wherever you go, there you are
Or, wherever you travel, you can't escape yourself. Sigh. Despite having to take myself with me, craft weekend was pretty good. It is always pretty good because it is craft weekend. Especially that Friday night feeling; of having cleaned the house and escaped the city, once past the horrible merge on the freeway it is all beautiful light and country cloud views, arriving to a clean and familiar venue, of having greeted your sewing friends as you and they arrive, of having the whole weekend before you. We talked and sewed, ate well, drank a bit. A mouse ran over my foot at dinner one night* and we decided that it was probably a native marsupial mouse because it was so unafraid and so round and cute. One of our number was brave enough to pick it up in a plastic bag and release it at the far edge of the property.
Because my life is as it it is, I was in the midst of increasing my Latuda (sounds like a Latin American holiday with party drinks but is actually a new anti psychotic with fewer evil side effects than the others, that can be effective against bi-polar depression) every second day. So on Saturday morning I had a whole one. I thought I might be sleepy but I was not. Indeed I was quite focused on my sewing and had a pretty productive day for me and managed to cut out three items of clothing and sew nearly two. They were pretty simple items, but I'm reasonably pleased with how they turned out. However come about half past nine (early for me) I started to hit a wall and went to bed early and fell straight asleep followed by a period of restless awakeness and then a period of dreams so large and vivid that I was quite disorientated when I woke. Indeed I could imagine these dreams escaping the confines of my head on the pillow and bouncing around the room, around the house, disturbing others. In one part of the dream, I had awoken early about 6.00 am and it was just becoming light but there was also fog everywhere, the fog was white and tangible like cotton wool, cold and spider webby. I traveled through this fog on a bus down Johnston street and then caught a tram along Brunswick Street and another bus through Carlton, to be dropped off in a strange suburb of previous dreams. The other part of my dream was in Queensland but somewhere more rural than where my sister lives. There were lots of people from various parts of my life there and we were all going to go to a country fete and eat cake and slices. It had rained and I went out to take photos of denuded hills, that were sad, like the way Gerard spoke about the rural countryside when he was depressed. I got caught in some very sticky and stinky mud and went back to say it was impassable. However my brother in law bundled the children into the old Prado which went effortlessly through the mud, sucking it up and spitting it out through the snorkel. Everybody laughed. Ha ha.
* I don't think mice are an issue there, I think it was just the one cute marsupial. Very different from the mice we get here.