The stress is making me crazy. Last night demonstrated that in vivid detail. I was at my family's cabin, by myself, waiting for my mother or brother to come. I looked out the window, and saw a man collecting recyclable cans and bottles from the grounds around it, on the road that led past the cabin to where other residences exist only in my imagination. His presence made me nervous. Then he was inside the cabin, telling me that he was going to take things from us, until eventually he and his associates (who started appearing) were going to take the house and the land too. He seemed to give me an ultimatum, that the theft was going to happen tomorrow. So I had time to try to contact people, to beg for numbers on my side to fight them. I scrambled to find people who were answering phones and texts, reaching a few. I remember literally asking my mother for lawyers, guns, and money. I told the assembled miscreants, in the earthiest Anglo-Saxon terms, that I would gladly shoot to kill them if they came to wrestle my land from me. Their leader, who was a thinner, golden-blonde version of Judi Dench, mocked my show of strength. She ridiculed my conviction that ten years ago, the theft and vandalism we suffered was perpetrated by someone I went to school with, when in fact it was them, and I just didn't know it. Things started to be missing from inside the cabin. I noticed that the mantle and hearth had been removed, and there were only scars on the wall visible. My reinforcements started to arrive, and the gang started to retreat.
I woke up, sweltering in my spot under the heat vent, feeling like my liver was filled with lava. I realized that I had woken once or twice but had fallen right back into that nightmare. I got up and walked around a little, and finally the bad dream fell away. I guess the lesson learned is not to have spicy snacks and watch Person of Interest late at night, when I'm already on edge. At least I had no problem getting to an 8:15 appointment on time today.
The man is halfway through his longest flight now, or almost halfway there. Once he lands, we still have another layover before he is home. I am not amused with how poorly this trip was laid out, and he is even less so. I hope he is even vaguely awake by the time he gets here. I imagine he's going to be a mess for the first day or two. Or three. But tired and cranky or not, I'll be glad to have him for as long as I can get him. Soon, my pretties. Soon.
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