...
My sister was not from our father. She was from mom cheating. She had another sister from the same father, but that sister was in my mother's face about inheriting our family trust, and I grabbed her by her straw bottle blonde hair and stuffed her face in the water at the bank of a river. It was me telling myself not to drown her, to not actually kill her, that woke me up.
Bolt upright at around 5am after not falling asleep until at least one last night. So I got up and pondered about that a bit, but was putting myself in order to really start writing my opening brief, when the telephone rang, but they hung up before I answered. They called back just as I was getting into my work again, and it was the local homeless medical professionals clinic calling to say in a highly alarmed tone of voice to say that she'd faxed my ultrasound report in a referral to UCSF and I should wait two days for them to get a chance to go over the information and then call them to set up an appointment.
That was a little unsettling, like suddenly there is a fire under the most inattentive health care providers I've ever encountered. Still, I returned to my desk, going over sample briefs for format and what things get said in what spot, when the phone rang yet again.
It was UCSF saying the soonest they can see me is Tuesday the 22nd at 2:30pm. She also sounded like there was a fire lit under her, so maybe I'm just slowed and addled from stress, but we're talking about oncology here, so. Okay. I'll be there... right in the middle of needing to be making the best appellate brief an untrained litigator can muster in her dimming old age.
So happened I came across a pro bono service for indigent appellants in the midst of all this, but by that time I was, again, quaking and head spinning and I got the bright idea to get a friend who is a potentate at a mega-firm to call these people for me and impress upon them the need and the wonderfulness of my overall presence even in extremis... because, honestly, I never fail to be entertaining as fuck when I'm in extremis.
He is going over it enough to maybe be able to make the successful pitch. I mean, if telling them that I'm now in about the 80% chance its cancer zone, albeit possibly caught early enough and definitely not the kind of life-threatening as most cancers... probably going to live... but... well... the stress needle keeps getting knocked out from under that mountain of B3 over which I have buried my aching nerves.
So anyway, that dream was full of relatives, but we were out of doors for most of it and in half-constructed rooms for some of it. So this will be the relative in the absolute, I think.
I need to settle down and consider this harder, but I'm trying to line up the different dream imageries with arcane Buddhist teachings, and this is supremely healthy because it is the one thing that keeps my nerves from flying out my ears and psychic energy flattening everything in a ten mile radius.
So you guys please get to work on those garage projects so we can make everything wonderful. I'm listening to Mae because she was a pristine sculpture of adamantine researcher for the truth before almost anyone else and remembering that we saw so much of this coming clear back then also helps makes me less freaked by world affairs.
pipe up any time....
