Saturday morning – I wish I could say that I had slept in and was refreshed and delighted to be alive – but instead, I woke up early, came to work, and I’m kind of grumpy about being awake. Chris’s schedule and mine haven’t meshed well over the past month or so; he gets in from work late, and keyed up; he needs to read a while, watch TV, eat something… and I have to wake up early for work. He tries to keep it quiet, so I can sleep – but it’s tough. I’m hoping that he will get a “real job” soon and won’t have to work nights any more.
That said, I’m not entirely sure why I’m sitting here setting up a LiveJournal when I ought to be diligently filing or typing or spread-sheeting something – I guess it’s partly a reaction to not wanting to be here, or even conscious, early on a Saturday… partly just a general feeling of being disconnected from my work stuff. I love my job, and love the place where I work – but sometimes I get sort of sideways to the actual day-to-day stuff that’s involved.
This morning’s dreams were lost in a cloud of groggy disorientation, but the one from 2:30 when Chris came to bed was very clear:
Bees in the Greenhouse
I’m in an old house; I think that Chris and I have just bought it, or inherited it, or something. The walls and floors are wood, and there are several areas that are sort of rough-cut, like they’re in the process of being renovated. I walk through a down-stairs room – it seems like a basement, with a dirt floor, but at the same time there is no ceiling, and it’s open all the way up to the roof, which is very bright. My little greenhouse is here on the floor; I look at it, and somehow step into it (in reality, it’s way too small – only about knee height). I think Chris is here with me; I’m talking with him about the greenhouse. I realize after we’re inside of it, that a hive of bees has taken up residence in the greenhouse; they are set up in the top area where the lights go. I’m not afraid of them, I’m fascinated with them – I step on a couple, because there are so many, but the only fear I have is that I’ll crush them and hurt them. One or two sting my feet, but they don’t hurt much. We carefully climb back out of the greenhouse, and we’re talking about how the bees are living inside the house – I notice a little space in the trim of one of the windows where they’re flying in and out. I look up to the ceiling – and it’s glass, with vines growing around it; it’s very pretty. Now, we’re lying in bed, and somehow the greenhouse is half over the foot of the bed – I remark that it’ll be safe because the covers are thick enough to keep the bees off of our feet, but we’ll have to be careful not to shake the greenhouse and jar them. I have an image of taking apart a wild hive – lifting the layers of comb apart from each other. There aren’t bees on it.
(I think that in real life, my feet were falling asleep, and tingling somewhat – I was lying flat on my back, an unusual sleeping position for me. I think this was the “bee stings” I was feeling, translated into the dream.)
More later. I’m trying to figure out how to set up all the stuff that goes with this…