Like hands full with too many things at the back of the grocery store and I didn’t get a cart, overwhelmed. There’s too much to do, it all needs to be done well and being one of those face painters at the Renaissance Fair is looking ideal.
When am I going to learn? Things seem doable at the time I’m putting them on my calendar or nodding my head. Sure! Yes! Absolutely, I can do that! When I’m planning, when it’s months away, I am super Container Store organized.
I used to have this dream when I was a little girl. I was in this beautiful field full of blooming bushes. The flowers smelled delicious and the grass was perfect and green. In the dream, I’m in a cute little dress and walking around the bushes, touching the flowers, most of which are in the distance. I’m happy and fascinated by the hum of a few bumble bees. They are busy working the flowers, being bees.
As I continue walking, I notice more and more bees. There aren’t just a few, there are a lot of bees. In the dream, I stop, notice my feet are bare. My toes are painted pink. When I look up, there is a big bumble bee approaching from far away.
I smile, watching him as he swerves his way toward me. His body is fuzzy and his little eyes are glassy. Soon I can see every detail of the bee. He’s rapidly approaching and instead of a happy Pooh Bear honey bee, he looks pissed, mean. At this point, I’m locked on the bee and I can’t look away.
He keeps coming, the buzz gets louder and just as he’s about to slam right into my face, I wake up. Back then, I would usually throw my yellow flower comforter off my little girl body, heart racing. Once I caught my breath, shook the look on that sinister bee’s face out of my mind, I’d shuffle to the kitchen for a drink of water.
I never understood the dream when I was little. As I got older, I thought maybe it meant I was afraid of bees. How could such harmless beauty, the pleasant hum of work, turn so ugly?
I get it now.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Zzzzzzz.