Last night I dreamed I dropped and broke my glasses during the zombie apocalypse. I was sad, not because it was the end of the world, but because I couldn't read very well. And, of course, non-electronic books with small print were the only ones around.

Food became very scarce and without good vision it was also hard for me to tell the difference between zombies and humans. Everything soon went to Hell.

I finally found a survivor camp and, in the best part of the dream, met a really nice girl who seemed to like me. :) But it was so real (SO REAL!) and we had to get shots (long after things went south) to try and help us not be infected if bitten and the pain I felt stunned me.

I tried to wake myself up, but couldn't and so for a while I thought everything was actually happening. The girl (woman, really, since she was my age) helped me after I stumbled when I rose from the cot to let the next person get vaccinated. 

"I've got you," she said gently, then handed me one of my favorite books ever, holding it close. "And I've got this for you." It was so weird that I recognized the title because I normally can't read or write in dreams (this is apparently a common thing for most people as the part of brain used for reading is "shut off" while we sleep*). That I could see words only made it more convincing that it was real life.

Oddly enough, it was one of the best dreams I've ever had, even if it had scary parts and didn't always make sense.

 *
"Lots of people find they can't read text in a dream, that if they see text it's almost always garbled or hieroglyphics or doesn't make sense or it's fuzzy. People who can read in a dream will still report that the text is not stable; if they look away and then back, it says something different or there's no longer any writing there. So trying to read something in a dream is a good test for lots of people. Others find that things like light switches and other knobs that are supposed to turn things on and off work normally in their real world and don't do what they expect them to in a dream."
--from: http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/how-to-control-dreams/

"Take A Giant Step" shuffled on to my player tonight and put a smile on my face. The Carole King/Geoffrey Goffin penned-song is such a great mood-changer:


Though you've played at love and lost
And sorrow's turned your heart to frost
I will melt your heart again.
Remember the feeling as a child
When you woke up and morning smiled
It's time you felt like you did then.
There's just no percentage in remembering the past
It's time you learned to live again at last.

Come with me, leave yesterday behind
And take a giant step outside your mind.

You stare at me in disbelief
You say for you there's no relieve
But I swear I'll prove you wrong.
Don't stay in your lonely room
Just staring back in silent gloom.
That's not where you belong
Come with me I'll take you where the taste of life is green
And everyday holds wonders to be seen.

Come with me, leave yesterday behind
And take a giant step outside your mind.

Just like wine does, people have good years...not in terms of their worth like wine (everyone is worthy, no matter the year or person) but in terms of happiness and which ones are better.

I've spent most of the day cleaning and I found a box where I had put away some pictures from when my niece was born and that I need to add to my photo albums. They kept falling loose and I didn't want to misplace them, since they are very dear to me.

These past few months have been really trying and seeing glimpses from a better time helps more than I thought it would. Sometimes seeing your happier times can hurt when you're down, but sometimes they can remind you that happy and sad ebb and flow. Happy will return soon, it will.

There are some bands you might not necessarily be madly passionate about, but still have feelings for in your memory. I've never been a huge Chicago fan (except for "Saturday In The Park" and the stunningly beautiful "Colour My World," which would make even Cruella Deville cry) yet their music seemed to follow me all through my youth.

In middle school, our music teacher had us play Chicago songs on the recorder. He constantly used current pop music to engage our attention, though Chicago was never particularly the rage among my classmates. Chicago most likely works better with the recorder than the far more energized Motley Crue or Prince would have.

In high school, my sister became such a passionate Chicago listener, theirs was the only music she played in her room besides Madonna. I always found the 80s albums to be a bit sappy, maybe even emotional overkill, but the sincerity within them struck me as endearing.

Of the different lead singers who have moved through the band, Peter Cetera (vocals and bass from 1967-1985) has a voice that sounds very kind and genuine and even when I didn't like the songs, I liked his attitude. It's not his fault, after all, I associate that particular period of Chicago with being a wallflower at a high school dance.

The liner notes from their 2007 release The Best Of Chicago aren't especially introspective (it would be kind of neat to see reflections on their early singles), but there is this mention of Diane Warren, who seems to have written every Top 40 power ballad from the 80s and early 90s.

She has written for so many well-known singers, but I think my favorite song of hers is "Solitaire," which Laura Branigan released in 1983.

 

for more on Diane Warren:

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diane_Warren

(picture source: Lichaamstaal .com )

I read recently (though no one needs a book to tell them this) that someone's body language and the look in their eyes are always (always!) a better measure of how they feel and what they think than their actual words are.

Frankly, as long as they're somewhat civil about it, people might be better off being a tad more blunt with their thoughts and emotions. In the end, it could spare others the pain and confusion that come with receiving mixed messages.

Because, really, if a person doesn't like me, I'd rather they politely just move on...they might not even realize that how they truly feel shows forth in their so-fast-it-almost-didn't-happen "You're an idiot, but I have to be here with you, so I'll be nice" glances. To be hated is almost preferable to being tolerated or, worse, patronized.

As Chely Wright writes in Like Me: Confessions of a Heartland Country Singer :

“I hear the word "tolerance" -- that some people are trying to teach people to be tolerant of gays. I'm not satisfied with that word. I am gay, and I am not seeking to be "tolerated." One tolerates a toothache, rush-hour traffic, an annoying neighbor with a cluttered yard. I am not a negative to be tolerated.”

She is referring to a specific example, but you don't have to be gay to feel that some people in your life just tolerate you.

Maybe others' iciness or "oh Lord, not again!" attitudes comes from all that suppression and good manners most of us have lived with our adult lives. Maybe it comes from their admirable (but unnecessary in this instance) drive to follow the principles that define their personal, professional and spiritual lives.

All I know for sure is that having someone say something nice to you only to find when you look up later they're giving you a dirty look is very unnerving.