Tuesday May 17, 2011

This morning, early, I woke with enough wakefulness to realise that the fan I left on, or put on, on the low setting, before getting into bed, really was a bit silly, and so turned it off. It’s such a comfortable feeling to be warm and cosy, and the calm descends and it’s almost like some restriction from relaxing – really, properly, fully – is lifted and it’s OK. It’s a release. And a relief. There won’t be waking up feeling like the heart is about to explode and sweating and being disoriented and having no chance to sleep again. Or the hot inevitability of fitful slumber as the best available option. And the mind can fluff up its little pillow too and snuggle up. A bit like Lily snuggling up into the caves and valleys that form in thick quilted bedclothes as two humans find a place that feels right to settle and read and sleep. The mind seems too often to be forced to sleep on the hard and lumpy floor of a cold damp tent, and it’s a pleasure to allow it its rest, perhaps needed for months, an overdue gift finally given.

Sleep wafted again over me. Clubbed me over the head and dragged me away, as it does so often with the aid of a Blackmores product, would have been better, but I expect nothing at 3am so wafted is good enough. And this light sleep produced a dream, set in Colonial Australia, about abandoned people – kids maybe, younger people anyway – who were all forced to fend for ourselves, for I was among them, and for some reason we were on our hands and knees and crawling, as if copying the native animals, I remember seeing kangaroos, and there were red coated soldiers and evil colonists and some indigenous people, and the crawling folk were making their way somewhere. Not sure where. To freedom, perhaps? And I had just been apprehended by some evil merchant or perhaps corrupt religious person who, with the connivance of a soldier or two, was considering what to do with me and my captured colleagues. And then I woke up. Not as if from a nightmare, all heart beating and stressed. Just feeling a bit like an interesting, albeit strangely twisted story, story had been cut off before the end. That’s what happens to we who don’t dream a lot. We feel ripped off when we’ve been an actor inside something that frankly sounds to silly for a twelve year-old to write. An experienced dreamer would say: “Doesn’t matter about that one. There’ll be something else tonight.” I don’t get the follow-up consolation. It was like watching something from the bargain bin at the video shop, eight day’s hire for bugger all money as nobody in their right mind would want to watch such straight-to-video 1980s rubbish, and then the VCR ate the tape right near the end of the movie. And yes, I recall VCRs. In fact I remember when they were new.

What then? Not much to report. I really didn’t want to go to work, but it wasn’t the sleep debt and other symptoms that often plague me. I simply couldn’t be arsed. And so the decision was made by a rational part of my thinking apparatus to get the hell out of bed you lazy prick – which I duly did.

It was cold. Even for a chap who likes cold it was cold, a trifle uncomfortably so. Invigorating is very close to shivering your tits off – it depends what mood you’re in.

A man reading the paper on the train said something nonsensically populist and silly to his friend about refugees and the Australian government spending money on programs which involve other countries, and Laetitia commented, with the same loudness, from our seat behind that he was, in essence, wrong. He sort of shrank from the debate with strangers which he had started, at this unexpected retort. Some people don’t relish a debate. Some people think their view is right as it is expressed with volume. Challenging often leads to withdrawal in these cases. I was embarrassed, and then continued reading my book, quite happily.

Not quite scarf weather, it was indeed cardigan weather and I was pleased with my garment all over again. At least I have somewhere to go when it gets colder. Jackets and beanies and so on are still up my sleeve, if required.

Work then – highlights? Nup. All blends into the whole to make a smudge of memory. Queensland announced their State of Origin team and earlier in the day that there is the slim chance of some supermarket prices trending downwards as new players in the grocery market do things cheaper ad costs can be cut by online competitors. But honestly, if this stuff is interesting to you, truly, it means the concept of the internet is new. And if anyone really thinks that Coles and Woolworths are likely to lose much of their 79% market share (or whatever it is) then it will surprise me, to say the least.

On the way home we met a number of dogs. A cute little black French Bulldog whose owner said, “Oh, he’s wagging his tail!” when Laetitia gave him a pat and realised how stubbly his little chin was. There was also a tall and beautiful white long haired thing on the street with its humans, talking to their mates, a magnificent specimen of something. No idea of the breed. And there was an enormous, and exceedingly friendly German Shepard, out for a walk with his cigar-chomping daddy, who told us the animal is seven months old. He’s going to be a monster. But so very friendly. And a cute little bloke sitting on the edge of his family’s newly levelled and painted driveway, who sort of winked at us. His granddaddy said something like: “Hello. How are youse?” as we walked past. I felt good about it.

Then home. Day over. Man Time and phone calls and generally being a lazy bugger and this. Now time for some telly.

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Published in: on May 17, 2011 at 8:17 pm  Leave a Comment  

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