My disconnected phone rang

As I think I may have mentioned before, I have a little person inside who alerts me when he/she thinks I should wake up by ringing a door bell, ringing my cell phone, knocking loudly on my door, or ringing my landline phone.  Today it was the landline  beside my bed which I knew was disconnected (there was a short in the outlet) that rang shrilly, once.  Does anyone out there in blogland have a similar little person inside who takes such care of them?

 

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
This entry was posted in A mixed bag, Unconscious and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to My disconnected phone rang

  1. Frank Hubeny says:

    I think I do. Sometimes the weirdest ideas pop into my head often upon waking in the morning. I’d love to take credit for them, but I don’t really think it was me or totally me. Sometimes those weird ideas are not very reliable, at least on short term, but I’m grateful for whatever appears.

    Like

  2. Nan Mykel says:

    Thanks so much for replying, Frank. I just woke from a dream that helped me understand why I’ve developed so much interest in transgenders, including finishing a book on one coming out. It appears I’m still struggling with my non-assertiveness! A great gift… Some time ago I looked up the before and after state of dreaming–before is hypnogogic and after is hypnopompic…We’re lucky.

    Like

  3. It’s a mystery! Have you ever asked: ‘who’s there?’

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