Friday, February 21, 2014

Cruel and Unusual Amusement

*I checked. I haven't posted on here for over 6 months. Yeah, yeah ... I've been busy, guys. Get off my back. Let's see ... I've moved from my home of 20 years into a lakefront, fixer-upper cottage, I've had a new grandchild and I've turned the corner on my sixth decade. 

So what prompted my setting down my paintbrush and Aleve and taking this little time-out to return to journaling about the minutiae of my life, the pieces of my mind? You only get one guess and even that doesn't count:
                                     A rib-pounding bout of laughter. What else?

So I was having this dream, one of those ones where the heroic protagonist (me) is locked in battle with an evil force. In this particular case, that force was an especially mean-girl type, who actually killed people by driving them crazy by grabbing onto them in a bear hug and never letting go. Ever. By way of interpretation, this may mean I don't like overly-needy types, or I've conformed to imagining a gentler form of murder after all these years of maternal censoring. Who knows? Who cares? It was a dream. Anyway, this evil, human boa constrictor had already killed others and was setting her snake eyes on me.

Then she made the grab. I went crazy, launching into a frantic fist-swinging fight for my life. In the dream, I was severely clobbering her about the head and neck. Then, out of the dream, I heard someone say OUCH!

It's true -- you always hurt the one you love. Apparently, in my vigorous somnolent struggle to live another day, I had decked my husband.

Naturally, I woke up and ... well, inside I felt a great deal of shame and remorse, but that wasn't adequately reflected in my external behavior. I could barely squeak out an apology through my hysterical laughter. I mean, come on. It was soooooooo funny! Just imagine -- one minute you're having a very realistic dream in which you're an indomitable force for good, and the next, you hear someone outside of that world say, indignantly, "OUCH!"

For once in my life, I could nearly grasp of the implications of The Hurt Locker.

And the harder I tried to explain, the harder I laughed. Fortunately, I was able to establish that I hadn't injured him (as if he'd admit it), which only served to free me to come completely unhinged.

I laughed until I cried. I laughed until I gagged. I laughed until the entire bed quaked. I laughed until I could actually hear my victim trying to suppress his own chuckles. Finally, I had to get up and walk it off. I drank some cold water. I paced, and the dog looked at me with a furrowed brow. His expression said, should I run for help, perhaps call 911? When I finally climbed back into bed, I still battled the occasional choked outburst.

It was painful and luxurious at the same time. I love nothing more than an uncontrollable siege of laughter; I truly believe it is life-extending. So while I didn't want my protracted period of enjoyment to spill over into the cruel and heartless, I thought it felt just great. Just what the doctor ordered as a detox after months of unrelenting stress.

Fortunately, my husband's a good sport. Usually.

So here it is the morning after, and I'm feeling refreshed and, for the first time in months, my muse has worked it's way out of hibernation. Thank you, God.

And thank you, mean girl and hubby. I owe you. I will resist the urge to hit either of you the next time you really tick me off.

1 comment:

  1. I had a dream last week and woke up Bill (your hubby's brother for those out there unfamiliar with our connection), exclaiming in a very articulated manner, "This is a knife!" whilst stabbing him with my fist. Tell Jim he got off easy. BTW, yay the drought is over, keep 'em coming your fans (@ least this one) needs a dose of double-over laughter from your prose more than once every 6 months.