False Princes And False Prophets

What took ya so long?

Yes, I know I said I would blog this two or three days ago…I’ve been busy in the mire and mirth of life….

The Dreams

Shortly after arriving here, I had a very vivid dream that I was visiting my paternal grandparents at a palatial mansion with multiple subterranean layers. A blur of randomness composed most of the dream, but one memorable scene was preparing items for a baby that was not Freya (a random young girl was staying there and was pregnant).

And then there was what happened when I went outside, where suddenly we were in the Arizona desert and as I was walking around the front right wheel of a vehicle, I found a giant (and by giant I mean the size of a medium doggie) frog or toad. It was colored bright orange with odd markings, maybe a mutant poison arrow frog?

Anyway, I picked the thing up and said, “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.”

And after I kissed the amphibian, it pounced me to the ground and went for my throat, but in a “what’s for dinner” kind of way, not a passionate loving kind of way.

The second odd dream happened a few nights ago. I was in an unfamiliar neighborhood where nnumerous people were outside milling about, most of them of African descent, but some other ethnicities were represented.

Husband was there. He was showing me a warehouse in what looked like a converted barn. Apparently it contained backstock for his company. A woman wandered in, beautiful, less fat than me, golden locks, and flawless alabaster skin–I hated her immediately.

It turned out she was his girlfriend, and was understandably as incensed to see me as I was to see her. A verbal altercation between the two of us, with husband’s arm around me the whole time, led to my final line to her, something like, “You see who he’s got his arm around this whole time?!?!”

After she left, he and I went for a walk, still snuggling, and ended up sitting out in the middle of the promenade doing things no one should really do with so many onlookers while he whispered sweet nothings into my ears and fed me lines like how much he loved and missed me and regretted it all and everything I really do want to hear but know I likely won’t…

The kicker is, I ended up parting ways with him and was at a private dojo slash herb garden where a Mr. Miyagi doppelganger was eating a can of shrimp with a funny looking label and offering me advice. When the guy left the room his apprentice made sure to tell me that the shrimp offered the guy the power to inhabit other bodies and–as it turned out–husband had been one of those bodies.

Those two dreams were the basis for my Yahoo post about false princes and false prophets but…

It goes worse and worse…

I know that everyone in my life means well when they offer advice on everything from relationship woes to toilet paper brands, but it’s hard to take sometimes. I don’t like feeling attacked when someone mentions the way they think I ought to do such and such. And when you offer advice and I decide to take it and it blows up in my face, I’ve no one but myself to blame.

There was more to this story…

I had plenty of witticisms and current events to blather on about, but I neglected to keep a running tab of such and have lost the particulars. If you’ve friended me on facebook you’ll know about Freya’s most recent health ordeal (it was either an allergic reaction to amoxicillin or a viral reaction) but she’s okay now. If you follow me on twitter…well…you’re probably bored with me. I don’t tweet enough, and have several other sites linked to my account, so you’ll get some facebook or yahoo updates and you’ll get some othersuch things, but you don’t always get me. I try…I just hated the twitter app on my smartphone (it probably works great on other phones but kept force-stopping on mine).

What more could you want?

I did remember one topic I’d wanted to discuss…It should be obvious that I still love my husband. I haven’t been able to bring myself to call him my exhusband. We’re not divorced. We’re separated. At some point, he plans to file and people advise me that I should file if he doesn’t, but I don’t see myself doing that.

In spite of the hard times and because of the good times–I love him. I realize that unrequited love isn’t love in the truest sense. I realize that I should move one. But can y’all give me some time? Can single guys I happen to meet stop asking me why I won’t give them the time of day? Can well-meaning acquaintances stop telling me it’s all for the best? Can he stop bragging about all the wonderful things that are going on in his life and the wonderful improvements he’s made to what should still be our home?

Que? Sí dia…

I’m going to try to get back into the swing of blogging. I really do want this to be one of those regular (if unpaid) jobs of mine. But even with a drastic reduction in square footage my house never seems to be able to stay clean, and the frustrating thing is it’s always two steps forward and ten steps back.

I cannot blame a four year old for dishes and laundry. But I have a right to be frustrated that she knows better and doesn’t care in regards to certain types of messes she manages to make. I don’t want to scream at her or physically accost her, though. I’ve tried various less insane methods of reward and punishment. Of course her favorite reward is something I’d do anyway–a giant hug. When it comes to my house, though, since people have a way of showing up in media res, everyone seems to think that I must just be lazy or stupid or sloppy or some combination thereof.

My kids, though, are happy. They love me. They prefer my company to that of others (most of the time). And I love them. We’ll get through this. We’ll find our routine. I’ve already managed to wrangle my college (two As for my second summer term!). Things have a way of tumbling, knocking, avalanching into place eventually…

Sister Sledge–Just let me state for the record, we’re giving love in a family dose.

View the full blog at heartchasms.blogspot.com and like the blog on Facebook.

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