the fiddle, drink too much and throw wild, love-filled parties. Then I remembered that I have my father's chin and my mother's personality and my father's temperment and my mother's disposition and I had to chuck that theory.

I decided I needed to Google it, being The Google Girl. The first three hits were:

1. The Bracko Brothers: a furniture supplier in Calgary. They've been going for 25 years and supply both mass-produced and handcrafted furnitures of all kinds. I like a family business, but couldn't see how this could possibly relate to me. While I do need another bookshelf (mine has got to the stage where the gaps between the books and the next shelf are a being filled with books too), it seems a bit silly to order one from Calgary - one needs to be aware of one's carbon footprint!
2. Bracko Kennels, also in Canada (I wonder if they're related? Maybe I'll e-mail and ask). Breeders of a very fluffy looking small dog called a Shiba Inu - apparently a Japanese breed previously used in the mountais to hunt for small animals and birds. According to them, were it not for some dedicated people in the '30's they'd have been extinct. Instead they were declared a natural monument (WTF?). I don't like small dogs so I'll leave it at that.
3. Dr Bracko: sports physiologist and hockey expert. Let's just say ball skills were never, and will never, be my thing. He also lives in Calgary.

So, with all that researching, I feel no closer to the meaning of it all. I'm going with: Either someone's trying to tell me I need to go on holiday to Eastern Europe, or I have some kind of connection to the Bracko family of Calgary. Alternatively, I really need to get some lavender oil to sprinkle on my pillow to ensure uninterrupted sleep - my mind is way too active for my own good.
Or, maybe one of the Bracko son's is my destiny. Now if it turned out that way, it'd be pretty bloody freaky, wouldn't it?

Ghosts and dreams

I had the wierdest night last night. This seems to be becoming a recurring theme... I wonder if I should start worrying? Anyway, let's leave that point just there, this is neither the time nor place for looking into my psyche. Hmm, maybe it is. Maybe that's what this is about. Nah. Buggerit, back to the story. After being offered some really fun work, like in being-given-money-for-writing work yesterday I was, obviously, thrilled. The BFF came over and we celebrated with champagne. On. A. Monday. Night. I mean, really. It was great fun at the time, but now I have a fuzzy head and that's not fun. I will, again, blame The BFF (this is the only place I can get away with that, so I'm going to use it. Over and over. And, possibly, over again).

Anyway, after going to sleep relatively early, I was awoken by someone using the bathroom next to my bedroom. It was wierd though because it sounded like my door was shut, and the bathroom door was shut - muffled-like. Now, I can't sleep with my door (and window) shut. It gives me (more) wild dreams and makes me feel like I can't breathe. I guess it's my version of claustrophobia. So my door is always slightly open, and the window wide. The bathroom door, too, is always open.

This is getting rambling. I heard the clank of the toilet paper holder, the flush of the loo, and then the sound of the taps as the person washed their hands. Of course, I assumed it to be The Pond, and was waiting for her to come out to ask if she was okay (it was aboout 2:20am, give-or-take), but nobody came out. On asking her this morning, she announced she'd slept straight through the night. I have to assume it was the ghost. I have seen her once before, many years ago. She came into my room, stood at the door, and then left that time.

I know I sound kind of blase about this. The thing is, I get no feeling of malcontent from this thing, and I'm not really sure that I'm not just dreaming. It seems real though, and I spent about two hours afterwards thinking about it (so, yes, I'm tired, very). I often have very realistic dreams but, when I wake up, I can discern that they were dreams after thinking for a bit. Mainly, though, I got to wondering whether ghosts actually pee, and how they'd wash their hands?

Then I finally fell asleep and had inappropriate dreams about a Danny de Vito-type character who seemed to be a bit like Willy Wonka, but without the sweets, unfortunately. It was all a little creepy. The creepier thing, though, was I seemed not to be that creeped out in the dream.

Maybe it is time I gave my psyche a good old dusting?