Mud puddles

I’ve been on, what seems like a semi permanent duality of consciousness. Existing here and somewhere else simultaneously. While I’m sure I should seek a medical and psychological evaluation by a professional, it’s not so overwhelming that I can’t function. While most times the sense of “living other lives” in my dreams, it happens in short very frequent bursts throughout the day. It can be confusing, but it’s like I’m shifting with the sun and moon.

During the changes it s like a changing of the guard. Every shift change there’s a couple minutes of chaos. Sometimes it comes with the same dream walking state but while I’m awake. One shift is around dinner time. While I sit at the table I get really overstimulated and need to put on headphones and try to balance out the senses a bit. So I know these can be signs of early dementia or But I’m not ready to deal with that yet. Instead I’m deciding to see where this other place I dream walk is and see what I can learn from there. here’s what I can share so far.

Every time I’m there it’s wet, and rich with green growth. It has the feeling of a medium to large city surrounded be very large suburban areas, which is most like any of the places I lived on the eastern side of North America. However it feels more like west coast. With the deep rich mossy covering of the natural growth and large trees.

There’s a hill on a suburban back street that’s dropping down to a cove. There’s a bi level house at the street with a short driveway leading into the lower level garage and stairs hugging the stone lower level wall up to a small porch and upper front entrance. The stairs are old brown stained wood that looks overdue to pressure washed and retreated. Walls of upper level are a pale yellow that was probably bright when it was painted 10 years prior, but now is like a faded photograph of itself. There’s a narrow sidewalk that goes down following the curve of the street and the retaining wall of the small property.

There’s an old pickup parked on the street with some rust spots on faded blue paint. A couple shovels and rakes in the back with two. There’s a couple stacks of white 5 gallon buckets. Not only can you smell the saltwater air, the earthy rot and musty smell of the trees and fallen autumn leaves. There’s a small pizzeria or something nearby. There’s a bar with a pool table in the back. The front of the pizzeria only has three small tables and a window counter with 4 stools for the few who stop in to eat a slice, but it’s one of those places that gets some steady business of takeout orders and the tables are spill over for busy nights with the small bar. There’s some green neon beer signs back by the two small single stall bathrooms.

There’s a brunette that works there that lives at the house with the old blue pickup. She’s mid to late thirties with long brown hair just past her shoulders. She has very Mediterranean features on a fair skin. There’s a younger man in his early to mid twenties who looks to be her son possibly, wearing an apron and a red t-shirt he obviously bought a size too small to show off his muscled body for the middle aged ladies that came in to see their friend at her bar/pizzeria and supporting her business. He is a bit confident as a few of those friends secretly not just fantasize about this young guy but a few have secretly had hook ups with the kid and they are worried their friend will freak out with them for “molesting her child” even though he’s an an adult, it doesn’t matter because he’s still her baby.

It’s truly an odd scene. I’m not sure what I am supposed to be seeing here. Several times I’ve been here but the image tends not to change. It’s quite the mixed bag of emotions. Mostly from the one woman who can’t seem to stop herself. Guilt, lust, happiness, loneliness, fear, anger, sadness. The poor woman is stuck and can’t decide how she wants to change her situation or even if she wants to? Her inability and unwillingness to make a choice keeps her in a state of torment. She can’t decide. She won’t. She instead sits buried in alcohol to just exist in that world with just a little less pain.

Published by Snowy Owl

There was a lot more written here before. Then I saw it was irrelevant. I am just another person with an autoimmune disease and spectrum ”disorder” who is highly sensitive to their environment. I thought I would write a few things down, so here you go. Swim at your own risk!

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