I was stopped at a light before the last stretch of the parkway that goes by my street. I wasn't looking at the light, but at the sky above the lights. The clouds were getting darker, and they were expanding and moving in such a way as to suggest that they were actually boiling. I stared up at the clouds and knew that there were going to be tornadoes.
The light turned green, and I drove through it. The parkway on the other side was covered with fog — except that it was black, like the smoke you get from burning plastic. It hadn't completely settled, so there were pockets of air not blackened by the fog, and I used those to navigate. There was a couple stopped in the median in one of those pockets of clear air, trying to fix their car. I sideswiped the woman because I couldn't see anything on my right side and I had this feeling that there was something in the fog that I didn't want to touch. I didn't stop, and I saw the coke she'd been holding (in one of those cups with a plastic lid and a straw), bounce against my driver's side window.
I woke up and the storm had begun.
I am going to touch on a subject that I know will most likely empty the ranks of my readers, but I feel compelled to discuss it here. I think it was an entry of Jade's that sparked this thought.
To start off with, I'd like to state, very firmly, that I do not believe in precognition. (That would be the ability to see (know) the future). In fact, I don't believe in psychic phenomena of any kind (unless I am walking from my car to my house in the dark, and then I am willing to believe in damn near anything), and I do not have any faith in so-called psychics, palm-readers, and other spiritualists.
That being said, I must admit that I have dreams about the future, and that they come true.
It's something I noticed early on, when I was about eight. At the time, we were house hunting, and I had a dream. This boy who I'd absolutely adored named Steven and I were walking down the street, talking. He was apologizing to me for not keeping in touch, and asking if we could be friends again. I agreed. Steven had moved away when I was six, and I hadn't heard from him since.
The surprise came on my first day at our new house, when I looked across the street and who should I see? Steven, of course. Later that day, we had the exact conversation that we'd had in the dream.
Since that first time, it has occurred in varying forms. Often, it will be about something insignificant, like a math lecture that happens later in the week. I used to scare one of my junior high teachers by reciting her lectures along with her. When it's like that, everything down to the smallest detail fits the reality exactly.
Other times, when it is about something important, it will be symbolic, and I have to pick out which parts are meaningful and which parts aren't. I can tell when it's an Important dream, however, because I will wake up with a certain sick feeling in my stomach. Generally, it will be about someone coming back into my life (like Heather or ‘Bert), or someone leaving. It hasn't been wrong once.
For the most part, I ignore these dreams, simply because to do otherwise is counterproductive. I've found that I can't really do anything to change what happens in the dreams — despite my best efforts, it will occur exactly as I saw it. So I ignore it, and vaguely hope that it will go away. Or that I was imagining it to make myself more interesting. Something like that.
Okay, now that there's about five of you left reading, my week-end:
I saw the Austin Powers movie. Too campy for me, really. I don't like the Wayne guy (whatever that actor's name is), and I was horrified about the sex scene with the obese man. I'm never having sex again. I wanted to throw up in the theater (I think someone did). Yuck. It was very funny, though. Go see it, if you don't mind being nauseated.
We saw the movie with Deb and her boyfriend Joe. I might have mentioned the fact that Joe looks like someone dipped a koala in Nair. He makes about the same amount of noise, too. Of course, I don't really know what I'm talking about, as my experience with Koalas is limited to nature shows. For all I know, they let out piercing shrieks at three-minute intervals. Anyway, you get the point: he's quiet and horribly unattractive, and Deb's actually pretty. In a girl-next- door sort of way.
Not in a sultry sex-goddess way, like me.
We dropped off Katie's gift on Thursday. I was right, it was her birthday, and it was a complete surprise that I'd gotten her a gift, since she hadn't had the time to check my journal in the previous couple days.
My mind's playing tricks on me lately, however. I got her these tiny maracas, called "Chickitas" (I think). After I'd bought them and ripped off the tag, however, I was struck with a sudden vision of one of her aunts giving her the exact same thing, in the exact same color for Christmas. I gave it to her just the same, and she assured me that she'd never gotten them before. I think they irritated Chris....he said he was going to find something equally irritating and give it to Dirk for Christmas, as revenge.
I also bought her a book by Margaret Atwood, because I think she's one of the best writers of this century. It took me forever to remember her name, though. I was wandering around the store, muttering to myself "Atlee, Lee....I'm sure it started with an ‘A'."
We had practice on Saturday, of course. I had to have a little talk with Dirk about his slightly superior attitude towards the other band members (including everyone but Aaron). He didn't take it well until I bluntly informed him that if he kept it up, he was going to lose Doshu and Greg. I've been appointed High Caretaker of People's Feelings, I guess.
I don't know if I mentioned getting a steam-burn on my finger(s) a couple weeks ago. It only hit my right index finger badly, and it's peeling now. I'd been worried that I damaged the nerves, because the burned area was so very numb, but the new skin emerging from the old isn't the least bit numb.
Dirk's mother is a bitch. Aaron, Dirk and I were standing around the kitchen before practice, while his mother was idly leafing through a catalogue. With me standing right there, she turned to Aaron and said, "I'm going to Krisco's graduation. Do you want to come, Aaron?" Aaron, who has been a sort of friend of mine for a while, said, "Hell, no."
He then went on to state that she (meaning Krisco) is white trash, and he questioned why his mother would go to "that psychopath's" graduation. His mother got all huffy and said, "You know how I feel about that." (Yes. We know you're still pining for her, because you thought she'd be the perfect submissive daughter-in-law. Shit tends to find its own level.) She mentioned the fact that Krisco will be going to the Annandale campus in the fall. I'd been silent up to this point, and I said, "Well, thank god she's going to be at a different campus, at least."
I didn't care if Dirk's mother was offended. I rather hoped she was.
I should see what the Annandale campus has to offer. I could be missing out here. Krisco wants to be a nurse. Considering the fact that she bathes twice a week, I really think that she'll cause a lot of deaths. Aren't nurses supposed to have good hygiene?
I want ice cream.
