Cabin in the Woods Dream

For the record, I started a post the other day, but forgot to finish it. So I haven't entirely forgotten to post here, just haven't had much closure.

Last night I had another of my typical "Kim Dreams" ~ no obvious meaning, just bizarre.

I dreamed we had bought a cabin in the woods. It was a two-story cabin with a walk-out back (basement) towards the road and woods, and the upstairs where the dining room was had big windows looking out towards the front where there was, perhaps, a big field or lake (I think it was a lake)... There was a HUGE snowstorm/blizzard with high winds and astounding drifts. My friend Peggy (hi Peggy!) had said she was moving back to the Pacific Northwest (in my dream) because she missed snow, and I stared out the window towards where the lake would have been, only it was so snowy blowy hazy that you couldn't see the lake. It was more like an alien landscape of deep purple hazy sky filled with driving snow and Seuss-like snow drifts and thought, "Peggy should come to Michigan!" ... it was such a wild and unusual scene, and I remember thinking I had never seen anything like it in all my years in Michigan.

M children ran out to play in the snowy woods as the storm ended, but the drifts were so high and strangely sculpted that I was concerned there would be an avalanche. Buzz was climbing up the back of a steep cliff between huge trees, and sliding down the drift on the other side, and it seemed so unsafe. So I corralled the children inside, and we said goodbye to my sister and her husband who had been, apparently, visiting. They still had his Big Tall Truck, so they could drive out of the snowy wilderness.

I had planned to go out shopping, because I'd used up all the sugar in the cabin (we had just bought it and everything in it was from the previous owners) but remembered the local store closed at 8 pm. The Grand Lunar was outside waving good bye to my sister and her husband when an SUV drove up. He stepped back near the cabin, while I was inside, and we both watched to see who it was and why they were there.

It turned out to be relatives of the former owners who had planned to stay the night, not knowing it was sold. They had come a long way and simply came in, there was no turning them away. The woman had with her about twelve children, none of whom were her own children, they belonged to other relatives. They were all between 6 and 15 or so, and didn't seem to care at all that the cabin was sold, and just made themselves at home, demanding ice cream. The boys in the bunch were immensely demanding and rude, and I told them so. One boy, who looked to be about 12, rejected his bowl of ice cream as too small, and then was amazed and upset when I didn't give him more, just gave his bowl to someone else.

The lady with them seemed polite and somewhat apologetic, as if maybe she hadn't realized until that day that the children were poorly behaved. She tried to help by setting the table with these fancy dark dark brown table settings from a dark dark brown hutch. Full table settings, like you see in decorating magazines, with the several plates, too much silverware, too many glasses, etc ... The style of the fancy place settings was not me at all, and it was making it hard to finish the children's ice cream because the new fancy place settings were just in the way. But the girls in the bunch ended up being polite and helpful and washing dishes for us, so that there were enough spoons for everyone (except the particularly rude boy!) to have ice cream.

And then ... somewhere after the ice cream, I woke up.

a very "me" nightmare

I had a dream I was hosting a homeschooling mom's meeting.
At my house. Which, in my dream, was actually my parents' house.
It was time for the meeting and I hadn't prepared the food.
It was a potluck, but I had bought a roast and hadn't even started cooking it.
And everyone who brought food brought it uncooked / unprepared.
So I was trying to cook and prep all the food really fast, but was late to start the meeting I was supposed to host/run
And was really stressed about it.
The dream ended while everyone was still waiting and I was still running around desperately trying to get the food ready.

It's been awhile since I've blogged a dream ...

I should keep a little side bar list of things I mean to blog, though - like our nature hike the other day, and the enchilada recipe, and the BOX I got, because otherwise I'll forget.

But, while the gooey lemon buttercake is in the oven, I'll quick blog one of last night's dream.

Pre-dream (in reality): the last few days, as I've put lotion on my face, I've noticed the skin along my jawline is not very soft and smooth. It's not dry and flaky rough, nor is it acne rough ... it's just sort of rough. And so, although I am not one to pursue a dermatologist for smooth, flawless skin, I did muse over it with a "huh." sort of reaction.

So on to the dream. In my dream I was looking in the mirror and realized not only was my skin a little rough along the jawline and under the jawline, it was also a little darker. I leaned closer to the mirror and tilted my head back to look and realized there were actual hairs there.

Dark hairs.

Many many dark hairs.

About 1" long.

I had, in fact, a full beard growing under my jawline.

And for quite some time, apparently.

I was shocked, appalled, and mortified. Why hadn't anyone told me?

And what should I do, now? Trying to hurry to get ready for church! With a full beard under my jawline! There was no way I could pluck them all. I hurriedly decided I'd have to shave...

... and then find the electrolysis doctor who attended our church. (What a relief that we had one! Doesn't every church??)

I did find the doctor.

He said certainly he could help me, and clearly it was due to a hormonal imbalance. In fact, he was sure I had a hormonal imbalance because we have so many children. Most women my age, he explained, have only one or two, maybe three at most. So he could give me something that would take care of both hormonal issues.

I spluttered that having many children was not at all a hormonal imbalance, and that most women in our culture artificially limit their fertility, choosing only to have one or two or three. I tried to explain that children are blessings and we simply choose to not limit or avoid having them. But he was unchanged in his opinions.

And thus the dream ended, flustered and still with a beard.

What? What? Why am I here?

I was walking determinedly to my computer to post an entry.

When I got here, I realized I had a half-written comment on another blog. So I finished that, first.

Then I hurried over here. And had completely forgotten what I was going to say.

Thinking ...

Thinking ....

Staring blankly in lieu of thinking ...

Aha! Two things.

Yesterday I went to make some decaf coffee to warm my bones on that cold day ... when I looked in the big Folgers Green Plastic Can (because it's only the best for me and my guests, fancy fancy Folgers, eh?) it was empty. I gave it to my not-quite-2 year old as a drum, but he was markedly unimpressed. I knew I had a brand-new can (an actual metal can!) of store-brand decaf (even fancier!) but didn't want to go to the trouble of using the can opener. You see how rough my life is. So I rooted around in the freezer for old containers of coffee. I have these little tidy nesting square containers that fit so well in the freezer, and they stack and line up and make my freezer look like it belongs to an organized person, you see. I get a lot of joy out of telling myself that my freezer door looks organized, hoping maybe I'll fool someone into thinking I am organized, apparently.

Anyway, so I used to have two tidy little freezer boxes, one labeled 'decaf' and one labeled 'regular'. (Oh, and Kelly, I AM going to follow your advice and get rid of all the regular in the house, this time around. If I can remember, I'll give it to you guys next weekend! Remind me if I forget! (Did I ever get you that coffee pot lid thingie?))

Ahem, I seem to be a little off track.

So yesterday I pulled out the two boxes labeled 'regular' and 'decaf' ... and discovered they were labeled 'regular' and 'unsweetened cocoa powder'.

They were obviously both coffee. While my original containers were labeled top and side, the 'cocoa' one had no side-label to verify it's contents. But I figured it must be decaf. After all, why would I have two different containers of regular?

So I made my coffee with the easier-to-access 'cocoa' decaf. Which apparently was actually some fancy-pantsy pricey coffee, which I buy from rare time to time in the little foiled bags, and transfer to the safety of my freezer boxes, to preserve it's fancy flavor. Which, I must admit, I'm rather lame at observing. I have to say, cheapie store brand is good enough for me. I'll save the fancy 'good' coffee for people smart enough to tell it's good.

Aaaannnnnyway. I'm pretty sure, in retrospect, that it wasn't decaf. I wasn't bouncing off the walls, I wasn't jogging around the house or chattering non-stop any more than I usually do. But, still. I think it was regular. We'll see if I get a headache from a one day accidental ingestion.

The moral of the story: If you really mean business going caffeine free, don't re-use old lids and assume you'll remember anything about what was in them. And if you find an old re-used container clearly mis-marked, assume it is caffeinated. Better safe with the can opener than going through withdrawal again, right?

Oh, those make pretty bad morals. They're really not moral at all. How about saying The Lame Wrap Up for the Story ... yeah, that's more accurate.

ANYway. Oh, the other thing. I had a dream.

In my dream, I came into a living room that was apparently mine. And apparently we live in the location where my parents' house is. Not in their house, being a dream, this was some other made up house. But across from the same field and all.

And in my dream, my oldest daughter, Iliacat, was talking with James Dobson. Right there in the family room of my made up house.

And Dr. Dobson, when I came in, chided me, telling me that Iliacat had been telling him I wouldn't let them go outside, alone, to play. The chiding was implied, and subtle, but very apparent. Overprotective and too conservative, he thought I was. The worst of it was that I knew I wasn't, in this case. I do let them go outside to play, without me! Really I do. So I began defensively fumbling, explaining that the oldest 2 are allowed to play outside, front and back, quite often, and even allowed to roam the field across from our house. The middles are allowed out back where I can see them, and even the youngest two, under certain circumstances and with an older one watching them, in the fenced back yard. But Dr. Dobson clearly believed Iliacat over me.

Weird, eh?