This is a travesty. No respect, no honor, and violence against those who are attempting to be peaceful.
Dreams are strange. I wonder what they mean sometimes.
We are driving in two cars, down a highway. Coming from a school play. Stopping in a small town outside of whatever city we where in, we went to what looked like a Japanese traditional festival training grounds.
Pulled into a shop, we where given gowns for women, and shirts and slacks for men. They had shoes and sandles for everyone, but I did not have socks, having worn flip flops all day, and the women’s shoes called for socks.
My aunt went back to the car for something, and the kind lady who was taking us on a tour of the training, but insisted we wear the normal clothes said I could go back to the car and look for socks, she would hold the tour, or I could wear the shoes without socks.
Now normally when I go away from the group, I normal end up in a dream of Supernatural proportions, the world goes crazy, I end up having to kill, battle, and fight my ass off. Which is normally an exciting dream, and I love them.
But for some reason, I wanted to stay with the group, put on the fun clothes and explore. I got the gown on, but before I could put the shoes on, and go exploring, my fiance woke me up. Quite sad. I have a good amount of control on my dreams, and I completely expected this one to be fun.
Oh Golly Gee. I’ve joined the damned band wagon of SPN freaks.
When my boyfriend (at the time) first put on supernatural I scoffed at the idea. There have been so many shows so much like it. Brothers Grimm, etc are similar. Fantasy and supernatural (no pun intended) are so popular now a days I really couldn’t get into it then. So I ignored the show as he watched it, kept my mind otherwise occupied. I did this for most of the shows life. From season 1 to season…7 i think, before I actually gave it any thought other than, isn’t this show rather repetitive. And I still think its repetitive. Dean gets powerful, ooh bad, Sam gets super powerful, ooh bad, Castile gets super powerful, ooh bad… so on and so forth and often repetitive. Sam gets deamony, goes into the panic room, rinse and repeat. So on and on I ignored it. Until this year. Season 10 just finished and I thought, what the hell. My fiance (see, he got an upgrade) has a new game, so I can watch without too many interruptions. I put on season 1 and struggled through it. I’m sorry, but season one is still harsh to get through. (Honestly I didn’t really get into it completely until bobby and cas show up, sad right?) I did this for each and every season, actually watching, noticing the character development, you can ACTUALY see the actors get more comfortable around each other. the character development, and each attempt at a unique monster story. (ok there are a number of filler episodes, but what series doesn’t have that.) And Charlie, ha, what a great amusing character who on so many levels hits home. So anyways, I watched it. Now I’m called Obsessed. I wonder why. Because I binge watch the show? I added the actors to my silly websites? I google the characters? (BTW becarfel when you do that…. Some people need a hobby, that isn’t weird art of…..stuff…) Meh, if you want to call me obsessed sure, go ahead, but honestly I don’t see how my final enjoyment of this series is any different from my enjoyment of Star trek, battle star, star gate, heros, Downton Abby, or big bang theory. OK, I might not fantasize (In a very adult way) about anyone on big bang….. but hey, who hasn’t had naughty thoughts after seeing something that catches your eye. Now as I sit here writing this, I am listening to season 1 episode 3 finishing up and you know what. I might just watch it again, in order, all the way through. Another binge watch. Before I see if something else catches my eye. Hey, Ive been reading reviews on shows like Vikings, Sparticus, even OZ or Orange is the New black. Maybe Ill have a new obsession soon.
As I stand just inside the barn doors I watch the sun creep over the hay fields. Dawn breaking the darkness in swaths of rose and crimson streaks against the early morning mist. Steam rises off the backs of the prized horses grazing in the fields. Young colts and filly race over the hills, challenging each other in feats of speed. I hear the rustle of shavings as those in the barn behind me wake for the day. This calm and relative quiet each morning speaks of wonders and mysteries that are slowly revealed as a normal day, with chores and work to be done. But the breaking of the dawn, that is what I wait for. Soon the bustle of labor will steal it all away. The calls of roosters, cows and dogs will quickly hide what peace this time holds. Even now I can hear the hens beginning to stir in their roosts, getting ready to offer the daily eggs. Slowly the cattle dog at my feet stands and begins her lengthy process of stretching the kinks and cricks out of lanky legs and fluffy back. She looks up at my face with a laugh known only to the canine family. With a half wag of her white-tipped tail she slips off into the morning fog to do whatever a dog does to welcome the day. With a smile of my own, I turn into the barn, seeing velvet noses already leaning over half doors, looking for their breakfast. Snorts and stomps begin. The demands of a new day have arrived. It wont end until well after dusk, when each two-legged person feels the weariness of long hours, back-breaking work, and repetition. For most the thoughts never touch what they’re doing with their hands, repetition taking over in muscle memories, letting the mind wonder as the body works. Grabbing a wheeled barrel, I walk quickly to the stacks of sweet-smelling hay. Its time to get to work. Tomorrow will bring another moment of calm quiet. For now, it begins again.
As I sit here listening to my horses eat their breakfast, I wonder what the future holds for us. It is likely in as little as two months we will be on our way to a new life. More land, a bigger ranch, freedom to run and play. My geese complain because they and the other birds havent been let out to range yet. But I, as warden of my little ‘prison’ as I like to call it, just want to let the calm of the ranch we are at sink in. It’s not a bad place. Too many up and not enough flat maybe. But its private, we have an arena of course. But it’s not enough. We will be multiplying our land greatly, with barns and stables already there. Hay fields, milking barns. A lovely ranch hidden in the midst of Washington state. Far from the drought, and heat of California. Costs of horse hauler, vet bills, U-hauls, Cleaning crews flicker in and out of my head as I watch two of my horses searching for left over dropped hay. I tell them constantly not to fret, and they have no idea why I tell them that shortly they will have fresh grass and more room to run. They just wonder what we might do today in the arena, or when the next little hidden treat might slip out of my pocket into a soft little nose. I tell my geese and ducks they get their own real pond now. No more kiddy pools for them. My chickens and peacocks get more than 40 acres to run. And the only one who is stressing out is me, the silly little human who has three chores in all these animals eyes, food, water and cleaning poop. They don’t know I’m trying to make their lives better, they don’t know it’s not the best already. In a few short weeks the vet will come out and give them all their vaccines, and test them all for those little horrors you need to know they don’t have before crossing state lines. It will work out, It’s just in human nature to stress just before the storm we knew was coming hits.
This is so true, in such a funny way.
Getting from there to here is a dirty, dirty game.
I can pretty much hear many of your biological clocks ticking from here, and while I think parenthood is a valid choice to make if that’s your path and you’re not doing it to get on Teen Mom, I feel like you need to be warned about what exactly you’re getting your ass into.
There are so many completely perfect things about having a baby. It’s empowering. It hard and then you do it and then for the rest of your life, you rarely doubt your ability to do anything. If that’s not the best possible takeaway from an experience, I don’t know what is. I seriously take issue, however, with the bullshit idea that pregnancy and birth are these lovely, mystical, dreamy things. Having a baby is not 9 months of sitting on a tuffet, eating ice…
View original post 1,416 more words