Coveting Another's...

In the last few months I have discovered what covet truly means. As a good and faithful Sunday School attendee all my childhood and youth I knew it was one of the top ten. I found it a bit silly; no one could want what someone else has so badly the want will send them to Hell.

I grew up.

I have worked in a profession that is also my passion for 23 years.

Then my friend Dave quit his job and retreated to a cabin in the Rocky Mountains to edit the novel he had written on a previous sabbatical.

I covet his experience.

The introvert me covets the isolation.

The exhausted me covets the time.

The stressed-out me covets the escape.

Every time I encounter an unexpected situation; every time the stress begins to build, my mind asks, “where’s my cabin?” Coyotes, bears, and hailstorms be damned - they’re easier to deal with than people. I ponder the question, “what would happen if I loaded the car and left?”

The answer is immediate: the student loan people will still track me down.

The fantasy ends that quickly, but the coveting does not. I have been working in my house lately to build my own cabin. The garage (too small for a car, I don’t know what the builders were thinking) is becoming a workshop for handiwork crafts. My office finally has enough shelving that I do not have piles of books covering most of the floor, and as soon as I refinish the old wooden desk I have, I will have my personal reading and writing space. I do what I can with what I have.

None of this is far removed from society - I still hear the planes arriving and departing. There are no wild creatures - there are roommates. It is not the high altitudes of Colorado, but when my mind asks for a cabin, I’ll have an answer and maybe the coveting will move to wanting. I’ll plan a vacation accordingly.

I Had a Dream

I had a dream a few nights ago unlike any I have had before – at least that I remember. I keep going back to it trying to come up with some analysis of it or meaning to it, but end up just giggling insanely.

In the dream, a friend (from church) and I were attending an orgy. All around us nakedness and enthusiastic activity ensued. We were together in the middle of it all.

He reclined on a couch.

I sat on the floor leaning against the couch.

We were watching British comedies.

Yes , surrounded by an orgy, we were watching television. Surely it means something, but I cannot get past the giggling.

I am not sure if I keep giggling at the comedies we were watching, the absurdity of the situation, or just all the naked bodies I see in those recalled images.

Honestly – outside the passion of the moment – naked bodies are generally pretty funny.

I told my friend about the dream. He was not at all surprised saying he could see the two of us watching British comedies. I do not know if that meant naked (he is fairly European in attitude) or not, but he was very matter-of-fact about it all.

He has not yet caught the full visual of my dream. He would just be giggling too.

Sleep NO!

When I started taking the new medications last week, in addition to all the ranging side effects I laughed about, I knew there was also the possibility of very vivid dreams. Several people told me just how strong the dreams could be.

Since I rarely dream – or recall my dreams rather – I looked forward to this new experience in my life.

I did not expect that experience to turn into, “Hell no! I’m not going to sleep!” or more accurately, “I’m not going to lay down.”

So far I do not recall any vivid dreams, but the images that pass through my mind as soon as I lie down and begin to drift off are nothing short of horrifying. They are all violent images of death and torture of only the kind Jack Bauer could survive. I simply do not want to close my eyes.

Given the choice, I do not watch those kinds of movies and do not even pay close attention to the trailers in movies or on television; it simply does not interest me in the least. In the case of 24, I simply am unable to suspend my disbelief long enough for the story, no matter how compelling, to come alive for me.

Call me unpatriotic – I still do not like the show.

Let me be clear – in the pre-sleep visions, I am neither the protagonist nor the victim. I am a completely removed person as though watching a movie or television show. The option to intervene or somehow change the course of action is out of my control. My option to change the channel, so far, is also out of my control.

I need to find the right reading material to change my frame of reference before going to bed. I usually watch The Simpsons, but clearly Homer and crew are not doing it for me.

I say all this and find myself up at 3:30 a.m. listening to one of my all-time favorite classical works – “Danse Macabre” by Saint-Saens.

Go figure.