Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Really Reality

I might be allergic to reality. It makes me sneeze, and I can't seem to figure out how to deal with it half the time so I just act wild and crazy and it makes me feel better. Nothing wrong with a little antireality, is there?
At least, not as long as I get to pick what the antireality I live in is like. =)

I have strange dreams at night, the kind that you'd think would result in a lack of sleep. I have to tell you about the latest one:
I'm house-sitting the inheritence of one of Mom's friends. The house (mansion, really) is in Italy. There are orphans living in the patio in the backyard, so I tell them they can live in the attic since it's not connected with the elevator. (That seems a really random sentance, but it'll make sense later.) There's three floors to this house not counting the basement and the attic, so there's plenty of space to go
Mom's friend's name is Jenny, and we haven't heard from her in awhile so we're getting a little worried. Did I mention this takes place sometime during World War II? That might be part of the reason we're worried. Or it might be the strange lady that knocked on the door.
She insists there's an evil plot to destroy me lurking in the house, and that she'll bring her friends over and tell me more. Meanwhile I help the orphans into the attic. When I get downstairs I notice a package by the door, addressed to my Mom and signed "Jen." It looks like they're boxes of jam, plus a large stack of American bills (fives, twenties, and hundreds) and three 8,000 lira notes. The lady walks through the door with her friends showing off a special badge, notices the packages, and panics. She asks me if "they were on the whole time." I told her I just noticed the packages, and haven't touched them yet (although I had pocketed the money, it might be useful later). She says we have to get out now so the orphans and I head
out with her friends in the lead, and her taking up the rear.
Suddenly I hear a noise, and manage to spin around in time to notice that the outdoor shelf sitting next to the entryway has shifted, just slightly. The lady heard the noise, too, but didn't notice the shelf. It moves again, closer. I don't panic, but I am afraid. I've seen this before, and I know the shelf will kill her if she doesn't climb
out of it's reach. "Run! It's beginning again!" I yelled to her before turning back to the children. "Climb!" I tell the orphans, pointing to a trellis-like shelf along the side of the building. (It's buried in the ground, with concrete, so I know it won't become a threat. Only loose furniature comes alive.) "Hurry!"
We start to climb the trellis as the shelf gains momentum. We hope we can get to the roof before it reaches the trellis, or we will all die.

Scary dream, huh? Didn't scare me, though. Maybe I'm scarier. Or maybe I just watch too much Doctor Who. =)

Life's more fun when sanity is merely an option, instead of a requirement. You get to do the impossible, merely because you claim it isn't. You get to have fun at were, just because you say you should. You get to bounce of the walls and call it normal.
And there's never a dull moment.

Life's more fun when you're not tagged sane. =)



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