Saturday, March 13, 2021

One year of Covid, down. A terrible dream.

This time last year I stopped working. I dithered for a while and retired from my practice for real in May. Have barely left the house for a year. 

But this post isn't really about that. It's also not about the possibility that may open for me to record my workshop with the help of Little Ox videographers right here in Sask. and the dopamine hit I got from that, and not about the correspondence that has ensued as a result; it's not about the half-mile walk I took yesterday home from the service garage where my car awaited a battery check and oil change; it's not about the notice I took of how rusty my legs felt walking after a year of not walking. 

Mostly it's about me, how easily the dopamine hit turned into anxiety, and how my suppressed anxiety came out in a crazy dream:

So, it's the end of summer. I'm revving back up again. Why, I do not know... anyway, I rent a venue here in Weyburn (a venue which does not exist in real life). It's big and cheap. On the first evening, it is well attended, a good thirty people. Too late, I realize that it's an L-shaped room, which means that people in one chunk of the room can't even see me let alone see any slides. Furthermore, there are no snacks or drinks or chairs or tables. I get through it and am so bummed out by my utter failure at logistics that I oversleep the next morning, until 10AM! Good grief. Nothing like adding insult to injury, arriving really late to my own event. I get to the venue and do my best, but there is chaos. No one pays any attention. Next door there is a music event happening, and as if there wasn't enough chaos, it turns out that there is no wall between the groups! So I lose a lot of people to the music venue. I don't even make it halfway through the second day when I realize I'll have to return everyone's fee. Then I realize that oops! I didn't even collect any fees to start with! What a complete disaster with only me organizing it. 

I don't know what to make of the dream.
It was quite sickening to get through. I was glad to wake up. 
I actually did sleep several hours longer than usual, about 10 and a half. Must have been all the unaccustomed exercise. 
I suspect one part of my brain was trying hard to communicate with another part and couldn't get through. 
Meaning? Maybe it means I should a) do more walking, and b) learn to rely on other people again. 

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