-Mobile continuation from Xanga blog PinkyGuerrero
-Most of the graphics and vids click to sources.
-Personal blog for Janika Banks.
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Thursday, February 5, 2015

life as a Sim- this is all just a dream in a program

(This post turned out to be a sort of thought progression. I highly recommend daily blogging as a form of journaling. I've been doing it for years. It's nice to go back and be able to see where one stalls out or makes progress.)

Ok, so going back to bed was a mistake. =_+ Talk about identity issues.

So I was in a different house. Not unusual for a dream. I was me. My sister was herself. I rarely dream about her, but this is still not unusual. It was morning, she was up getting breakfast, I was still in bed. Still cool. Now let's skip everything else in my life, but just know that she and I last lived in the same house when she was 16.

Me and her. She was getting ready to go to school, I went back to bed after my coffee (which I did this morning, went back to bed after my coffee). I could hear her getting breakfast, no big deal, I was nearly back asleep. I suddenly wondered why she hadn't asked me if she could drive my car to school instead of ride the bus. (Scott drove my car in to work this morning because of the weather.) I got up to ask her if she wanted to take my car. Then I stopped and wondered why she didn't have her own car. Ah, weird dream logic, here we go.

So here comes the weird math. I started demanding to know why she didn't have her own car yet (neither one of us had cars at that age), because I knew I was at least ten years older than her because my kid was at least ten years old by now and I didn't have her until after I graduated, and I knew I graduated at 17. So 17+10=27 (I can do math in this dream, yay!), so I had to be at least 27 years old, so why didn't my sister have a car???

I wonder if that's what it's like when people wake up from comas. It was like everything in my life between now and high school had been erased, except for knowing I had a child (who now has her own child, actually). The dream abruptly ended when I found the keys. (I had left my keys out on the table for Scott this morning.) So I'm back up now feeling more irritated than rested.

I can't help feeling this little dream somehow came about in part from looking stuff like this up last night. No, that's not why I said I could do math in this dream. I usually can't even dial a phone number straight in my dreams, so I was really surprised when I woke up and thought "Wow, I actually did real math in that dream."

I might have been 27 when I met one of the authors of that paper I just linked. If you knew what that meant at all and what I went through yesterday, this dream would suddenly have a whole new world of meaning. Let's put some puzzle pieces together. Dreams are fun!

Part of my medical testing this week is to make sure I don't have anything ovarian related causing this really spiky weird pain. I have a solid family history of cancer and cysts galore. Ovarian cysts can cause a variety of crazy pains as swelling presses organs and nerves or ovaries get pushed around and twist things up. I'd already had a trans-vag ultrasound, but before I began the MRI yesterday, my tech wanted to make double sure I wasn't pregnant. Since my nerves go off so bad during MRIs, I spent a few minutes waiting for the result contemplating how suddenly joyful I felt that I could be pregnant, because it would mean I could leave without having the MRI. On the other hand, since I'm this old and was ablated about 18 months ago, there is no way this pregnancy could be allowed without going into full hysterectomy, even in a Catholic hospital. (I'm not Catholic, but Mercy is my fave medical system.)

I've written elsewhere about the double hormone crash supervised by three doctors and a psychologist that sent me spiraling through feeling 'crazy' for a couple of months several years ago and I couldn't tell what was 'real'. During that time I (as menopausal women often do, I'm told) my walls broke down around a really old secret that my psychologist validated was a forced abortion akin to a rape, or reverse rape. Even though I was in a clinic, I woke up from full sedation to find myself tied down and unable to get them to stop. I realize as I'm writing this that I have ever since been terrified of sedation, and MRIs apparently send me round a looney bin.

This is the first time I've ever been able to tie my intense claustrophobia during medical procedures to anything solid. I think I had subconsciously started to figure it out when that tech sprung a surprise pregnancy test on me before the MRI, and then last night out of the blue I started looking up this math stuff, and now that dream this morning.

27 is my magic number. It's the age I was before everything went wrong, when magic still sparkled and I was just starting to figure out my aspie way through social relationships. All my brain studying, all that left vs right, all that Spock vs SpongeBob, all that mysterious stuff in my head I am just now learning to put words to- how different would life have been if I'd been able to tell a topologist back then I can see all of that in my head since I was a child? I just don't know how to get it out. Remember how thrilled I was about finding other people obsessed with polychorons? I can only imagine how my life would have turned out if I could have shared that kind of stuff with my parents growing up. "I see weird shapes when I close my eyes, like a kaleidoscope." Yeah, they already thought I was plenty weird.

I'm trying to show you a spidroball but every time I paste the address it auto downloads, so here. It came from this page.

I'm ok. Well, at least emotionally. I don't know the test results yet. It has always taken me a very long time to process how I feel because of my Asperger's, so sometimes old stuff still pops up. Today I'm rather elated that I can finally nail this horrible claustrophobia to something real. Maybe I'll call my psychologist back up (he cut me loose last summer after 7 years) and see if this is something I can move forward on now. I would very much like to keep reducing my anxiety levels without meds. I've been medicated more than I'm comfortable with this week.

I love it when stuff clicks into place. Now it's time to GET TO WORK! Kinda behind in both my house and internet chores because of all the extra running this week. Yep, this is still my theme song. 

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