Following advice.

June 15, 2017

I work Mondays, but my psychiatrist said I should structure the other days with routine chores, such as a period spent writing.  This is my attempt at adhering to his advice.  I do try to follow medical advice.  Life is complicated enough without trying to decide which advice to follow.

Last night I dreamt I was to edit a single-space typed manuscript about 200 pages long.  Tears brimming, I berated the faceless wretch who expected me to wade through it.  Then I decided to at least read some of this impossibly long piece.  Perhaps the work had great literary value, so I tried.  It didn’t.

You know how it is when you read something in a dream?  The words keep shifting around?  I was able to read the word “very” that came up about every sentence.  I got a black pen, finally, and drew lines through about six of the verys, then wrote “damned” in their places.  I was certain the word “damned” would be a more fitting word.  I explained myself to the author.

After that I dreamt I was in a big communal shower with “Samantha” from “Foyles War.”  Somehow I ended up editing the verys again, changing them all to damneds.  I woke and limped out to the kitchen where I poured myself a dish of cereal.  I had “Honey Bunches of Oats with Almonds.”  A favorite.

The reason I limped.  Arduous four-mile hike with P. yesterday.

The only thing worse than telling about dreams is listening to someone else tell about them.  An exception, of course, is Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland” and “Through the Looking Glass.”

Today P. wants me to prepare a pot of my cabbage with sausage.  I’m thinking I’ll take off soon to the store to get the cabbage.  I am a willing cook and fond of cabbage.