What do you dream?
As I child, I dreamed dark tales of the end of the world, of standing on a tall building watching the bombs fall down. Friends asked why. Wouldn't hiding away give a better chance of escape? But in my dreams there would be no escape. One of the Big Three--America Russia and China--would eventually push the button and the end would come.
I dreamed tragic lovers torn apart by war. I dreamed the last surviving child, maimed and crying. I dreamed... and I wrote down my tales. The English teacher asked why. It's easy to make people cry, she said. Why not stretch myself and make them smile instead?
But I did have other dreams and other tales to tell. I wrote stories of heroes (women and teens of course) fighting evil, saving from disaster, and changing the course of history. I liked those dreams.
And sometimes I heard the monsters go bump in the night. I still hear them on occasion. Every once in a while they call my name, or a small girl (my children are all sons) cries out to me. Sometimes I see the spreading stain of a vivid puddle turn my vision sour, but it goes away. So does the migraine that follows. But I don't have hallucinations, do I? And I don't dream of ill health because, if it happens, it happens and worry won't help. So I'm not really much into reading health books, though I read two this month, one picked out at an airport bookstore (I do enjoy Oliver Sacks' books), and the other given to me. Perhaps the donor was trying to tell me something. Here are my reviews.
First is Oliver Sacks' Hallucinations--hence my ponderings above--a fascinating exploration of PTSD, old-fashioned hysteria, migraine aura, alien spacecraft, fairytale monsters and more. It's complexities might best be enjoyed with a complex 4-star cup of coffee. A fascinating read.
The other is The Patient's Resource and Almanac of Primary Care Medicine by Agnes Oblas. It's more of an occasional resource than a reading book, though it's occasional delvings into medical history do make interesting reads. The book includes much and leaves much out, leaving the reader to search websites for more data. Enjoy it's mild approach with a mild 1-star coffee and prepare to be oddly intrigued.
I dreamed tragic lovers torn apart by war. I dreamed the last surviving child, maimed and crying. I dreamed... and I wrote down my tales. The English teacher asked why. It's easy to make people cry, she said. Why not stretch myself and make them smile instead?
But I did have other dreams and other tales to tell. I wrote stories of heroes (women and teens of course) fighting evil, saving from disaster, and changing the course of history. I liked those dreams.
And sometimes I heard the monsters go bump in the night. I still hear them on occasion. Every once in a while they call my name, or a small girl (my children are all sons) cries out to me. Sometimes I see the spreading stain of a vivid puddle turn my vision sour, but it goes away. So does the migraine that follows. But I don't have hallucinations, do I? And I don't dream of ill health because, if it happens, it happens and worry won't help. So I'm not really much into reading health books, though I read two this month, one picked out at an airport bookstore (I do enjoy Oliver Sacks' books), and the other given to me. Perhaps the donor was trying to tell me something. Here are my reviews.
First is Oliver Sacks' Hallucinations--hence my ponderings above--a fascinating exploration of PTSD, old-fashioned hysteria, migraine aura, alien spacecraft, fairytale monsters and more. It's complexities might best be enjoyed with a complex 4-star cup of coffee. A fascinating read.
The other is The Patient's Resource and Almanac of Primary Care Medicine by Agnes Oblas. It's more of an occasional resource than a reading book, though it's occasional delvings into medical history do make interesting reads. The book includes much and leaves much out, leaving the reader to search websites for more data. Enjoy it's mild approach with a mild 1-star coffee and prepare to be oddly intrigued.
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