Danger Dreams

I have this recurring dream: I have been called to serve a proselyting mission again. The destination changes, the Missionary Training Center changes, my current situation changes, but the things that stay the same are that I am a) surprised; b) not sure that I can do it again because of the physical labor involved or the fact that I don't know the language; and c) almost completely unprepared in some major way. In the last iteration of the dream, I was going to Bogota, Columbia, and I didn't have any skirts to wear, only torn jeans. I was also stressed that I was leaving in just a few moments and I didn't know a word of Spanish.

My friend, Shanna (I'll use her name since she has made enough comments on here that her name is no longer a mystery. Hi, Shanna!), whom I selfishly forced to analyze my dreams while she was in the throes of a migraine, stated the obvious: I am feeling unprepared about something. Strangely, it was kind of an epiphany for me. I had only put together the fact that I was having the recurring dream a few days before. When I am waking up several times in the night to take care of various children (and the occasional cat who wants to go outside), I remember more of my dreams. I noticed the missionary dream kept popping up.

So what am I unprepared for? I don't know. I am unprepared to answer that question. I won't go into my lengthy self-analysis here (for which you should kneel and give thanks that I save that for my journal. Sure, I put a lot of my psyche on here, intentionally or not, but I do keep the really juicy stuff for myself), but I think it's sort of a general feeling. I can't pin down the exact problem.

I was just reading Psychology Today (motto: psychology in sound bites) and one of the articles talked of a man's theory that dreams are the practice arena for acting on danger. We dream so that we can practice our response to what our brain perceives as real and potential threats. For instance, I did have a dream a few nights ago that I needed to use a gun against someone, but I didn't know how to turn the safety off. I don't actually know how to use a gun in real life. My only experience with shooting guns is a shotgun when I was, maybe, seven or eight. Some neighbors let me shoot at a can but didn't warn me about the kickback. My shoulder hurt for days. All I know about handguns I have seen on TV, so I have no idea if what I have seen is even true. I just know there's a safety that has to be turned off if you want to shoot. And in my dream, that was the problem. I really needed to shoot a guy and I couldn't.

I don't know if my recurring mission dream has anything to do with perceived danger, unless my body is remembering the fact that I biked or walked approximately 20 miles a day and knows I am in no condition to do that in my current state.

Most of my dreams, however, are usually just mundane on one hand and bizarre on the other. Subconscious diarrhea.

In family news, we had a ward party at the neighborhood pool last night. It was potluck, so I saw my chance to off-load a container of strawberry cream salad (with marshmallows) that I knew we weren't going to be able to finish. I dumped a container of cottage cheese into it and away we went.

I didn't even bother getting into my swimming suit as I knew I would spend my time following Child Six around while he investigated various substances, known and unknown, to stuff into his mouth. Husband and the other kids went swimming, but Husband came back after a while carrying Child Five, who looked pale and wan. "He just went white and looked like he was going to faint, " said Husband as he wrapped Five in a towel and rubbed him on the back. "Maybe he was really cold. The water is freezing." The water boiler has broken, one of many things that need funding at the pool, and quite a few of the kids who came were blue-lipped and shivering violently despite the warmth of the day (in the 90's). Five recovered quickly, ate a brownie, and went back to playing. I did find him later, though, sitting in the big pool on the steps. I scolded him soundly for that, as he can not yet swim, and made him promise never to get into the big pool without one of his parents. (Hey, I remember a dream where I kept having to pull Five out of pools of water. Danger dream.). The rest of the party was uneventful and I ended up taking Five and Six home to get them ready for bed. The rest arrived home not long after. It was hard getting them all into bed as I was so tired.

Today I bought some Floradix, an iron supplement in liquid, vegetarian form. It doesn't, you know, stop up the works like regular iron supplement pills based from meat. I hope it works. I am starting to feel really abnormal with how tired I am, like I could sleep for days at any given point. I mean, really tired. I can not stress how tired I am. Tired.

I also bought a basil plant. I love basil. When we got home I made grilled two-cheese sandwiches with fresh basil. Yum.

I am including the recipe for one of my favorite side-dishes that showed up at the potluck last night. It was a big hit with my kids, too. Six was walking around with two fistfuls of it that he had swiped from an unguarded plate.

Shantel's Pasta Salad

2 eggs
1 cup vinegar
1 tsp salt
1 cup mayonnaise
2--4 hard-boiled eggs, chopped
1/2 to 1 onion, chopped
1 cup sugar
1 Tbl. horseradish
1 package cooked vermicelli
1/2 - 1 cups chopped celery

Mix together the eggs, sugar, vinegar, horseradish, and salt in a saucepan. Cook until it boils and thickens. Cool. Mix remaining ingredients into the sauce. Chill.

Mmmmmm.