Recently, Jack was angry that I wouldn’t let him eat Jeff’s birthday cake we were saving for dessert. So he ran to the garage and poured a box of Cascade detergent all through the inside of my car (Jack, not Jeff. Although maybe Jeff sometimes feels like stirring the shiz and doing such a thing. I’m not sure. We all would like to cut loose once in awhile, I suppose).
I drove to church and back covered in a powdery film that day, my car smelling exactly like the Members’ Custodial Closet. Eau de industrial cleaner; a burning, chemical fragrance.
We cleaned the car after church, clogging a shop vac and realizing that when you wipe up the remaining powder veneer with a damp towel, it simply suds.
It’s like the hot chocolate which is memorialized in my car. There are brown bits inside the steering column from The Cocoa Incident two and a half years ago, and now there is a residue of Cascade along the edge of my door and the floor mats.
Ancient peoples left evidence of their culture in petroglyphs on rocks. Jack is stenciling my car with his own unique mark of household products.
He has upped his Sunday game, but this does not concern me as it once would have. This is what happens when one has a) a molten center of peace, and b) Junior blocking the literal hits.
And so, in my contented state, I am left to analyze my dreams. Dream Analysis Blog is baa-aack!
I have been dreaming I am at large, organized events. Conferences, Reunions, Dinners, Activities. In all of the dreams, I am a little frazzled and kind of annoyed. I am rushing around, having surface-y conversations with people, and falling behind on a list of things I am supposed to have completed. There is a sense of irritation among everyone there.
Perhaps my children, who don’t do great in large, loud groups, have influenced me to prefer more intimate settings. Maybe the dream-stress with noise and commotion is my spirit telling me that I don’t cope terrifically well with large groups, or with itineraries. Maybe I’m a bit of an old person or an introvert in that Huge Crowds! make me tired. Maybe deep down I am telling myself that busy-ness isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.
My dreams seem to be telling me that doing my quiet child-raising/teaching/writing/meditating things on my own slow timetable amid perpetual outside demands is perfectly acceptable. Or perfectly desirable.