It's been quite a week, starting with two days sick and off work, computer problems (still), and last night I dreamt I was in a plane crash.
Where to start. Well, being sick wasn't serious, and definitely due to psychological stuff, and the rest (avoidance) did me some good (also turned out that a guilty conscience about not sending one finished job to the printers wasn't necessary as the job wasn't finished after all; I came back to corrections). I needed a better attitude and went back to work with a new approach. (Co-worker problems.) Upgrading the OS on the computer at work proved to be pre-mature since we have to interface with some pretty old systems elsewhere and the newest OS wasn't having that.
It's not only finally autumn (I wore gloves yesterday), but also that time of year when new calendars come out. This time I bought a Moleskine 18-month diary. Yeah, moving away from the hi-tech (my Zire 72) to lo-tech. I'm so trendy. I love shopping for new calendars. Bought Gary Larson's The Far Side Page-A-Day, as well.
Trendy, too, is power yoga, though the trend is fading in the US, said our instructor. But darned if Thursday night's class wasn't one of the best work-outs I have ever had. I really hate exercising but if I do anything at all for myself on the living room floor, it's yoga. Yoga works wonders for desk jockeys. Yoga combined with working muscles all the way in to your spine is perfection. I am really looking forward to next week's class. I'm sore today but intend to try to do a couple of rounds myself at home before next week. The photo of Møllendalselven (Mill Valley River) in Bergen was taken while waiting for class to start. I was a half hour early and in a part of town I had never been in before and wandered around a bit, discovering some things nice, some things not so nice.
My work week, with it's not so good start, ended well, and my boss let me have all of Christmas off (I have vacation time coming), so I can fly to San Francisco and visit a good friend there. Flights are booked.
I have no fear of flying, but last night I dreamt I was in a plane crash. I opened the door to get off because I wasn't supposed be on this flight, but the plane was already moving. I didn't have my seatbelt on and braced myself. I could see where the plane was headed, as if I was in the cockpit, and when we crashed, I was uninjured but thrown to the floor and breathing in some really toxic fumes. I woke up with the diagnosis acid burns on the inside of my lungs. What to make of such dreams? Then I fell asleep again, and was in San Francisco with my father and his wife, who wasn't his wife (and I haven't seen my dad since 1981), and we were doing tourist things but having a challenge with manure in one neighborhood we parked in. That last I got: I had walked past a container outside a grocery store, and they have a butcher shop; they had apparantly hosed something down and the odor from the puddles was nauseating.
My dreams (when I have/remember them) always fascinate me: They are pieced together like a movie, with changing perspectives (though my eyes are always the camera) and sometimes with variations on a scene in the same dream, but good dialog and definitely good pacing. My subconscious would make a killing in Hollywood. But what to make of plane crashes and bad smells and such (oh, and dozens of cats at one point)? Nothing. I intend to make nothing of it. I recognized a number of elements from my waking, conscious life so I know where the script writer got her ideas. And if there is anything more to this, if I find myself worrying, I'll pray for clarification. And remember to put on my seatbelt.