The Sarah Michelle Gellar Dream

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Sarah Michelle Gellar
Sarah Michelle Gellar
I had a dream where I was having sex with Sarah Michelle Gellar. Which is very weird, because she’s not really my type. I wouldn’t kick her out of bed, certainly, if she came up to me, and slid gracefully into my arms and squirmed around like she did in my dream. But she’s not the first celebrity I’d pick to have sex with, if I were allowed to go around picking them, which as far as I know, I’m not. I should probably check into that.

And in the dream, she was herself, not Buffy. Not that I know the difference, really, but I called her Sarah, and she said “hmm?” sort of absent-mindedly, because she was preoccupied with rubbing up against me, which was really nice, and I’m not sure why I was trying to distract her with all the talking.

I don’t remember much else except there was mostly a lot of kissing, and rubbing up against each other. And come to think of it, there wasn’t really any nakedness or actual sex, but I still think of it as a sex dream anyway, because it felt like it.

According to one website I read, when you have sex with someone in your dreams, it really means that the part of your personality that’s most like that person is experiencing growth, which is why you sometimes have sex in dreams with people that you aren’t necessarily attracted to. That’s a nice interpretation.

But I’ve noticed since the dream that I watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer like a fiend.

Update: Since this dream, I’ve had several more about Sarah Michelle Gellar.

Continue ReadingThe Sarah Michelle Gellar Dream

Things You Don’t Want to Hear During Surgery

Author Unknown

Better save that. We’ll need it for the autopsy.

Someone call the janitor – we’re going to need a mop.

Accept this sacrifice, O Great Lord of Darkness.

Bo! Bo! Comeback with that! Bad Dog!

Wait a minute, if this is his spleen, then what’s that?

Hand me that…uh…that uh…..thingie.

Oh no! I just lost my Rolex.

Oops! Hey, has anyone ever survived 500ml of this stuff before?

Rats! There go the lights again…

Ya know, there’s big money in kidneys. Hey, the guy’s got two of ’em.

Everybody stand back! I lost my contact lens!

Could you stop that thing from beating; it’s throwing my concentration off.

What’s this doing here?

I hate it when they’re missing stuff in here.

That’s cool! now can you make his leg twitch?!

I wish I hadn’t forgotten my glasses.

Well folks, this will be an experiment for all of us.

Sterile, schmerile. The floor’s clean, right?

What do mean he wasn’t in for a sex change…!

Anyone see where I left that scalpel?

And now we remove the subject’s brain and place it in the body of the ape.

OK, now take a picture from this angle. This is truly a freak of nature.

This patient has already had some kids, am I correct?

Nurse, did this patient sign the organ donation card?

Don’t worry. I think it is sharp enough.

She’s gonna blow! Everyone take cover!!!

FIRE! FIRE! Everyone get out!

Uh oh! Page 47 of the manual is missing!

Continue ReadingThings You Don’t Want to Hear During Surgery

Dying All Over Again

In the first dream I had one night, I was in my house, talking to my landlady down stairs when I realized the house was on fire. I ran upstairs to get my cat, and when I finally found her, I realized that I couldn’t get back downstairs again. Just as I was catching on fire, I woke up.

I got up and walked around for awhile because I was so terrified about the dream I just had; I wanted to stay awake so I wouldn’t possibly fall into the same dream again.

After I laid back down, I started to dream again. This time I was in an abortion clinic (I have NO IDEA why that would be the case) and I was watching a woman get an abortion. I couldn’t see anything, however. Thankfully. Then a man burst into the room carrying a pistol. He was wearing underwear, and nothing else. Tighty-whities, not boxers. He started to wave the pistol in the air, and everyone ran, including me. Somehow everyone else got ahead of me – you know how you try to run in your dreams but you feel like your running through Jell-o? And the guy with the gun started to catch up. And for some reason I focused on his huge pot-belly that was bouncing up and down as he ran after me – gross, but vivid and strangely hypnotic.

I realized I wasn’t going to get away, so I tried to crouch behind a car, but he ran around it, raised the pistol at me and fired….

… and I woke up again.

This makes a totally of 4 dreams that I’ve had about dying…

Continue ReadingDying All Over Again

Reading More and Dusting Less

Author Unknown

I’m reading more and dusting less.

I’m sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden.

I’m spending more time with my family and friends and less time at work whenever possible. Life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not endure.

I’m trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.

I’m not "saving" anything; I use my good china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis bloom.

"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it’s worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now.

It’s those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. Angry because I hadn’t written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn’t tell my wife/husband/significant other/parents often enough how much I truly love them.

I’m trying very hard not to put off, hold back or save anything that would add laughter and luster to my life.

And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that every day, every minute, every breath, is special.

If you received this, it’s because someone cares for you. If you’re too busy to take the few minutes that it takes right now to forward this, would it be the first time you didn’t do the little thing that would make a difference in your relationships? I can tell you it certainly won’t be the last.

Take a few minutes to send this to a few people you care about, just to let them know you’re thinking of them.

Continue ReadingReading More and Dusting Less

The Window

by Alan Seager

More about the origins of this story and the number of times it has been re-written and reprinted appears on Snopes.com.

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: "Why should he have all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see anything?" It didn’t seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window–and that thought now controlled his life.

Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence–deathly silence.

The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away–no words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed…. It faced a blank wall.

Moral of the story:

The pursuit of happiness is a matter of choice…it is a positive attitude we consciously choose to express. It is not a gift that gets delivered to our doorstep each morning, nor does it come through the window. And I am certain that our circumstances are just a small part of what makes us joyful. If we wait for them to get just right, we will never find lasting joy.

The pursuit of happiness is an inward journey. Our minds are like programs, awaiting the code that will determine behaviors; like bank vaults awaiting our deposits. If we regularly deposit positive, encouraging and uplifting thoughts, if we continue to bite our lips just before we begin to grumble and complain, if we shoot down that seemingly harmless negative thought as it germinates, we will find that there is much to rejoice about.

If by the mere fact, you are healthy, and can read this message, consider yourself one of the lucky ones. Smile… be positive… make others smile… and pass on your good fortune. This world is for those who are confident and possess a positive energy. So remember, it is when you see your cup half full instead of half empty that the world and those in it come along and fill your cup to the brim for you! Remember this!

Continue ReadingThe Window

Success

Bessie Anderson Stanley (1904)

This is a very beautiful quote, and Bessie’s grandaughter e-mailed me to let me know that Bessie submitted the poem as an entry in a contest for Brown magazine and won a small cash prize on the order of $250. That money paid off the mortgage on the house and bought a tombstone for one of her children that had died. The quote has been incorrectly attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson, who is a worthy fellow, but didn’t write it.


He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often, and loved much;

Who has enjoyed the trust of pure women; the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children;

who has filled his niche and accomplished his task;

who has left the world better than he found it whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem or a rescued soul;

who has never lacked appreciation of Earth’s beauty or failed to express it;

who has always looked for the best in others and given them the best he had;

whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction.

Continue ReadingSuccess

The Invitation

May 1994, Oriah Mountain Dreamer

From the Book The Invitation

The Invitation - Oriah Mountain Dreamer
The Invitation – Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.

I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon

I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, If you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with JOY, mine or your own: if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being a human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you’re telling me is true.

I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul, I want to know if YOU can be FAITHFUL and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from ITS presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still Stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "YES!"

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you are, how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Continue ReadingThe Invitation

The Snake Dream

My brother Todd handed me a pure white snake, assuring me it wasn’t poisonous. I held onto it for quite some time, and it bit me several times. When I gave it back to him, I asked him whether I was okay, and he wouldn’t answer, So I called poison control, who told me to go to the hospital.

This was such a weird dream because I hadn’t really talked to my brother recently when I had the dream, so it was strange that he popped up like that. Plus, it’s pretty unlikely he’d hand me a poisonous snake.

Continue ReadingThe Snake Dream

Untitled

I want to sleep on the street at night, with the chill ground underneath me. I want to dance with my eyes closed in the center of the floor, feeling strangers’ bodies moving and the music pounding in my head until I’ve lost track of where I am, and who I am and the only thing left is the movement, driving fast and wild.
I want to stand in the storm, soaked by the rain and listen to the thunder rage around me. I want to scream at the moon until there’s no sound left in my throat and no energy left in my body. I want to hunt with animals, silent and fierce, tearing at raw flesh with my teeth and tasting death’s warm blood in my mouth. I want to race my car at a hundred miles an hour and crash it into a cement wall; shattering glass and twisting metal all around me, the sound screaming in my ears. I want to cut myself with a razor, watch myself bleed onto a cold stone floor until I slip away.
I need a sensation to remind me I’m alive, something extreme; something harsh, cold, searing, electric, piercing. Something wild to wake up my half-beating heart. I want to build my own house, to swing an axe, to feel sweat on my brow, to exert myself. I tell myself that I’m happy–look at all I have–but I’m deceiving myself. I want a grand passion.
You color my dreams–vivid thoughts, stories interweaving, that I can’t believe I think of myself. But I awake and they slip away, I snatch at them but the roll away from me as ink on a wax surface. It seems futile for me to write anything, because I have no new commentary on the human condition that is unique and original. But I’ve been lonely and hungry for something practically all of my life.

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What is Wrong with Being Single?

I’m twenty-nine years old, and I’ve been single for three years. And the truth is that I’m happy about that. I just came to that epiphany today while I was doing my dishes, alone in my apartment with the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack playing on my stereo in the background. I don’t want to be single forever, but I am comfortable being single right now, and want to stop feeling anxious about my single status.

Sanctuary

I’m comfortably in a rut, as my friends would probably describe it, going to work during the week and spending my weekend alone writing, and reading to my heart’s content. I really like the way I live. My apartment is uniquely my own, and a sanctuary to me, filled with the things I love.

Everything is in it’s place, and I know where everything is. It’s not organized to the point of obsession, and I need to learn to put things away immediately after I used them, but I’m happy. I clean when I like, and leave things a mess when I like. If I had a girlfriend, all that would change, and I admit that bothers me.

I cook for one, which means I make a side dish rather than a meal, or get something from take out. In fact, I think I’ve lost all of my cooking skills in the past few years. I grew up as the oldest girl in a family of eight, and I used to come home from school, prepare the family meal, set the table, and clean up while everyone else trooped into the living room to watch TV. I’m sure my resentment of that responsibility has contributed to my cooking patterns now. But the fact remains that I once could cook a Thanksgiving dinner, and now when face with a simple meal, I’m at a loss. And I don’t mind that at all.

My Family Background

I think the reason I value my time alone so much, that I fiercely guard it, is because I grew up in a house where I was never alone. I shared a room with my little sister and a house with four brothers. There was noise all the time, everywhere.

I learned really bad communications skills that I still need to work to undo: the sense that no one was listening to me gave me the habit of repeating myself over and over, as well as the habit of interrupting and speaking louder when trying to make a point. I’ve lost some of those habits from living in the real world, but I still fall back on them at times.

I had no privacy growing up unless I was in the bathroom, and that only lasted until someone started pounding on the door to get in. Now, I love nothing more than lighting candles all around my apartment and sitting in relative quiet with my thoughts, especially after I’ve interacted all week with people at work.

All My Coupled Friends

Up until this point, I’ve been fearing there’s something wrong with me for not pursuing a relationship strenuously, for not making it a priority in my life. And my friends have certainly reinforced my fears.

My friend P., who has known me for about six years, I think, was grilling me on this subject in the bar a few months ago. She had just broken up with her girlfriend of many years, and confessed to me that the two of them had been analyzing me in their spare time, trying to figure out why I was single. "You’re attractive, humorous and you have a decent personality…"

Of course, this analysis immediately made me self-conscious, and rather than defending my comfortable lifestyle, I immediately focused on the word "decent," questioning whether she was suggesting there was something wrong with my personality, and suddenly filling with a self-doubt that I never feel when I’m alone; only with my friends.

It doesn’t help that I made a ton of new friends this past summer, who at that time were single, but quickly paired up when winter came. I used to get phone calls to run around and do something every day. Now I’m lucky if I see my friends once a week. And when I do, the awkwardness of the triad is always the elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about.

I’ve become a single burden to my coupled friends, and as a result, they either avoid spending time with me, or try endlessly to set me up with someone else. In fact, the last relationship I was in three-years ago was with a woman my friend P. set me up with. And I’ve been tricked into every conceivable setup situation since, so that I’m suspicious whenever someone’s single friends are around.

Continue ReadingWhat is Wrong with Being Single?