Something I'm really noticing a lot in this recovery is how deep and complex my dreams have been. I assume, without going back to check, that I've said something about them already this week, but wow, it was intense today. I'm far enough out from the numbing blocks injected Tuesday morning that pain is pretty sharp. Anytime I press on one of these gigantic bruises, it's like lying on toothbrushes made of sewing pins. So today, instead of using opioids, I decided to dig back into my fibromyalgia meds, and use a tiny dose of gabapentin to specifically address the nerve pain. It worked exactly as I needed it to, but since it's not one I take regularly, it meant a long, deep nap in my recliner. I'm pretty sure I snored, as sore and dry as my throat was afterwards, but what was most memorable was the dream I just could not wake from.
Anyone who knows me well should not be surprised my dreams often center around house hunting or moving into new houses, and this one was right up there with the best of them. The house was a mid-century modern brick, sort of like the one I have now, but on a corner lot where the side street was just barely more than an alley. It reminded me strongly of the intersection where we moved to in Oklahoma, when my parents first split up, and my mom bought a tiny little house about 4 blocks from where her parents lived. I've dreamed of that location often, but the house is always different than it was in real life. This time the interior of the house was a little on the worn-out side, but we had a lot of ideas how to freshen it up. Both my girls were still living with us in the dream, and I think they were just teenagers. What really stood out were the neighbors, and how quickly the Mr got involved with their neighborhood construction plans (I think one project might have been a Buddhist center going in down the block, and there was something else I was trying to understand during the dream and just couldn't). When I woke up, I told him about the big front yard landscaping project he had started in my dream, and how cool and funky the porch overhang was that he "built." It was trapezoidal, made of brown sheet metal with a pierced border, and it was a 1950s modern masterpiece. I'm absolutely crushed that it wasn't real. I should try and draw it tomorrow, to show him, and see whether it is even possible for it to exist.
We had a certain gorgeous kid over today for scheduled babysitting. I made a pizza for all of us for lunch, using the tomatoes she insisted we buy at Costco last week. Despite talking over mommy on our pre-visit call ("Mato!!" "Psza!"), she completely ignored the pizza, and just ate fresh tomatoes. Honestly, I can't even be mad. She is just proving how much she belongs to this family. I can't wait for gardening season. We will grow ALL the tomatoes. No matter what we tried, which room we were in, or how quiet or noisy or cuddly we were, she would not take a nap for any reason. She eventually had some quiet time just sitting with me under a blanket on the recliner, finally settling enough to drink milk right before her daddy picked her up. It will be easier next week, when I'm not cringing, trying not to yelp, every time she rolls the back of her head against my sensitive surgery sites. Today was enough to send me for the second gabapentin that built that weird dream in the late afternoon. Although, if it means I have a solid plan on how to re-landscape the front yard, it will all have been worth it.
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