Dreams that surface from Shallow sleep*

I think it must be from the stress of planning a move and going back to school, but I've had the most random dreams and thoughts that surface:

-the other night, I was dreaming that I was getting married again, but had to drive a big ass bus in order to get to my parents house. once there, they had redone their home with nice new windows and central ac/heat (anyone who knows my parents knows very well that this is a dream...the rock radiators and window units).


-I've had random ass dreams about people from high school. like I'm going to lunch with them and having grown-up conversations about life, kids, work, but its weird because its people I've not talked to in like years. at least a decade.

These are just two examples, I try to forget most of them because they are just so damn peculiar. I can't fight the fact that I don't get nearly as much sleep as I should. Not good deep sleep because a babe is still sleeping in the bed with us (we dig the family bed). Babe now turns herself completely around while sleeping which means we have to move around her so that no one falls off. I've also taken to reading before bed again which used to be a really good habit, but now the books I've chosen (just started Zadie Smith's On Beauty and am also reading about snake's in church services in the south...can't think of the title) but anyways... the reading, the watching of late night TV (yikers, I watch Tyra), and reading Babe her books (Mama, Mama, Papa Papa and Olivia) AND the fact that I've been listening to way too much Johnny Cash and Elvis hymns I'm sure is why I've been having such weird dreams.

I hope.

Truth is, I really need to find another outlet for stress and thinking because I'm so bottled up right now, so worried about the move, and how it'll affect Babe and H, and myself and our future and everything that I don't know what to do. I've not been able to write in my journal (paper version) because its just not helping me. Truth be told I've not kept a paper journal now for at least a year. Its not the same. Or maybe I'm not the same, my expectations for writing have changed. It used to be, that I thought I could write myself into feeling calmer and better. If I could just get the shit out of my head and onto the paper I'd be able to figure things out. Then the shit just got so much more complicated that the paper couldn't contain it. Or rather, I just couldn't quite get it down. This blog is the only type of reflective writing I do right now. Damn, its the only writing I do really, outside of lists and appointment notes and stuff. But I guess my question for myself is really just why I don't get that same pleasure out of writing that I used to? Why doesn't it make me feel better?

I'd stopped writing after 9.11 but then returned to it about a year after. My grandma died almost a year ago (6.20) and I stopped writing...well actually before that I'd ended this blog at one point and before that I hadn't been able to write in a consistent way during my pregnancy, again except for the blog.

I don't know. I don't even know what I'm trying to get at or what I'm trying to discover, I guess a new way to look at things and to try to feel better, to be able to put things down--out of my head-- and let them rest some where else while I try to rest my own head.

*from Warcloud's Album Nightmares that surface from shallow sleep