another dream

Well it happened – every time I’m on Tylenol 3, I end up at some point dreaming about my family. It always involves my mom’s side of the family – until this time.

This time my dad and his mother were involved, as well as my brother and some friends.

It’s also been over a year at least since I dreamt a tornado dream. For me, tornados signify change in my life.

I was at a mall with sherpa and another friend G, who reminds me of my brother…the brother I wish I had. My biological brother was there, too. I can’t remember where my dad and my grandma went, or if they were at the mall at all. Grandma was being pushed by dad in a wheelchair. She was very old and frail and didn’t speak. Dad looked younger in the dream (to match the age he was when grandma was still alive in the wheelchair, I guess, which would have been 1985 [she died in 1987]).

I remember walking home to my dad’s house from the mall. This is the house he no longer lives in, which he sold to a young couple who had tragedy befall them not long after moving in, while they were putting a second story on the house. I’ve always held that my grandfather’s ghost wasn’t happy with them and so he punished them. Seriously, the man’s ghost gave me and my dad grief when we lived in that old house, too.

The nearest mall to my dad’s house would have been Livonia Mall (if it is still there). I was walking up the driveway from the neighbor’s yard, which I cut through on my way home. I was making my way up towards the wood deck balcony (which in real life was in the back yard, but in the dream it was attached to the front of the house), when I realised that sherpa and my dad and grandma were not far behind me.

The next thing I noticed in the dream at this point is that the house and yard were not facing the road, it was facing the forest. It was placed in reverse on the lot for the dream.
I liked that view much better, but it’s not what I grew up looking at, so it felt a bit weird even when in the dream.

The forest was a pleasant mix of yellows and browns, because it was Autumn. The sun was starting to go down, and I stared pleasantly out at the forest.

Sherpa came up behind me and stood next to me, staring out at the forest. My dad wheeled grandma up onto the balcony and was preparing to take her inside the house when suddenly everything went black, like someone turned off the lights, only we were outside, so it was the sun that went black. Then we heard a very loud vibrating voom-voom-voom-voom-voom noise as I made out a giant black mass swirling about in the forest just off to the right of the house. I panicked and yelled TORNADO! and we all scrambled to get dad and grandma through the front door
and into the house.

Inside the house, it looked like an empty apartment living room. There was barely any furniture. We all sat in the living room.
Daylight reappeared long enough for sherpa and I to peek outside the front door, before it all went black again, and sherpa and I scrambled to the center of the living room with my dad and grandma. I got down on my belly and reached for the TV, which was sitting on the carpet in a corner of the living room. I turned on the TV but as soon as I did so, we lost power. I reached for the telephone and phoned up my brother’s cell phone. The telephone I was using was analog, so it worked even with the power out. Dan answered his phone cautiously and I told him there was a tornado raging outside, and he’d better seek shelter immediately. He told me that he and G were at the indoor rock climbing place at the mall, and that they should be fine. He sounded wary for us, though.
Sherpa was by now looking for a safer place for us to huddle, while my dad stood tense in the middle of the living room, not letting go of grandma’s wheelchair, while grandma just sat there hunched over, a dementia patient with a frozen smile on her face. But her eyes – you could see she knew what was going on, and she was eyeballing me. Her eyes told me not to worry.

The noise of the tornado passed, and daylight emerged once again, although by now it was approaching dusk anyway.
I opened the front door, and sherpa came bounding out and ran into the woods to go exploring. I noticed that the valley forest was laid out a bit differently than when I was growing up – I could see that the development from homes on the other side had made its way into the forest – people had built official paths and bridges to walk over. I could see the people who had been caught in the storm coming up out of the forest. Some had tarps over their heads and some had black garbage bags, some had only their Autumn coats on. A couple walked past the house through our front yard (I always hated when people did that in real life, although they didn’t walk directly in front of the house, it was further down by the street, which admittedly had no sidewalk). The couple had been grocery shopping and had gotten caught in the storm while carrying their groceries home. All of the people I saw looked middle class and white – the sort of people you’d find in my dad’s neighborhood when I was growing up.

I went to the right side of the house and stepped down from the balcony. I followed the dirt path along the side of the house towards the back yard, and watched the forest as I often liked to do. Soon, either my brother or my friend G came up to me and asked if everyone was all right. I told him how the sky went black and that I saw the twister, and described the noise as a quick vibrating “voom voom vooom vooom” to him as he nodded.

We were walking back up towards the front porch to go in and see dad and
grandma as we talked. When we got to the front of the house, my brother was saying that it was time to go home, that mom would be worried. Dad was preparing to load us all up in his truck to take us home.


I’ve been saying for awhile that my friend sherpa’s coming six-month sabbatical to New Zealand will change her, and we’re all curious as to what changes she’ll return with.

Transposing my brother and my friend G in the dream is not unusual for me to parse, because as I said, my friend G reminds me of my brother in looks and actions, yet he is the Good Brother I wished I’d had, as opposed to the militant fundamentalist Christian redneck law-evading mother-swindling brother I have.

My father and my grandmother in the dream disturbs me. My dad is getting up in age. My grandma’s telling me that through the change (tornado), it will be okay, makes me think that my dad will fall sick again, or worse, and honestly, I’m still not any more prepared for it this time than I was last time.

The old house on the lot further instills fear in me, because it deals with the idea of estate tied to my father. It being turned around might mean trouble in handling the estate should something happen to my dad. In this case, the only thing I could see getting in the way is in fact my brother, who is convinced to this day that my father’s wife is out to take my dad’s money, his half of the property, and everything he owned before the marriage once he dies.

And the general idea that the forest has changed – well that has come to pass in reality already, that much I know. The area has been being built up for years, and now they’re building a five-lane highway right in front of that old house. The couple who own it now, on whom tragedy befell – they are either selling the property to developers or to my dad’s neighbor, last I heard. They hadn’t made up their minds yet. The tragedy that befell them was this: they’re a young couple with kids. The husband was playing on the large front lawn with his buddy and they were using potato guns. His friend fired at him close-range and he went blind. The ensuing years in dealing with being blind, and therefore not being the breadwinner in the family anymore, and resulting severe depression put the marriage in the shitter, and the wife left him.
I swear, I still see grandpa’s ghost on that property, telling them they deserved it for changing his old house. He was a mean, mean man, from what my dad tells me.

Anyway. Autumn is another worrying point. The forest told me it was Autumn.
In Michigan where I grew up, Autumn is when things die.

This is all so not good. I do not have any financial means to go home right
now. I can scramble to start saving, but is it already too late?

The last time I recorded a tornado dream, it involved my mom and I at her house. She refused to get out of the front yard in fetal position. She wouldn’t budge as I tried to take her back into the house. That dream was on January 9, 2003.

Four months later, on Mother’s Day weekend, her mother died.

not well

The bleeding subsided yesterday evening, and I knew that this could be a Bad Thing™ unless I did something about it.

See, when george stops, it means he has plans to start back up in a dreadful tizzy within the next 12 to 18 hours, leaving my mouth gaping and eyes wide from the pain and damage in my uterus, intestines and that entire region.

So I started marching throughout the house. I got silly and started goose-stepping. I also did slow stretches, and then I laid down with a heating pad.

This worked, and george reappeared, gushing forth, but no cramps. That’s fine though – at least he was flowing, rather than clotting in there. The clots cause the real damage, cuz they have to pass through the cervix, and that’s when you see me go pale from the pain.

I woke up this morning and felt fine, and once again, george had disappeared. I took a shower and laid back down on the bed afterwards to dry off. That’s when I started to feel uneasy.
It’s hard to describe really, but it’s an uneasy feeling in the stomach – like a very low grade nausea. And when george is around and I get that feeling, it means he’s unleashing his black magick.

I decided that I’d just pretend it wasn’t happening, and maybe I could do the mind-over-matter thing and by actually getting up off my ass and getting ready for work, I could stave it off.

I’ve done this before, and rarely does it work.

I got up, got dressed, and made myself a nice breakfast of scrambled eggs with spinach and sharp cheddar. I used rice milk to scramble the eggs with. I used gluten-free butter in the pan. I put some gluten-free waffles in the toaster oven, and I used gluten-free butter on the waffles, too. This is a normal breakfast for me. Nothing about that breakfast was forbidden.

I was sitting at the computer eating my breakfast and catching up on some friends’ journals, when suddenly the intestinal urgency and the nausea took over.
I staggered to the bathroom and spent the next 20 minutes sitting on the pot and leaning over into a bucket at the same time, and of course, had the wide-eyed gaping mouth silent scream from the pain which shook me to my core and gave me uncontrollable chills even while my body was feverish.

There was very little menstruation going on – it was mostly cramping, mixed with a constipated intestinal reaction. Basically, george had wrapped his claws around my bowels and was swinging from them like an angry ape.

When the intestinal spasms and front cramping finally subsided, I felt ready to pass out. I felt exceedingly tired. I felt very thirsty. I staggered out of the bathroom and tried to lay down on the bed, but that’s when the anal pain and intestinal cramping started again. Back to the bathroom for two more trips, and nothing was happening – just the spasming and shooting anal pain.

By now, I was too uncomfortable to lay down, to stand up, to sit down – to do anything. I just slowly paced the house – it’s all I could do.

Of course I called in sick to work. Ain’t no way I’m gonna go in after that, even if it was just a morning issue and even if I start to feel better in the next hour. No way – that episode is all it takes to completely wipe me out and leave me ashen-faced for the entire day.

So this is day three that I will be drugged and bedridden. My mom’s mom used to be bedridden for up to a week. It seems that as I get older, it’s stretching out towards the week for me, too. I really, really hope I can get surgery in January.

Right now, I have The Guilt.
I feel guilty because I can finally now sit down – I’ve been able to sit for the past 15 – 20 minutes with minimal anus discomfort, and I don’t have any front cramping. I feel that I should go into work now that it’s all over. But like I said, I’m also ready for a nap, and I have a headache now, and I honestly don’t know if george is done with me, yet. This bullshit when george leaves and then comes back and beats the hell out of me with a bat is what B likes to call george’s “Last Gasp” before he goes away again for another month.
But The Guilt is also what I go through every time this happens.

Blah. I’m gonna grab the heating pad for my BUTT this time, and go try to get comfy in bed again. The drugs I think will be more for dulling The Guilt in staying home from work, than for the pain.

12:29pm Edit: Just woke up after a 2.5 hour Tylenol 3-induced nap to discover two things. 1) george returned full on, so it’s a good thing I took the drugs, and 2) I have really bad munchies. I’m whimpering that I don’t have any cheddar popcorn in the house.

Speaking of corn… I accidentally reintroduced corn into my diet on Saturday, did I mention that? Can’t recall. Anyway, I was off corn for only six days total before accidental reintroduction. No immediate side effects so far.

I’ll be eating and going back to bed again.

What Tylenol 3 does to me

I went face down on the bed to take a Tylenol 3-induced nap and had the following dream:

I was in college at a night class with B and we were being shown an educational movie.
The teacher gave us a break at some point during the movie, and I drove my car over to the bathroom, which was at an elementary school around the corner from the college.

I went into the building and into the girls’ bathroom. The room was busy because other women from other night classes over at the college were on break, too, and they had to use the bathroom as well. But get this – the boys’ bathroom was at the end of the room IN the girls’ bathroom, so boys have to walk THROUGH the girls’ bathroom to get to their bathroom! Thusly, at night for college class breaks, MEN have to walk through the bathroom that grown women are using
I found a stall on the intersection corner of the bathroom, entered and closed the door.
I quickly realised that the stall doors were too high, and that unless I squatted above the toilet seat, anyone walking by on the outside might see my privy bits if they looked at the bottom of the stall doors!

I then realised that the stall door was broken – it wouldn’t stay closed, and there was a GAP, so people could see in if they wanted to. I peered out and saw men and women walking past the stall I was in, fearful that they would look in at me.

To make matters worse, the walls of the stalls in this bathroom did not go to the ceiling – they were only about five feet tall, so adults could easily peek over the tops of them if they wanted to.

As I sat there hovering above the toilet and still trying to keep myself covered in case someone opened the door or became a peeping tom, suddenly I heard a knock at the stall door, and a woman peeked in, asking, “Could you put this in there for me?”, and she thrust a new roll of toilet paper through the door. I told her to get out, I’m trying to pee, and grabbed hold of the door.
The woman was caucasian, and wearing some kind of peach and white maid uniform. She was part of the nightly cleaning crew.
She dropped the toilet paper roll as her wrist caught on the slamming door, and pulled her hand out before any real damage could be done (if any damage, since there was a gap in the damned door, anyway).

I began cursing and yelling that she could WAIT until I’m done peeing FIRST, and then take care of the toilet paper HERSELF. I could hear her elsewhere in the bathroom replying that she was just trying to save time.

I took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to focus so I could pee. I got a little out but I knew I had more, and it just wouldn’t come out because of the anxiety.

I flushed the toilet and exited the stall to find a four-foot tall elderly Chinese woman sweeping the bathroom floor. She looked up at me, then looked away quickly and kept about her business. The bathroom was emptying out now, save for one or two other women. I knew the other cleaning lady was around there somewhere.
I turned to face left and walked down the row of sinks towards the boys’ bathroom entrance. The woman I was searching for appeared either out of a janitorial closet or the boys’ room and headed straight towards me. I rushed up on her and began yelling at her again. She tried to rush past me with an agitated look, like I was keeping her from her work. I followed after her and told her that all she had to do was stock EMPTY stalls for two minutes until I was finished, instead of barging in like she did. When she tried to talk above me to tell me to get out of her way, I yelled even louder that it’s her own fault she chose such a degrading shitty paying job, and that if she didn’t like making minimum wage, she could go elsewhere, but so long as she’s on this job, she’d better EARN her goddamned money by actually working instead of pushing her duties off onto others.

The four-foot tall elderly Chinese woman stopped sweeping and looked at us. So did two other women; one who was washing her hands, and one who had just exited another bathroom stall. The woman I was yelling at suddenly became aware that she was no longer in control of the situation. She was being humiliated instead of taking pride in humiliating others by opening stall doors while women urinated.

I held my stern glare for a moment more in silence, and pulled my pointed index finger out of her face, and left the bathroom. I exited the elementary school and got back into my car from the small parking lot. I noticed at this point that the cleaning staff was going home for the night. I’d been in the bathroom for quite awhile and now I’d be late to class.

As I slowly drove through the narrow parking lot, a car pulled out of a side-garage like you see built into Victorian homes, only it was still the elementary school. I wondered if it was the maid I’d yelled at, and if she’d be angry and trying to follow me home.

I waited for traffic to pass on the nearby residential street, and then I turned left to head back to the college.

From the back seat (or was it the passenger seat?), B or someone started asking me, “Did you see her? Do you see her? Hey, did you see her?”

Looking in my side view mirror, I said, “No, she’s not behind me, don’t worry about it.” Two cars had pulled in front of her from an adjacent side-street as I drove down the road.
I neared the corner where I would turn right and enter the parking lot to the college, and I wondered if I should go back to the college and finish up class, or if I should just go home, because I was going to be quite late back to class anyway.

The dream ended and I woke up pretty much gasping for air, because the Tylenol 3 had depressed my respiratory system AND I was laying face down on a soft bed. I was out of breath for several minutes and had to sit up straight and take deliberate, slow breaths to get back to normal.

When I woke up, I had to pee very badly. This is always the case that when I dream of having to use the bathroom, it means that I have to use the bathroom in real life.

The part about me being in college is a result of me reading a book before my nap and thinking to myself, “I should really get my ass back into college.”

Me being so deathly afraid of others looking at me half naked is a normal extension of my insecurity issues.

The elderly Chinese woman who was sweeping…hmmm. I would say she could compare to my boss, but my boss is Japanese and not elderly. Although she does make a great habit of looking away and letting my co-worker destroy the damned place around her. Hmmm sweeping stuff under the rug…doesn’t see a problem, must not exist…
The boss wants compassion for her patients, but sings la la la while looking the other way as the co-worker degrades the patients or gets mean with them. The boss wants to treat each situation with honesty and give it your best as it comes up, while the co-worker tells me “No, uh-uh, I ain’t got time, that person called in too late, just say you forgot to order it and put the file away. And don’t bother telling [our boss], there ain’t nothin we can do. I don’t want to deal with talking to [the patient] again when we already know that the contacts won’t be here in that short of time. I don’t like her, anyway.”
(Then she turns around and, an hour later, takes a last minute order from an African-American woman who physically stopped into the office, when she thinks I’m not paying attention).

The yelling at the woman who humiliated me is of course a throwback to the scuffle I got into with my co-worker last week. While we were talking things out, I’d said that I don’t plan to be at this job past December. She’d mentioned that she didn’t think she’d stay in this job, either. It was only supposed to be temporary, and it turned into three years so far.

You don’t know how much her statement both terrified me and repulsed me.
Well, I guess now you do…through my dream. I want to tell my co-worker the things I yelled at the maid in the bathroom in my dream.

The fear of being followed for retaliatory violence is just my usual brain thinking, because I grew up in and around Detroit, where that sort of behaviour is commonplace, and is what I had happen to me at least twice in my life while living there, and what I’ve done to others, because as I said, that sort of thing is commonplace. It’s very immature and wrong, but I’ve also read stories that people do that sort of thing in the Bay Area, too.

*whew* I’m tired again after all that analysing.

george is here.

George showed up on Saturday while I was at work, but thankfully he didn’t kill me until late Saturday night.

It’s also good of george to do his thing to me on my two days off from work – I wish that since he likes to hurt me so much, that at least he’d do that on my days off work every month, instead of making me miss work like he normally does.

Today, I’ve been soaking through a pad every hour and a half. It’s my third day of george but my second day of really bleeding and cramping. I’ve been on Tylenol 3 continuously since yesterday morning.

I’m proud of myself for finding courage to step outside while drugged so high, since laundry had to be done, and the laundry room is located at the back of the house – outside entrance from the back yard.
I’m also proud of myself for actually finishing my laundry today. Though a few towels and bath rugs still need to be done, they’re not priority, as we have abundance of those items. It’s good to have backup bathroom rugs!

Ok, I’m falling asleep at the keyboard again…nap time.


I’ve been suffering hypoglycemic attacks, dermatitis and anal bleeding again, so I’ve decided to eliminate soy (as much as I can – since it’s like corn – it’s in everything). I am also eliminating corn again, too. These things will be eliminated for ten days, at which point I will reintroduce one at a time over a period of seven days apart.

I found out that the dermatitis is exacerbated by cleaning products – namely those bleach-added cleaning wipes that I’m so fond of. So now I use rubber gloves when using the wipes, and I’m nursing broken skin.

Job and money stress are NOT helping with the dietary restrictions.

I had a mocha and a scone for lunch (although aren’t you excited for me that I didn’t have a reaction to the scone?).

January 11, 2009 edit: I am still consuming soy and corn and I still have not been able to determine whether they really do cause me the problems listed above. The only soy I consume is via tamari when I go out for sushi, and soy lecithin where it may be contained in the ingredients of certain prepackaged foods I eat.

Wagon falling.

I fell off the wagon. Stress won out and I went back to eating sugar and drinking pop (high fructose corn syrup carbonated beverage, such as coca-cola) again.

The stressors that led me to crave forbidden foods:
Food allergies popping up after diet elimination experiments. A conflict with a friend. Long resolution process with friend. Getting a job. Preparing to move. Moving. Getting another job. Knowing I’d be fired from one of the jobs lest I quit first. Quitting a job. Adjusting to full time at the other job. No good food choices or advice. No refrigerator at work to house my special diet foods.

I know I’m leaving stuff out. Just can’t think of it at the moment.

So I started craving caffeine, sugar, coffee, cookies, Cheetos™, Chinese food, biscuits and gravy, and other stuff. And I acted on those cravings. And I paid the price with some of it immediately. Some of the other stuff took a few days or weeks to finally pound me in the face.

So as of yesterday, I’ve been near tears all day and all night. Severe depression has set in once more.
Before caving to cravings, I’d been SO excited to realise that my depressions had nearly perished. I attributed the depressions to being part of the allergic reaction my body has to certain foods.
I know sugar is a HUGE factor in my depressions.

But yet, stress won and I caved and I went back to eating the very foods that would cause me to become this unbelievably depressed.

I got home and drank some brandy and ate some Cheetos and sulked. Then I took a nap. Then I vented to my friends. Then I got off my ass and made some brown rice pasta with some pre-made spaghetti sauce in a jar. We’ll see how my body likes that.

I’ve started a document of foods that my body approves of. That will become my pantry, and I will expand upon that. And I will become vigilant again. And I will take up a friend’s offer to get cooking lessons from her. She has allergies much worse than mine. Her allergies and sensitivities include all of mine plus another long list. We jokingly name her diet the beef jerky and baby food diet, for example. But it’s not a very funny joke.

I also need to make the long put off Steph’s Recipes document, so I’m not stuck wondering what to eat for my next meal anymore.
And I need to learn the sacred art of Southern-minded cooking, which means “cooking for an army”. I need to channel Grandma, who had nine kids to cook for every day. I need to freeze up the extra and have a stockpile to choose from for meals to take to work.

So the fact that I’m off my ass and making plans means that I sunk to my lowest point in my depression this evening, and bounced. Yay bounce. Can’t wait til the depressive funk is OVER.

Now, what to do for tomorrow’s lunch. I think I may have to suffer for two more work days (Friday and Saturday), before I have the time and energy to go food shopping again. Oh, and there’s also that pesky little detail of getting PAID.

mid-cycle pain (mittleschmerz)

I started cramping on the right side today. George isn’t due until the 21st, which is two weeks away.

Is it simply ovulation? Is the cyst back again? Did I grow another one? I never got the other one treated, because it was 11mm and I was told my body would reabsorb it. I thought my body did just that.

The gynecologist called me back today, too. She let me know that it’s okay for me to reschedule surgery. Last week, the billing department at the GYN’s office called me to tell me that B’s insurance was giving them a hard time over processing my impending surgery. They said I have a six month waiting period, which expires in November. They said they were investigating to see if I had pre-existing conditions. So I cancelled surgery til January. The doctor told me that’s the best I can do right now, cuz if I were to go ahead and do surgery in September and the insurance decided not to cover it, it would be $20K out of pocket.


So, surgery waits. And I’m on 600mg Ibuprofen, waiting for the mid-cycle pain to go away.
I can do this. I’ve done this for twenty years already.

Diety weighty weight

Haven’t weighed myself since July 24th.

Weighed myself this morning – I am at 155 lbs (70kg), which is 3 pounds lighter in the last ten days. So I estimate a loss of about 1.5 lbs per week.

Go me!

Of course, at this point, I’m sick to death of food in general, given the reintroductions and the goddamned reactions, so it almost feels better to not eat at all, which is … well… basically what I’m doing. I rarely eat dinner these days. I eat chicken or soup for lunch, and breakfast is almost always 2 eggs and 2 gluten-free waffles.

What, you think I can AFFORD to make a special diet with the kind of job I hold right now?


For weight reference, I was 143 lbs (64kg) when I was dating my last boyfriend. From the year 2000 to 2002, I gained about 20 lbs, and from 2002 to 2006, I gained over 20 more – all with the current boyfriend. I’m trying to get back down to 143 lbs. Once I reach that, I’ll see how much further I can go. I was 125 lbs (56kg) in high school, but I’m probably past the point age-wise where it’s healthy for me to weigh in at 125 again.