Sunday, March 8, 2015

A nap.

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Oh, well, an extended nap.  Trying to get days and nights sorted is... sometimes... a bit of a trick.  Getting an actual nap (for me, right at two hours), while pushing the clock around and trying to do a few things, is quite a trick.  Still, the nap was short enough that I think it will still work as intended.  Just a stop gap to get me over that lump of exhaustion at mid-day.  Should have napped earlier, but how a path will work, up ahead and out of view, is not always known until one rounds the bend and sees the layout.  I came, I saw, I napped.  Twas a good nap.

I had a couple of minor dreams.  The first one was deliciously terrifying.  Bull riding.  I have always wanted to do that, but nothing in my life put me in range of giving it a shot.  As a very young boy I somehow got in with a group who road calves.  I was probably no older than seven?  Something.  We had to rope it (with some help), then ride.  I didn't win, but we all got a dollar coin anyway.  I am sure the entertainment value was worth it to the men who ran the event.  I would have paid the dollar for the opportunity.  In any case, this was a full sized, plus, bull.  I looked like a regular cowboy on it, which means it must have been huge.  I remember climbing on it's back, in the shoot... the doubled gates.  They were keeping tight rains on it because it was known to be a bit wild.  Then a sound, was so focused on the bull that I can't remember if it was a whistle, shot, or buzzer.  Then off into the wild blue.  I did well.  Not sure if I won, but I rode for long enough to be taken seriously, and probably place.  What a ride.  Talk about ups and downs, and arounds!  Still a bit dizzy when I look at that part of it in the review panel.  I dismounted well enough, but went down (as I think is usual).  The damned thing did try to get me, actually did a bit.  Nothing serious, mud helps cushion and the stomp(s) and headbutts were just glancing.  May not have been real, but I remember the feel of the hide, the scent and feel of it's breath in the cool weather, and the absolute thrill.  It's as close as I will ever get, and I am happy for it.

I had another dream.  This time of cross country running.  I never liked that in real life.  But I liked the idea of it.  I'm just not built for cross country, even when I was a thinner, even thin, man and boy.  In the dream, though, I glided along at a fine clip.  I found my breath, and measure, and paced quite well.  Not a full marathon, more like a 5 or maybe 10 kilometer.  I don't remember wind, or too much heat.  But the feel of the road, the right pace of air and legs and arms, a sustainable tempo that I have found in swimming but never running.  It was a lovely dream.  Not as good as the bull ride, but, it too, I take happily.  Perhaps it was my knees.  I knew that too much running and they would go.  They never did, but I switched to swimming rather than running at every chance possible.  Old athletes are often physical wrecks.  Other than the knee spur thing from overuse even so, I haven't had a knee operation, thankfully.  I just never could, even when I honestly competed in such, could find my wind... to my mind... running.  I finally did.

I'll be awake a few more hours, then figure my way back to bed.  I am trying not to wake too much.  A small trajectory, a low ceiling, then a crash back to the mattress, I hope.  Hmm, could call my friend, set something up for tomorrow.  Later, or maybe good night.

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