Hoooo-ah. Total Zhuangzi moment.
Oct. 10th, 2002 10:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
camwynI've just been shopping at some little bitty strip mall - you know, four or five stores - and so I drive for about twenty minutes and pull into my own driveway. As I come into the house I realise I'm hungry, so I put up a pot of water - which boils very quickly - and throw in some pasta. I reach for what I think is the salt and discover I grabbed the wrong jar, but shake in some dried beans anyway as I like cannellini in my pasta. Mom calls to me and my sister and starts pointing at stuff in the kitchen, saying it's all going to be replaced this weekend as they remodel.
Something bubbles through my brain: Wait a minute. Aren't I in Brampton? If it takes twenty minutes to get from Brampton, Canada to my part of New Jersey via the backroads, why the hell did I take the train for twelve hours yesterday?
Most of the next bit of conversation goes unnoticed. I'm torn between stirring the pasta to encourage the beans to cook faster, and wondering whether I'm in Brampton dreaming I'm in the States, or whether I had just dreamed that I was in Canada and am, in fact, back home in New Jersey.
To the best of my knowledge I'm awake now. I'm no Zhuangzi, I'm no meditator who has her mind totally under control, but my dreams have yet to include an incident where I rub eyeball boogers and sand away while trying to walk a straight line. They're just not detailed enough to include a truly distressed sense of balance, even when they're dreams of chaos.
nuh. Well, this morning I have to wash, phone the bank and tell them I'm in Canada could I please have my card marked as, you know, NOT STOLEN (I forgot to do this before I left), then go out and find something funky to do in Toronto for the moment. And rejoice in the fact that I am not a butterfly dreaming I am a man*.
*Funnily enough, although my dreams have roamed all over the spectrum in terms of weird, they have never successfully gotten me into the body of another species, and I cannot recall them ever getting me into the body of the opposite sex save as an entirely different character from myself. Oh well.
Something bubbles through my brain: Wait a minute. Aren't I in Brampton? If it takes twenty minutes to get from Brampton, Canada to my part of New Jersey via the backroads, why the hell did I take the train for twelve hours yesterday?
Most of the next bit of conversation goes unnoticed. I'm torn between stirring the pasta to encourage the beans to cook faster, and wondering whether I'm in Brampton dreaming I'm in the States, or whether I had just dreamed that I was in Canada and am, in fact, back home in New Jersey.
To the best of my knowledge I'm awake now. I'm no Zhuangzi, I'm no meditator who has her mind totally under control, but my dreams have yet to include an incident where I rub eyeball boogers and sand away while trying to walk a straight line. They're just not detailed enough to include a truly distressed sense of balance, even when they're dreams of chaos.
nuh. Well, this morning I have to wash, phone the bank and tell them I'm in Canada could I please have my card marked as, you know, NOT STOLEN (I forgot to do this before I left), then go out and find something funky to do in Toronto for the moment. And rejoice in the fact that I am not a butterfly dreaming I am a man*.
*Funnily enough, although my dreams have roamed all over the spectrum in terms of weird, they have never successfully gotten me into the body of another species, and I cannot recall them ever getting me into the body of the opposite sex save as an entirely different character from myself. Oh well.
