Last night, I dreamed that I fell asleep in the studio for a few hours and woke up to find the city outside flooded up to the 8th floor or so. It was an almost delightfully horrific and surreal sight. People were rowing boats around, cowering on rooftops, in skyscrapers,, and everyone in the Fine Arts had retreated to the 9th & 10th floors, including the giant South Loop roaches, of which a couple had appeared in studio and I was frantically trying to kill with my ridiculously floppy ballet flats. My sister was there for some reason, and because, oddly, we still had electricity and internet access, were frantically searching the web for the cause of the disaster and could find none. The local news was reproting local events as usual despite the 8 stories of water, which was getting higher and the elevator guys were urging people towards the roof access. People were panicking, though, and there was a boat full who were threatening us with sicks when we wouldn't open the window to let them in which would also let in more water that had been spilling over the lip of the windowledge.
Though probably not as telling as the dreams I have about crashing planes and rounding up kittens or children, I was thinking about applications to waking life. Admittedly, I am having issues with boundaries lately, mostly people crossing them, or maybe just fear of that, of their insistance. And my response of course is to lock myself away and just avoid dealing with it. I hide alot lately, and want to hide some more. Sometimes the day is just a huge clusterfuck of misunderstandings, misrememberings, missteps..My head is actually a less cluttered place lately (I have moved to again to compulsive listmaking to get me through the week.) So maybe I am just noticing things more, dwelling on things more. So much feels like interruption, distraction, from the things I need to be doing (which is what?--writing, creating, the dishes in the sink, my taxes?). So much feels like too many bees buzzing in my head to let me focus.
