Starting this day with a silly anecdote and again sharing my Eddie Van Halen Funko.
Last night, Lynne and I were texting about various things that included characters I write or have written or plan to write. Eddie Van Halen was mentioned in passing. We said goodnight, and afterward, I did a few more things on my phone before I closed all the apps and placed it face down on the table next to the bed.
If you know me at all, you know two things. One: With very few exceptions, I don’t like to talk on the phone. If you and I have spoken by phone, it means I’ve overcome my aversion for the sake of friendship and I’ve likely enjoyed those calls because of the friendship. But business calls, calls with other people who don’t like to talk on the phone, calls where it’s hard to hear the other person, GROUP calls on speakerphone–these are not my favorite things.
Two: I fully understand and often say that no one’s dreams are as interesting to anyone as they are to the dreamer. Sorry/not sorry: It’s just true. I think therapists who ask to hear their patients’ dreams are secretly making mental shopping lists, trying to remember lyrics to songs, or doing any other brain exercise while their patients ramble on. They interject an occasional, “What do you think that means?” or “Do you connect this stranger in the dream to someone in your life?” And while the patient then rambles some more, the therapist is thinking, “That Eagles album uses one of the most extended metaphors in modern music…”
This is your chance to stop reading.
I was sleeping soundly this morning around 6:30 and having a dream in which I was in some rural town with my grandnieces and grandnephews. I will spare you the details of which ones and all the things we were doing and discussing. But we decided to go for a walk through the countryside, talking and laughing along the way. We heard the loud noise of a motorcycle coming toward us from a trail/dirt drive, and the rider came into view. He did a few spins, smiled and nodded our way, then turned back the way he’d come. The kids didn’t react much, and I said, “Do you not know who that was?” They shook their heads, and I said, “That was Eddie Van Halen.”
At that point, I could hear someone talking next to me, and I woke up. The voice was coming from my lit up phone, so I picked it up while putting on my glasses. Lynne’s contact picture was on the screen, and the call voice was saying, “Press one to [do something], or press [some other number] to leave a message.” I was confused and I think I pressed one, and the call stopped, and I put the phone down, extremely disoriented. A minute or so later, the phone rang, I answered, and Lynne said, “What?” I explained that my phone, not I, had for some reason decided to call her, so we hung up because FFS, it was 6:30 AM! Right after that, first my phone, then Tom’s, BLARED alerts that the boil water advisory for the city of Houston had been lifted and all water has been found safe.
I then told Tom about my phone deciding to call Lynne for no apparent reason, even though all apps were closed, and the text exchange with her wasn’t the final thing I did on the phone last night. He said, “It’s almost like you told Siri to call Lynne.”
Is it possible that I said, “That was Eddie Van Halen” out loud in my sleep, and does that sound like “Siri, call Lynne?” Especially since I never speak to Siri or give her directions at all.
All I know is, I was up way too early, but I took my meds, mopped the library floor, and filled the dogs’ outside water buckets with safe water that we’d boiled yesterday.
If you stuck with me to the end of this, I’ll remind you that today is Giving Tuesday. If you’re unable to donate to any of the great organizations who help people, animals, and the planet, maybe just start giving your change back to businesses that collect for charity, like McDonald’s does for Ronald McDonald House.
And give a kind thought to anyone–friend, family, dead musician–who can make you smile in a dream–but don’t feel compelled to call me to tell me about it. SORRY, LYNNE! 😄
