Bad Dream

I want to jot this down, because I don’t want to forget. I mean, I do want to forget, but I don’t, not really.

About a week ago, I had one of the worst dreams I’ve ever had. In my dream, someone I respect very much, someone who I consider a friend, but also someone who has kind of “dropped” me (in terms of contacting) confronted me about, well, everything. Every awful detail of every terrible personality trait I possess. Every little bit of pettiness. Every time I’ve gossiped. Every moment I’ve been selfish, or mean, or even just inconsiderate– she laid it all out there for me, in a way that was both truthful and hurtful.

I woke up and nearly cried. The shaming was intense– possibly the most intensely disturbing non-violent dream I have ever had. I felt so awful– and I had a show to do that day. A show where my own self-confidence was the key to my success. It took a lot to get out of bed, brush the sleep out of my teeth, and get going that morning, I can tell you.

I don’t know if other people have that kind of navel-gazing more often or less often than I do. I don’t think I usually think about or ponder these things, and if I do, I certainly don’t give myself over to the level of shame I felt that morning. The main reason for not doing so is that, ultimately, if I cannot actively seek forgiveness for wrongs I’ve done, if the slights are small enough that an apology 5 years later is really unnecessary, then what’s the point?

Apparently, though, some part of my sleeping mind disagrees (or just wanted to make me feel bad that day). I suppose this is my platform for apologizing. If my inherently self-centered nature has offended or hurt anyone, I apologize for it. It’s truly not intentional– I’m just kind of made this way, and I go through life tromping around and trying to be fun and have fun, but sometimes…. well, often, that collides with and tromples on other people’s toes and feelings.

Oh, and for a trip report, I will give you these highlights:

• The Brits do not sleep between the hours of 2 AM and 7 AM. Instead, they stand out on the street and yell at each other.
• Violence and crazy follows me around, internationally.
• The English are a crime against food. The way to lose weight is to stare at an English breakfast, served in buffet style under heating lamps, for about 20 minutes. After which, there is no way you will ever want to eat again (it’s been a week and I still don’t want to eat anything). Heaven help you if you actually put any of it in your mouth. Tip: food with French names, like “croissant” and “latte” are generally safe.
• Lack of sleep and exposure to thousands of people is a good way to find yourself sleeping and/or feverish on the only two days you gave yourself for sightseeing.
• If being feverish doesn’t ruin all chances of sightseeing, having your camera break when you have about 36 hours left in London certainly will put a damper on things.
• Therefore, it is perfectly acceptable to buy extra “souvenir” yarn to make up for the broken camera.
• Canada is lovely and the only thing it needs is a non-roaming cell phone network that I can use.