Whimsy & an Appearance By Stan

She says,
And for a picture of this time right now, I resort again to words......

Every morning first thing, it's biscuits for the pussy cats.

After my cup of tea, I then clean the trays. I've found a good sweet smelling clumping litter at last. In the evenings, I clean the trays again if they have been inside during the day time and then it's tinned or fresh food for dinner.

If I've gone over the road to the Pub for an evening drink, there will frequently be a feline guard of honour to accompany my return.

It's good to have a schedule again after a few shattering years. Slowly I'm beginning to develop my own routines again. Ah, a peaceful life is a GOOD thing!!!

This past week has been a busy one. I began Therapy to start with and already I'm sleeping better. The dreams have reduced in intensity and the feeling of possible threat is much reduced. I've also begun the proceedings which will hopefully lead to some dental repairs and better health in the near future.

At this moment, Stan is scratching at my door. He wants to come inside to visit me in my work room and to distract me. I open the door.

'Hi, I'm Stanley!'

Stanley has succeeded in his mission. Pat, stroke, purr purr. It turns out that he wants to be let outside onto the front verandah, possibly in order to socialise with his admirers. Stan has introduced me to many people from our street.

Having been successfully distracted, I go to the kitchen for another cup of tea. As usual, kitchen and dining rooms are shining gold with the wonderful light that comes inside morningtimes of such sunny days. Frequently at this time, I'm sitting at the dining room table catching up with note books or study. Often I'm writing out my dreams in the new pink dream book. In the dining room, this morning, Zorro is again trying to open the fridge. I've had to block the fridge door with a wedge of wood. The area in Feng Shui is the wood area, but a block of wood is a not a usual cure. For such a considerable alpha cat, Stan has a surprisingly gentle peeping squeaky miou unlike Zorro, whose miouw is hoarse and much more butch. Zorro is definately NOT an alpha cat! He's happy to be let out the back door where he will attend the catnip. Zorro rarely shares the social area at the front of the house. You say hello to him and he runs!

This morning I'm surprised that I don't recall a single dream from last night.

Last week it was a different story. First there was the dream of winning a large sum of money. For a person who's done a lot of voluntary work in the vain hope of finding paid work, for a person who isn't well adapted to conventional workplaces on account of Asperger's Syndrome, for a person gullible enough to be ripped off many times in life, that lump sum dream was pleasant. I was busily and happily paying off debts as I awoke in a very good mood.

The interesting thing about dreams is that one may visit an entirely different Universe each and every evening. The morning after that little spinning robot clicked next to me and cash was suddenly abundant, I woke from another place, having been offered a little bit of part time work. I liked the idea of this work which is a small part in a Wim Wenders movie. 

Ah, this must sound like hubris, but it isn't exactly hubris. Not really.

When Wim Wenders came to Australia to shoot the extraordinary saga Until The End Of The World starring the late and beautiful Solveig Donmartin along with William Hurt and a fine cast of Australian and International actors, I was visiting Alice Springs with friends who worked on the movie. In yet another instance of unpaid work, I did a lot of driving and messenger work. In return for that, I was invited to visit the set, an honour since Wim had banned a couple of other hopeful writers at that stage.

(That's an unfinished essay, those sacred days and weeks.)

I acted up that night. I'd been infuriated by a person who successfully played a malicious mind game on me.

In my dream, Wim remembered me and asked me why I'd acted up. Wearing my home made dress, I confessed that I'd been seriously tormented by a mind game player and as an Aspergian I went a bit wild with barely constrained fury that night. I told him about Asperger's and he listened to me intently.

When Wim Wenders communicates, he really communicates. He listens to everything, sees everything, even in personal Dream Time.

In fact although I'm not good at pretending things, I adore acting. It's like being someone else, finding out about other worlds. As a very shy kid, I always loved to be school plays and I later enrolled for a Drama course at University in the late sixties, an exciting time to do Drama. Unfortunately I had to depart University to attend to a nervous breakdown and also to have a child and eventually I studied cultures and religions, education and psychology and so on. Sure, I worked a decade and a half or so in Radio, dramatising my essays as it were, but apart from that, community theatre is all I've managed to carry off in recent times. (Voluntary Work yet again!!!!)

Yes my friends, there are such things as Wishful Thinking Dreams and I've achieved far more than an accumulation of pussy cat tales in many of the three decades worth of nightlife movies and sagas in my notebooks, not all of which got lost when I suddenly became not only horribly ill but also homeless back in 2000!!!

(That circumstance was predicted I suppose in the dream of the previous year where I found myself unable to reach my journals which were languishing in a refrigerator across a sleet-blown stormy bay! Thankfully in this Wake World, most of them are now eventually recovered!)

So then, with all the running round from last week and with the recovery from running around, I've not had much time to blog. I still carry my Blogging For Dummies book everywhere I went. I think the absorption process is improving.

My daughter has shared some wonderful blogs with me.

My favourite of all is Waiterrant! What a superb writer! The dark character of co-worker Willem is positively Shakespearean. The good characters are good and the bad not simply repulsive but hilarious. The insight into human motivation is extraordinary, the recent Bob Dylan quote most sweetly apt. With the launch of his book and I suppose, with his anonymity behind him, Waiterrant tells us that he's resigned from the stage he so aptly named Cafe Macchiavelli! He says he'll keep on blogging. I sure hope so!

I guess all obsessive writers are obsessive readers. I don't have as much access to books as I'd like. The price of new books is ridiculous here in Oz for a start and even getting to the Library has become a physical impossibility.

To compensate, I've become addicted to reviews.

Last weekend, Sydney's Sunday Telegraph magazine published an excerpt from a fine sounding book called Under The Paw by Tom Cox, a 'hard partying rock critic' and until recently, a secret cat lover. I wonder if they could use a review?