Reading harold_maude's journal

When bits of my dreams are so real that it makes me ask those who are awake if certian things happen, when I do come fully awake, I ususally feel a bit shaken.

This afternoon was no exception. Everything in my dream was in vivid color. Brilliant and real. What woke me was the sound and glimps of a man walking behind me and away from me. I was asleep and I saw and heard him.
My eyes poped open and I sat straight up. There was no one there. A few minuets earlier, as I found out, there had been someone there walking behind me and out the back door.

In my dream the house we are in was elongated sideways but when you looked at it, it was elongated from front to back.
An optical illusion for the mind, I think would be the best description.
We had somehow turned all the walls into gallery walls and every creative work I've ever done was there.
Some of the things, like the quilts, were folded and stacked on chairs.
The lighting was so bad on the main floor and the basement was all dirt on the floor and there was old lumber strewn about.
The beams that held the upper floors up were rotting.

It was hard to see the art on the walls where the lighting was bad, but everything was framed and behind glass.
The frames were very ornate.

There were two women trying to go through the basement to see the art in the darkest corners of the room, and they kept tripping over boards, and then I fell asleep in my dream.

I woke to find someone I work with waking me up and telling me that I needed to get up, and finish hanging up the art.
But all the room on all the walls were filled.
I asked her if the man who wanted to take the art class and because he was the only one, the class didn't go, was angry.

She said no as she began to unfold the quilts and hang them from the ceiling.
That's when I heard the man behind me.

As I think about it, I think the whole dream has to do with the stress I'm feeling most of the time. Everything seems like it's never enough, no matter how much I do.
It's kind of like having sheets on your bed that are three sizes too small.
All the time. There is no break. No way to catch my breath. No way to stop the feelings of falling so short.

I've tried. But it always ends up not enough. I wonder if the feelings of my father have come to settle on me.
That no matter what I did, or where I went, it would never be good enough.

Some days I feel like I'm being chased by wild dogs. Some days I wake up feeling like I'm being smothered.
It takes a while to get my self in gear so that I can go to work, or even do things around here.
I would love to find a key that would stop the feelings.

Another weird thing has been happening lately. I will turn the oven on to a certian tempature, and walk away, and no one goes near it, but when the time for what ever to be done, and go to take it out the temprature has been changed. Either lowered or highered.
No one has been anywhere close to the oven. I think we have a ghost or two in this house. I think they have been here a while and are just getting bold about the things they do.

The foundation was laid in 1909, and kevin found papers in the wall from 1923, and this farm has seen it's share of death. Unnessary death.
Like the sheep that someone tried to raise and neglected and the lambs got wet tail and started dying and then the adults got sick and then there had to be bon fires to take care of the dead bodies.

Just down the road, or up the road is a house. There has been at least two people who have commited sucide there. Maybe it's just some dead people passing through here who like to mess with things.

Maybe it's all nothing, or maybe it's all connected. I don't know. I know I feel at home here. And I love this farm. Maybe some things are comming back. Like doing things and not remembering. I hope that isn't happening. Out here it could be bad if that's what's going on.
One thing is sure, that sooner or later the answer will come.
Answers to why my dreams have been like the one today, why I wake up feeling like I do, and why the oven temprature changes on it's own. It just started doing this a couple of days ago. The oven is only a few years old and the nobs take a bit to turn them.

Anyway....I think I'm just really really stressed out. And too tired to do anything about anything.

It only looks that way because your standing on your head.

Just got this thought about your posts: while reading them, I completefully agree. And dont find anything to add to them. As if you've read my mind. As if there was a person who'd think the same strange ways as I do.

Very spooky.

cu, w0lf.

Multiple exclamation marks are a sure sign for a diseased mind!

Wow...
After I had written some of them, I would go back and read them and think that it all sounds so scattered.

There's been this underlaying feeling that I'm trying to scream loud enough while trying to smash something under my feet, but it never stays still long enough for me to suceed.

Kind of like trying to stop jello from rolling somewhere.

It was kind of a strange comfort to know that they make any sense to anyone. Thank you.
Kind of like having a rock apear from the middle of a huge wave as it's crashing down onto the sand.

Thanks again.

It only looks that way because your standing on your head.