Non-Domestic Mama: Dreams

Showing posts with label Dreams. Show all posts

Thursday, April 11, 2013

TT: Growing

Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the sidewalk before it stops snowing. - Phyllis Diller

The quote has nothing to do with the post except the growing theme. But it's true so I had to add it.

Yes, they grow up too fast. But at night, when they drift off into dreamland, I get to steal back a few precious seconds of their babyhood.

Linking up with Cari at Clan Donaldson for Theme Thursday - Grow.

Don't forget that the No Housework Party link up is still open. Link up!! Old posts, new posts, pictures of your messy house, pictures of your clean house, all are welcome!
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Thursday, April 26, 2012

Zombie Ethics

My husband and I have been catching up on episodes of The Walking Dead. We are frequent watchers of Zombie movies and other horror movies. In fact, I swear the moment we fell in love was when we found out we both loved Evil Dead.

I never have nightmares after watching scary movies. Well, with the one exception when I was 5. But now for two nights in a row I have found myself having nightmares.

Not really about Zombies. No, my nightmares have been about lost and/or injured children. Because I'm a mom and if anything is going to scare the crud out of me, it's the thought of something hurting my children.

I have one "rule" when it comes to horror movies/shows/books. Do whatever you want to everyone else but leave the pregnant women, babies and children alone. In fact my husband has felt my wrath several times after convincing me to watch a movie (that he had previously viewed) in which my rule wasn't followed. (I'm also not a fan of "revenge" movies.)

In fact, he convinced me to read the first Walking Dead comic book and I was pretty mad at him after I finished it. I refused to read any more.

Despite myself, I have been sucked into the show.

Let's just say they keep toying with my emotions and keeping me on the edge of my seat.

Last night was the first night I didn't have the nightmares. Probably because I was up half the night wrestling with an ethical dilemma.

Would it be right/ok to "kill" a Zombie?

Are Zombies people too?

Are Zombies already dead anyway so it doesn't matter if you shoot them?

Wordless Wednesday: She Was NOT Tired

Not napping . . . Just. Resting. Eyes.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The Black Dreams

When I was about five years old I watched a movie with my father. The details of how I managed to watch the movie are a little fuzzy. I am not sure if he was aware I was watching it with him or not. However the movie itself has been etched forever in my mind.

Twenty plus years later I decided I must find this old movie. The movie that so impressed itself on my five year old mind, I could still practically recite it by heart.

To my surprise, without remembering anything about the title or any of the actors, I was able to recite some of those lines to my dear friend Google and find that movie. My husband then tracked it down and bought it for me.

In particular I remembered a certain song. The song that for so long haunted me.

Because it visited me in my dreams. My nightmares.

Every night I would awake screaming. Mommy! He was there. He was in my room. I can still see him. He is just as vivid now as he was then. I remember my pounding heart. The cold sweat. My quick heavy breaths as I gasped for air. He was right there in my room, looking over my bed. He appeared on my window shade. The clown with his wide menacing grin. As I screamed he calmly sang his song. As I cried and pleaded for my mother to come he danced his little dance.

My parents would calm me and tell me that it was just a dream. That he could not hurt me. But I SAW him. He was there. Maybe he couldn't hurt me in real life but he had power in my dreams. They would tell me it was ok. I could go back to sleep. But that was his realm. He would be there waiting for me. He was always there waiting for me. And so I would end up sleeping in their bed for the night.

This is what he sang . . .