Sunday, March 30, 2008


I've been invited to go over to Richard (my son) and Abigail's (DiL) to have dinner tonight. I have purchased the bottle of wine I'm going to 'bring with'. But still, I wonder if I should just stay home... I don't know why I'm such a hermit but it's nothing new with me. I've always been a hermit; nothing to do with any particular people but sometimes for days on end, I find ways to amuse myself all alone... or talking on the phone and ignore 'real' people. A failing in me perhaps....

I bought two new pairs of Spring flavored shoes last week - online, of course - so I'll wear my sparkly zebra-striped Skechers skimmers. They're very cute and will perk up my attitude possibly and make me feel conversational to the other guests.

Must remember not to talk about politics, adoption, Canada or my family... I'll just nod appropriately as they say things and ask questions. Hope that works because there's nothing I hate worse than leaving the party and wondering why I said what I said... then thinking of what I should have said instead of what I said. That can bug me for the rest of the evening and make it hard to get to sleep. Paranoia... yep, I've got it.

I had a bad dream that woke me out of a deep sleep last night. Seldom I remember dreams but I remembered this one. Snowy landscape, cleared road leading to a large new house with smoke coming from the chimney... someone is telling me that the man hit his son on the head with a hammer repeatedly and he's to stay away from his family. We enter the living room where there is a 30-ish dark-haired woman on the sofa... she turns to look at us as we enter and greet her. The fireplace is burning. A 8 or 9 year old blond boy comes into the room. I wonder if he's the one who was assaulted. He won't meet my eyes. I turn to look at the woman and suddenly the fireplace explodes in flames and smoke making it hard to see. A loud voice tells me that the boy did it and a man with a hammer is in the smoky room... and I think "That's why he did it." I wake up scared out of my wits and can't return to sleep easily. My heart is beating fast. Oh, and the woman spoke French... we were in Quebec. Yikes... what is going through my mind to dream that?

Anyway.... into the shower with me... off to dinner!

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