Drip drip...

I learned to swim when I was around 6. I have swam in pools, ponds, rivers, lakes and oceans. I have no problem with large bodies of water no matter what size. I didn't think it really mattered how much water there was, if you know how to swim, you swim. You wouldn't drown unless something tragic happened. You swim in an ocean just like you swim in a swimming pool. 

However,  I have learned in my life  that there is a certain body of water that is just the right amount that could put you in danger of drowning if you aren't careful. Funny thing is, it's not very much water at all. A tiny little amount in relative terms. About the size of a tear. Or two...or three. 

The only body of water I have ever feared drowning in is the one made up of all the tears I have shed in my life and not just any tears, not the ones caused by others but the ones I have caused myself. Those are the most toxic and most likely to fill my lungs and drag me under into its suffocating swirling black depths. 

You would think I would keep that in mind, that toxic body of water, that grows deeper with every new drop I feed it. 

A reoccurring dream has me head scratching...again.

As I have stated several times on this blog, I often have dreams over and over again that generally end up meaning something to me, or coming true in some cases. Quite often these reoccurring dreams occur in the same place, like a bedroom or a particular road that ran near where I lived for awhile in my teens. One dream I have had many times over the past few years puts me in a bedroom, though this one is a room I'm not familiar with, in which I am on one side of the locked door and someone else is on the other side trying very hard to get in. That someone is almost always my father though now and again it is some unknown person. 

These dreams are not exactly scary but I do wake up from them feeling stressed and a bit anxious. I'm not sure what the purpose is considering my father has been dead for quite some time now. It's not like I will ever find myself on the other side of a door from him while he tries to knock it down. 

The more interesting thing to me is that I don't feel as if I dream that often. I know we forget our dreams generally upon waking giving us the impression we don't dream, so that may be it, but most mornings I wake up with no memory of having dreamt. When I do dream they are vivid life like events that have very little fantasy type scenarios involved. In order to come true they need to be capable of coming true. Dreams that reoccur often do come true in some fashion, though, so I suppose if I dreamed of flying it could be me in an airplane and not me personally flying...but my dreams don't generally work like that either. One thing doesn't generally stand for another thing. If I ever dream that I can fly chances are I can and just need to muster up the courage to jump off the highest available peak. My dreams are more like that .

 The dream about my father on the other side of a door trying to get me is on my mind a lot as he recently showed up in once again doing just that. The way my dreams generally work doesn't mean my father on the other side of a door trying to get me symbolizes some inner angst...but that at some point in my future, my dad will be on the other side of a door trying to get me. That is what the dream tells me..but that is impossible. Over the years I have had this same dream too many times to count, but I don't give it too much thought because my father is dead. End of story. The dream can't come true...so why do I keep having them?

One other interesting thing about my dreams is that I don't dream of the people currently in my life all that often. While married to my ex for 20 years he rarely showed up in my dreams...as did my father while living at home. An occasional cameo role is about the most they could hope for. My children probably show up more often than any others in my life, but then again, still not as often as it would seem they should. The love of my life probably even less so. This is something I have always found a little strange. My dreams are generally about me, of course, but often just me or me with unknown people set in familiar surroundings...friends and family are almost never co stars. 

I have no idea if that means anything at all in regards to my psychological make up or sanity level but it is something I have experienced all my life so is normal, whatever that it. However, dreaming of my dead father in a way that makes it seem as if a future event might take place that is impossible (unless one believes in the zombie potential...hmmm) but also knowing that those dreams of mine that do reoccur often come true in surprisingly accurate ways has me scratching my head.

Not sure if I should find this interesting...or be worried about it. My dad alive was hard enough to live with....not sure I want to find out what the alternative is.

Bahrain: Humanity lost among sectarian divide.

On Facebook, a pic of a man on fire was displayed with the caption that he was a Shiia that caught himself alight while setting some tires on fire. The comments under it were a litany of disgusting and very telling opinions about how Sunnis and Shiia see each other during these days of blood shed. Most of the comments were along the lines of  he deserved what he got for being a protester/terrorist despite the fact that he was dying a most horrible death. My reply was this:

This man may have been "the enemy" or a Shiia before he set himself on fire and thus might possibly warrant every mean spirited comment left here, but the moment he set himself on fire is the moment all of that hatred should have been dropped and the humanity of this man allowed to shine through. At the end of the day Sunnis and Shiia must see each other as first human beings, then Arabs, then Bahrainis, and lastly (if you must) as Sunni and Shiia before any thought of peace can come to Bahrain. If a man on fire dying a horrible death cannot let you drop the hatred even for a moment and have a second of empathy for him then where is the future of Bahrain headed? Not towards peace that is for sure because each side sees the other as less than human...even during the last moments of an agonizing death. There is no peace to be had in that depth of hatred. 

Oh mind of mine...

Being alone with my thoughts
What black chaos
What red pain

Filling my head with your sneaky ways
Devious pain filled images
Do you even care...oh mind of mine

Three little words on a screen
Causing doubt...hurt...regrets
Squeezing my heart

Wonder of wonders
It still functions...beats
Tho each one leaves me breathless

Choking my throat
Filling my eyes so I can't see
Squeezing...always squeezing

Oh mind of mine
You are not really my friend
Will you leave me too?

I wish I knew how to be free....

This song has been with me for years...I guess I would consider it the soundtrack to my life. Once again I am listening to it over and over...

Windows

During my years in Bahrain I lived in 4 different places...thus 4 different houses/apartments. While standing at my kitchen sink today washing dishes I kept glancing out my window that is right behind the sink and watched birds, squirrels, traffic...felt the breeze coming through and smelled the grass, flowers. I watched the tops of the tree branches sway and couldn't help but just feel calm at this vista.

Then it made me think about my years in Bahrain and the fact that from all the places I lived in...I did not have any windows in two of those places to look out of, one of them had windows that looked at a wall and the last had windows that just looked out on desert and nothing more. Varying shades of tan with nothing to break up the sameness of it all. I'm sure this contributed to the prison like feeling I always had. I hated my life inside my houses...but there was nothing to look out on either to make me momentarily forget where I was...and more importantly who I was.

I realize that my one kitchen window in this apartment in the US affords me a view that has everything I yearned for over there; color, foilage, wildlife, sound, a cool breeze...a soothing calmness that if nothing else...makes the chore of doing dishes a lot more pleasant.

So yesterday I had a chat with a naked lady....

After spending 23 years in Bahrain I've come to expect women to be more clothed than "normal"...as in seeing arms or legs was very rare there in the early days...now things are more relaxed and the expat community are fairly free to wear what they want...within reason. Besides the amount of skin covered up in the public sphere...the amount we see in the private (home, friends house etc) is generally almost the same as in the street. Your not likely to catch more than the usually accepted amount of skin even when inside and away from the prying eyes of the public (men).

I got used to that and funny enough when I came back to the states I was immediately blown away with what passes for being dressed while out in public these days. I've seen some women who apparently didnt finish getting dressed before leaving home...maybe they had an emergency...at Walmart...and thus left most of it laying on the bed. Or something (men too but generally it's the women whose state of undress is their fashion). As with all things...you get used to it.

Yesterday in college I entered the girl's changing room for the first time in the 3 semesters I've been attending this college. The dressing and shower rooms are split in two with the shower area having a small dressing area as well. I was chatting to my fellow class student when around the corner came one of the college instructors stark naked...coming from the shower area...not so much as a wet rag to hide the strategic bits.

Now I'm not a prude or anything...Ive seen naked before...but here is my beef with this. I grant you that it is a shower/changing room set up. I grant you that your likely to see some nudity etc...people are in a hurry and shit happens. What I dont get it...for those who choose to walk around stark naked...why do you assume the rest of us are ok with seeing you in such a state?

In other words, your "right" to be naked supercedes our right not to see you naked? I dont mind seeing women naked (or men for that matter)...the human body is amazing in its many forms...what I do mind is when someone takes away my right to choose whom I see naked. The girl's locker room was set up in such a way that she (or anyone) could easily dress in the same area they showered in. In other words, there was no need for her to parade around naked...so why force the rest of us to see her that way?

Now I know someone will get on here and say...well you dont have to go in the shower rooms if your afraid or upset to see someone completely naked. Your right...I dont have too...but what has that got to do with anything? Even inside the shower room why cant a certain amount of modesty be expected? Just because we are all women does that mean all the women in there are quite fine with complete nudity...just because you love being naked does that mean everyone around you loves for you to be naked too?

Anyhow, it irritated me...maybe Im oldschool....but I feel like I should be able to choose whom I see naked...and unless you are fully aware that everyone around you is fine with seeing your saggy bits and untrimmed glory...then maybe you should grab a towel and keep your goods to yourself?

Just a thought.