“Anything?” Bantu asked.
“Gimme a sec,” replied Shari. With a gloved hand she reached into the mist hovering before her, dipping a small test tube into it and filling it as best she could. With the other hand she stoppered it before withdrawing it and gently placing it into the analyzer set up on the path next to her.
Shari pulled off the gloves and glanced over at Bantu, who was engaged in his own work. “It’s going to be a few minutes, but I don’t expect the results are going to be any different here than they were at any of the other three sites we’ve been to today.”
Bantu grunted in acknowledgement. “Vapor, not unlike smoke but with properties of mist, that hangs in the air like a bubble over the site of the detonation. Right.”
Shari nodded. “And prolonged contact with it results in very specific types of entropy, depending on material and mass.” She glanced at her discarded gloves, which were already beginning to break down and crumble.
She sighed, troubled. “I just wish we knew what it was.”
I am struggling today. I woke this morning from a dream I can’t remember still somehow feeling sad and melancholy about it. This has been happening to me a lot lately. One of the side effects of the sleep medication I take (a must, if I hope to actually get a restful night’s sleep) is that I very rarely ever remember the dreams I have — which is a pity, because as a creative type I’ve been known to have some truly remarkable dreams. Unfortunately, said medication does not prevent me from experiencing the emotions that remain once the last tatters of the dream are blown away.
Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve dreamed. A lot. And vividly. Dreams that inspire rich, soul-quaking emotion. But always, almost without exception, the memories of those dreams flee the moment I open my eyes, leaving only the ghosts of their emotions to linger in my heart and mind a while longer. I’m nearly certain that most of these dreams are attempts of my sleeping mind to process the pain of my daily, waking life. Sometimes I’m able to conjure an image here, an impression there that give context to the emotions I’m experiencing. But as often as not, all I’m left with is pain without cause, loss without substance.
I hope as time passes, as my new medication becomes suffused throughout my system, as my therapy and support group sessions become more regular, that my wistful dreaming will become less frequent. I’m working hard at developing a new mental image of myself and who I am — and I feel like I’ve made some small amount of progress in that regard already this past week. I hope new understanding will begin to supplant the uncertainty and fear and despair I have felt for so long.
I have more hope now than I’ve had in quite some time and an awareness of a much broader and more diverse support network than I ever knew was available. Thank you, so much, to all of you who have lit candles and come alongside to help me through the dark. It means so much more to me than I can ever say with words.
I had a dream last night – I was sitting in a church, listening while the pastor rolled off a diatribe against Hillary running for president and how we, as Christians, need to stand against her so that she cannot attain the office. What the pastor somehow managed to miss was that Hillary was actually sitting in his congregation this day. Someone who noticed got up and went to her to apologize and explain that it isn’t usually like this in this church, bringing the whole service else to a screeching halt. The pastor was unrepentant for his words, but was embarrassed only because his speech blew up in his face. Everyone else simply felt guilty because they agreed with what he said and now were faced with the very person against whom their feelings were directed.
The whole dream was somewhat unsettling and kind of sad because it was, in my opinion, a fairly accurate reflection on reality. I suspect that if this scenario was to play out in real life, it would probably look much like the way it happened in my dream.
This was just something I felt like sharing. There’s actually a couple of related thoughts that spawn from this, but I’m not sure yet if I’ll actually write them up. I tend to try to steer clear of political topics as much as I can, simply because they tend to make me feel stressed. But we’ll see – sometimes I don’t really get much of a choice in these things.