I had this surreal dream last night, it was just last week that KatSanto and I were driving around in search of hidden beaches when we discussed how we never have wet dreams anymore. Well I suppose with my poontang and all it’s not exactly a wet dream, or maybe it is more so than if I were a man… If I think about this too much my head might explode. What I mean to say is my mind went sour and I had been dry of sex dreams for months…

Well this past week I had been sick, the weather went from summer heat to cold and damp and it instantly threw my immune system into the blender. I was stuffed up with a massive head cold. I wasn’t too sick to miss work, but just sick enough that it was a nightmare with headaches, coughing, sneezing, the works. The first night while I nursed my fever and attempted to breathe I picked up some Nyquil and some Dayquil to ease the coming days, and the Nyquil…. it gave me vivid and initially saucy dreams.

GOD IT WAS GOOD. I had such a dandy time having dream sex with someone I would actually like to toss on my mattress and break some springs with. Sometimes you have sex dreams and wake up shuddering about who played opposite in your raunchy town fantasy. It was so glorious I wrote in my dear diary about it.

The next night after popping a Nyquil, same thing.

Last night on my last gel caps in the pack with my head cold submitting to remission I dozed off and had a really graphic dream. It wasn’t a sexy dream, much to my disappointment, but just a very real and very sad. I dreamt of this ex boyfriend of mine, but it wasn’t like he was there. It was like I was dreaming in facebook updates and there he was pictured with his lady love and she was pregnant and it was her dying wish because I guess she had cancer or something.  I woke up and I wasn’t sure if I had read that right, and then realized I had slept in for over an hour and had to jump a cab to work.

No more Nyquil for me, but the sex dreams were Thumbs Up!

I think I am really lucky MOTHER wise —- I have played witness to many friends in their bitch vs. bitch relationship with the matriarch of the household and it always left me with this uneasy feeling. One afternoon, when my parents had left me behind to stay at a friend’s while they enjoyed a Mexico getaway, I sat awkwardly at the kitchen table while my friend and her mother went back and forth in a tirade of estrogen fuelled nonsense. I heard a lot of “DISRESPECTFUL LITTLE..” and “BITCH!” and “YOUR ALWAYS TRYING TO…” it was draining just listening to it. I had never talked to my Mom like that in front of a friend, and I couldn’t imagine making a friend more uncomfy then being caught in the midst of a mother daughter dispute. It’s not like my mom and I haven’t had our spats, we have had downright nasty bog monster fights of epic proportion but they were always few and far between and for the most part, even in those attitude laced teenage years, my mom and I were always close and had a great relationship. Besides, I could anticipate when my Mom and I would both get at one another’s throats, it would generally be the recipe for the perfect psycho storm when she was coming into her bad week of the month and by chance so was I —- at that point there was no use even trying to avoid it.

I was sitting at my Mom’s place on Monday night because my sister Laura was making dinner for the family. I had heaved myself into one of the overstuffed arm chairs in the living room while everyone was pouring their wine and exchanging small talk. Sometimes I am incapable of keeping my thoughts internalized and when I am stuck in deep thought my face reflects everything that is going through my head. I can just picture my face getting all twisted up as I indulge in my bad habit of over thinking, and playing too many hypothetical scenarios through my exhausted and overactive right brain. Although I may not come right out and say something is bother me the expression on my face gives it away every time. At some point someone acknowledged I wasn’t swiveling my wine glass and making sly comments and I made the simple statement that I had a lot on my mind. I noticed my Mom looking over at me while I adverted my eyes back to some blank spot on the floor ahead and continued on tormenting myself with this and that thought about things that I couldn’t shake. We enjoyed my sister’s delicious “PRIMAL CHILI” made all the better with a squeeze of lime and a glass of some shady merlot and by the end of it my face had lost its twisted tension and I was back to wine swiveling and sly comment making.

I checked my voicemail this morning, it’s been two nights since family dinner and there was a message from my Mom saying she had to follow up with me on something. It can always be about several things, things I haven’t done yet, things I could do better, things that would be amusing for me to hear about, or something new going on in the life of Mom but I had a feeling it wasn’t any of the usual stuff. I called her this afternoon while she was playing golf with Ian and I was too curious about what it was she was inquiring about to care she may have been missing out on prime “back stroke” practicing time (if back stroke is a golf reference? I really don’t know) and not surprisingly she told me it was about what I had on my mind on Monday, and even though I said nothing to hint at it she guessed it right on the nose.

It’s really nice to have someone in my life who knows me well enough to know exactly what I’m thinking about even when I don’t want to talk about it. I am really fortunate to have a Mom that has been so supportive and inspiring throughout my lifetime who I can talk to about the tricky stuff.

Just had to say it. I have a stellar Mom.

I don’t know if I refuse to learn from my mistakes or if I’m just incapable.  I feel as though I am addicted to some hardcore drug that is sure to leave me on the streets with nothing but a shopping cart full of perverse old memories and collected cans. Like all addictions you should have that strong voice of reason in the back of your mind that talks you out of your inevitable moments of weakness or  it pipes in the split second before you take the plunge. Right before you light up your bloodstream with that pink dragon you’ve been chasing you hear the familiar “You’re wrecking your life” or “Maybe this would be a better thing for a Sunday as opposed to  a Monday”.  Maybe my voice guy is on vacation, or perhaps he has gone mute, or possibly he is just tired of being ignored and gave up the game a long time ago. I can’t tell, he didn’t leave a punch card or even a note.  

I don’t know why I am depending on a totally made up man in my head to instill responsible choices in me, I guess it’s just easier than making them myself and acknowledging that I’m entirely accountable for all the pain and suffering my silly choices are going to cause me in the long run. On the other hand, if I don’t make the silly decision then maybe I will be missing out on all the bliss and riches it could bring. That’s the thing about decisions which are hard to make, no matter what you take a risk.

Maybe I am looking at things too logically.

I used to blindly follow my heart and trusted it no questions asked. I suffered from a pretty severe case of “heart on the sleeve” which has now been bashed into oblivion, I now believe that I suffer from the opposite. My heart is under lock and key somewhere, possibly somewhere in the Nevada dessert encased in titanium and vanilla beans. I try not to listen to the old ticker anymore, she seems a tad sadistic for my liking and has lead me into gut wrenching heart break, followed by heart break, followed by let-down. So I just packed the strawberry tart up in her titanium and vanilla box and buried her until all that was left was a whisper of what the blood pumper wanted. I can’t say it’s been all that bad, I am doing quite alright with my heart under lock and key never to ride my sleeves again.

I have always let love consume me, tie me up in nylon ropes and leave me in knots next to the radiator. I never gave it enough space, which I suppose you learn over time. I could never keep away from the heat of it, I just wanted to be so close I burned. I let go of my own ambitions and lost sight of my own path and just recklessly went wherever the love was, wherever that big FIX was. I would go to the ends of the earth to make sure I was wrapped around that burning white hot feeling it gave me all the while my life spiraling out of control as I lost the puzzled pieces of identity I was trying to put together. When love was gone I was left in shambles wondering what had happened to all those friends I had, or I would stay up late trying to remember what it is I liked to do in my spare time. I couldn’t for the life of me remember doing things on my own anymore —— so instead I just chased love elsewhere, and then someplace else, and then back to start.

I wonder who I was before love, if there is any part of me that is still anything like her.

Sometimes I still hear a cry from the old ticker out in her shallow grave, wherever it is, just screaming for what it wants. I just don’t know if I can trust that feisty love muscle anymore, I don’t know when I will be able to close my eyes again and throw myself wildly into the throws of love and let myself feel again. The thought of never feeling that white hot heat that melted my femurs to nothing and brought me to my knees kills me, the thought of never feeling an overpowering heart break also leaves me feeling sore and lost. There is no winning answer.

I don’t know.

Friday Night:
A wonderful dinner accompanied by the one and only Elise Bradwell. A pitcher of Sangria was shared as she enjoyed a chicken souvlaki platter and I enjoyed my roast lamb dish. We discussed the future baby shower we have been planning and caught up on the weeks past events. After dinner we quickly distributed the grey goose into water bottles of cranberry cocktail and took the sea bus to SHINE. The bar was underground and there was no line, we made it down in record time and enjoyed the hip hop and old school hits  thumping through the hot club air. Danced my ass off with Elise while we shimmied from one side of the bar to the other dodging the randoms dancing up in our back business. Many highballs, a free jagger bomb and a good ol’ fashioned ass grabs were enjoyed by some. It was great getting down until the closing hours of the night.

Saturday Afternoon:
My hangover dissipated by mid morning and Matt and I ventured up Grouse Mountain for the day. 5500 feet above the city you could see  the entire lower mainland. We watched lumber jacks, saw grizzly bears, timber wolves, eagles, hawks, a BARN OWL (omg) and meandered about the mountain top in the sunshine. We enjoyed a cheeseburger and a cold beer on the patio overlooking the city, and I had never had a more thirst quenching drink in my life. We took a chair lift to the peak and I realized what a great day I was having, and that it wouldn’t have been as awesome with anyone else.

Saturday Night:
Lola and Elise picked me up after grocery shopping for our Kill Bill marathon. We spent the evening making chicken burgers on the BBQ and watching volume 1 and 2 —- amazingly Elise had never seen the second half which both shocked and horrified me. By the end of the second film I was exhausted from spending the day in the sunshine. I had an awesome night’s sleep.

Sunday:
I left the house at 9:30 to get in the HUGE truck which was rented for the dirt bike excursion. I faced my own shot nerves and decided to jump out of my comfort zone and do something out of the ordinary. A friend of a friend has a bunch of dirt bikes and we drove them up to Squamish to some trails and we took turns learning how to ride. I am not going to lie and say I was a pro by the end of it, and my nerves were still shaky as my bike took off and the concept of gas in the palm of my hand was foreign. I jerked around with not even a sliver of grace to back me up. I jerked around while I tried to decipher gear changes and clutches. I wound up taking off and screaming into the air while I nearly took myself and the bike off a cliff. I had a smooth ride up the flat lane ahead and felt like I had proven myself as a dirt bike bad ass and made my way back to the cooler and cracked a drink and enjoyed lounging in the lawn chair looking dirt biker chic in my black bandana and checkered belt.


All in all that was the best weekend I have had in quite some time.