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Syellow cottono I got married Wednesday morning…in my dreams….the ceremony was tacked on to a municipal public meeting, (no idea which one, it was a basement) and it was suppose to be small, but word got out and tons of people came out.

The bride wore a yellow cotton dress…the groom, and apparently was a willing participant, wore a suit, well a black jacket, black pants and a white shirt, no tie. He was all kinds of pretty. NO idea who he was, but apparently I knew him.

We decorated the basement with paintings to spruce it up, art and flowers.

I had just perched on the groom’s knee with a hot cuppa tea after it was all over, when I was woken up by a cat.

I’m a vivid dreamer, I dream in full colour with all my senses, so my dreams can be very real and very intense.  Waking up while in a dream, ensures I’ll remember it, but I have to repeat the situation over and over in my head otherwise it will fade away, no matter how hard I try and remember later.

Generally I like my dreams, and often I’d like to stay in them longer, as reality is not so much fun.

As someone who hasn’t been out on a date in years, the whole idea of having someone in my life, that I’m with enough to consider marrying, is just bizarre.  And yet there’s a little tiny piece of me that misses that human connection.

So the dress is not 100% what I recall from the dream – one day Google will KNOW what we’ve dreamed and it will prioritize in our morning search – but the colour is close, and the fabric is a light cotton.  I have a new pink cotton summer dress which is exactly what I was wearing, except it was yellow.

And yes there’s a part of me that wants to go to the Keady Market, where I bought the pink one, to see if I can find a yellow one, because I really like it!

But dreams are fits of imagination, and I have some theories on why my brain chose to play out this imagery, and none of those theories are romantic in nature.  I see this as a dream about committing to something I’m working on.

But hey, I’m open to literal translations and foreshadowing as well!

Wordless Wednesday

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Six miles to go

kermit singing Did the other half of the mile this morning.  Pretty tired and cranky, super long day at work today.  Not enough calories in today I think.

But as per ‘countdown’ here’s a 6 list:

6 favourite, can’t do without musical groups:

  • Great Big Sea
  • Fun
  • ABBA
  • The Muppets (because, you know…Muppets!!!)
  • The Barenaked Ladies
  • The Beatles

One of the women who swims at the same time I swim, is an astrologist. It doesn’t matter to me if you believe, or even if I believe, she believes, and that’s totally fine. And I find our conversations fascinating.

Well she told me this morning that this week is going to be an emotional week, for everyone.  She didn’t say why, just that everyone would be a little raw.it is

I would have thought the weather would have been the cause – where is our summer? – but I guess the inter-stella weather is also out of whack.

I was only able to do a half mile this morning.  I could have pushed through and got the mile in, but why?  Why push?  Who am I trying to impress?  I know I can swim a mile in 47 minutes.  I know I haven’t swam for almost a week, time to ease back into it.  Half a mile tomorrow, then a full mile Thursday and back in routine.

But it’s just going to be an emotional week.  Lots on the plate, expectations are high, lots to do, and not enough time, energy to get it all done.  But we’ll give it a shot and what will be, will be.

 

Public Food-Shaming Is The Insidious Type Of Street Harassment No One Is Talking About

People should be able to walk down the street eating without worrying about comment or harassment from strangers. That seems like common sense. But the sad reality is that for women, eating in public can be fraught with unwanted commentary, sexual innuendo and judgment. Doing so can turn a pleasant evening into an exercise in maintaining a semblance of self-esteem.

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Commitment….sort of

commit

commit 2

Francesca:

This!

Originally posted on iwantedwings:

Imagine this:

The year is 2014. You are a white Western woman. You wake up in the morning in a comfortably sized house or flat. You have a full or part-time job that enables you to pay your rent or mortgage. You have been to school and maybe even college or university as well. You can read and write and count. You own a car or have a driver’s licence. You have enough money in your own bank account to feed and clothe yourself. You have access to the Internet. You can vote. You have a boyfriend or girlfriend of your choosing, who you can also marry if you want to, and raise a family with. You walk down the street wearing whatever you feel like wearing. You can go to bars and clubs and sleep with whomever you want.

Your world is full of freedom and possibility.

Then you…

View original 1,400 more words

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