I’m so happy I’ve been able to stick to this blog writing for almost 2 weeks now. How are some habits easier to adopt and some hard? Worse still, how are some hard won habits so easy to let go? Those that have bitten the dust : Swish/swipe, hot spot cleaning, dusting, the daily mission stuff. Completely dead. Need to revisit. Those that are in their last throes – 20 minutes of movement. Really need to recommit to this one. Then those that I seem to be able to talk myself out of – waking up at 5, getting dressed in the morning. Hopefully, the first step in correction is acknowledging there is a problem. Fix it, Y!!
My Peter Brunton book is almost done.
Here’s a weird dream. I took a nap through the afternoon today and woke up out of this dream. Then it struk me that I had had this dream before, or this is a story I read in a book or saw in a movie. If the latter, it must have been ages ago, since I haven’t read any fiction or watched an Indian movie for a while. 3 Idiots doesn’t count. You’ll see why. There are 4 people in the dream including me. An old couple, their son and me. I can’t actually see myself, It’s like a movie, I’m like the camera. The son is ~ 23-25 and I get the feeling he’s socially awkward, sort of a wound up kid who’s really focused on having things go to according to plan and sequentially. Now that I think of it, like Chandru. The mom is slightly sharp tongued (light bulb, like me!). The dad seems to tend to be like the son, but not as sharply so. They appear to be trying to get an invitation printed. The invitation is to the son’s wedding, I think, but I’m not sure. The dad keeps saying they need to go to the printer and the mom says something like, “Amam, ungallukku ellam udane nadakkanum.” I can see the card vaguely and the printing press’s name starts with a V. It’s written in English. Next I know, the son is standing in a bus and looking out the window to see if it is his stop to get off. This is the old Indian PTC bus, I think the red kind. It’s decently crowded and I can’t see him too well. He’s getting off and I follow him, but we’re now seperated. I get off. It’s a rural road, muddy, seems to have been raining. I can’t see the boy. And then I’m kneeling. in front of upturned bicycle. the front tire wheel is spinning, a white ambassador swerves and speeds away, a crowd is starting to collect and I’m looking back over my shoulder at the ambassador. I wake up at this point.
I think I had this same dream yesterday and woke up at the same point. I didn’t remember much except the spinning wheel and ambassador. Today I got a couple morescenes. I wonder what it’s about. I have the feeling the boy has been hit by the car and is dead, but I’m positive I didn’t see a body. There’s just a what happened here questioning and the stillness before you know you are going to comprehend something enormous. And then I’m awake. Will tell you more if it happens again.
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