FROM HAPPY TO PISSED AND SORROWFUL

          Do you dream? Do you remember your dreams when you wake up? I’m asking because I do dream and I don’t always remember the dream. I had one Thursday morning and I’m not sure what it was really about because I can’t remember much. I do know that I woke up laughing. I got up to go to the bathroom and sitting on the toilet, I laughed and laughed and laughed. It was the kind of laughter that would have had other people joining me if I hadn’t been alone. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to stop, but I eventually did. Back in bed, I went back to sleep, still giggling a bit and surely smiling.

          When I woke up again a couple of hours later, I could remember laughing so hard and practically being unable to stop, but I couldn’t remember much about what was happening in my dream. I know it had something to do with horses (probably because I’m watching “Heartland”), that the horse was pulling a wagon or sleigh, and there was mud or dirt. The conveyance stopped dead and the horses continued on. I wish I knew something else about the dream so I’d know why it I thought it was so funny that it made me laugh so hard for so long. I do know I woke up happy.

          I have a friend who almost always remembers her dreams in vivid detail, can identify the people who inhabit her dream, and sometimes has an orgasm depending on what she’s dreaming at the time. She doesn’t tell me much about those dreams…guess they’re private.

          For me, I hardly ever remember the dream or who was in it with me. I know I’ve had sexual dreams, but no orgasms that I can remember. Some people think you should keep a pad and pencil nearby so you can record your dreams as soon as you wake. That would work well if I could remember the dream when I wake up. It’s very unusual, in fact, I think this morning has been the only time in my life I’ve woke up laughing and kept laughing for a time. It was fun and I loved laughing like that and wished there were folks that could have joined me because it was the kind of laughter where you stop, look at someone and break down laughing again.

          And, who knows, but perhaps it was my body’s or brain’s way of relieving some of the angst I’ve felt the last few days. My reasons for the angst are in relation to my ability to complete my hour’s walk each morning. My need for a bathroom has cut my walk in half every morning this week. Plus, I have a sore spot on the bottom of my right foot. I have a tele-appointment with my doctor today, so perhaps she can provide some insight to my problems.

          It’s really really annoying to do everything right and proper for all the appropriate reasons and have my body sabotage my efforts. I mean, seriously, does it want to just sit and vegetate on the couch and have the grim reaper come calling a lot sooner than wanted? If that’s not the case, then why is my body not cooperating in my efforts to stay active and healthy? Perhaps the laughter from my unremembered dream this morning is my body’s way of saying sorry and releasing some of those happy endorphins I hear about? I loved the laughter and it made me feel wonderful, but an hour’s walk without having to cut it short or having my foot hurt with every other step would also make me feel good. Why can’t I have both???

          Then, my happy really took a beating. I was going through the last cigar boxes of John’s stamp stuff and found two things that were very upsetting. First, I found letters from some woman named Karen. She lived in California and their relationship began in 1973 or thereabouts when John was down there visiting people who I thought were friends to us both. Apparently not. Apparently they were only John’s friends because they assisted with the communications between John and Karen. Then, judging by the postmarks, this Karen and her family moved to Tennessee and the letters and phone calls continued. This was through the early 1990s. I had found other email communiques when I cleaned out the file cabinets, but nothing quite as blatant as this.

          The other surprise, except it wasn’t a total surprise were purchase orders from a Seattle firm for more than $20,000 in gold. Now, I knew John believed gold was a good investment and at some point, he finally told me about it and showed me what he had on hand. The surprise was that he began purchasing gold back in the mid- to late 1990s. And, just so no one thinks I have a pot of gold here, John apparently cashed it all in before he died because there hasn’t been a single piece of gold to be found anywhere in this house…I’ve looked and looked.

          Finally, I hope you have happy dreams and remember them. I hope your body cooperates with whatever you wish it to do. And, lastly, my advice to anyone reading this is to be upfront and communicate well about EVERYTHING before it’s too late. And, if you are having an affair and exchanging emails and/or snail mail, may I suggest you very carefully destroy it so the living partner doesn’t find out what an absolute fucker you were during the marriage.