A couple nights ago, I had two dreams about white.
In the first dream, our species existed in clouds. There was no gravity, no floors or ceilings. There were floating counter tops, presumably upon which to place one’s belongings, so I guess there was some sort of gravity, the dream kind that makes no sense.
I saw an acquaintance, floating several feet beneath me and I swam down to greet him. We hugged, and I wondered how people were able to have sex in this place, with nothing to push off from. I had imagined that the thrusting would be difficult.
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And then, in the next dream, I was listening to a woman tell a story about her past. She had the reputation of a slut, yet her story did not mirror the accusation. She hailed from Texas and spent a great deal of time taking care of an ailing family member before traveling to whatever destination this dream took place. As she was telling this story, I was walking away, through deep snow and I fell under.
I was completely covered in snow, and yet, my dreaming mind remembered an SAS trick for just such an occasion. I spit, and noted the direction in which it fell so that I could make out which way was up.
I was not afraid, merely determined to survive. And I was calm.
Today, I was followed by a raincloud. The rain held up until I snuck out from work, quietly, so as not to attract the attention of the Rain Gods. How silly of me to try and outsmart a god.
The rain stopped as soon as I climbed into a crowded streetcar. Once I felt confident that I could venture home unscathed, I left the streetcar, and, after about a block, the rain started up again.
So I walked in the rain, angry about being wet. Cursing a god that I felt did not exist, mocking his omnipotence, and planning on writing a nasty post about the whole thing.
It had only been raining moderately thus far. I chose to accept my situation and tough it out for the rest of the walk. I was already wet, and I wasn’t going to get much wetter.
So I asked the heavens Is There a God? And then I wondered to myself, if there was a god, what kind of god is it? Certainly not the monotheistic nonsense that results in bombings and bloodshed, but is it a god, or gods, that are actually involved in our day to day lives? Does the god have a Santa list of who’s been naughty and who’s been nice?
Well, as soon as I’d started wondering about what kind of god there may or may not be, the rain slammed down in buckets. I was forced into a tiny nook, and once again, dealt with the acceptance of my situation. I decided to enjoy the storm, wait it out with a cigarette.
I had music to listen to during all of this, and the first song I got to hear while choosing to enjoy the experience, was what plays on the first video post. I like that song quite a bit, and I especially prefer that quiet version over the more raucous Loretta Lynn version.
The second song that played, of course, was the song on the second video post. Another pretty song. And, as it turns out, the two songs, the two dreams, and the two arguments with gods that may or may not exist all come together nicely in my mind.
It sure did feel nice to climb into some dry pyjamas, though.
