THE DREAM OF THE RABBIT TURTLES

Last night was all about turtles. I had one of those epic, switching location multiple times kind of dreams, where characters from early unexpectedly show up later in totally different scenarios. First I was at an English country home type place, and it was being over run by turtles. Big turtles, about the size and shape of a classic army helmet from World War Two. And these turtles were fast, like rabbits. Like the old story of the turtle and the hare had somehow resulted not only in the turtle winning, but the turtle and all its descendants were given the gift of speed. This may have something to do with me watching the limited series of Watership Down on Netflix right now. The turtles were running all over the place, getting into the house, digging up the garden, having the time of their lives. And nobody was really freaking out. Everyone at the house just watched them. It was almost like entertainment to them. Then it switched, and I was at this swanky hotel, like the Ritz in the 1920s kind of place. And there was this very long table, like fifty feet. Long and narrow. And covered with silver trays of food, candles, decorative flowers. And way down at the far end from where I was standing, this turtle was running towards me, knocking things over as he came, breaking crystal and stomping on food. And this harried, uptight waiter was giving chase, but failing miserably. It felt like a slapstick movie. Or like when Chef Louis chases Sebastian the crab in The Little Mermaid. And then I was at the house I grew up in in San Jose, California. There was this big truck, full of old things, sitting in the driveway. And a bunch of turtles had taken it over, and were living in it. And people were freaking out, angry, up in arms. The whole neighborhood. I was looking at it, thinking that it wasn't so bad, but a lot of people felt the need to come and vent their frustration at me. And then, from the top of the truck, which was about eight feet up, one of the turtles fell out, and there was this horrible cracking noise, and I knew it's shell had broken. And I felt sad.

It's not a world gone mad. It's a world that has been turned upside down, with turtles running faster than rabbits, and all the fancy things we aspire to getting upturned, and what people seem to get upset about the most is what other people have in their front yards. Which I supposed is understandable. We go through most of our lives thinking their is order, a way things are done, a plan of some type handed down from some mythic place which dictates how we live. How we work, play, what we aspire to. All of it. And right now, we are in flux. The goal posts of life haven't been moved, they've vanished. So some of us clamor for the posts to come back, exactly as they were. But I don't feel like that. I don't feel the anger that a lot of us seem to feel. And I don't feel the fear either. I feel... different. I don't know if I can pinpoint it beyond that. But I shall try.  I feel more like me than I have for a long time. I feel focused, clear in what is important to me. I feel more grateful when I see a friend of family member. I appreciate the time we have together. I realize how precious time is. I feel more in tune with nature. I look at trees and flowers and the rabbits that have made a bit of a come back in our neck of the woods. I tune out less often. And I am no longer connected to my cell phone. We take a walk for about an hour each day, and leave the phones at home. Some friends will still text, and get a bit upset if I don't answer immediately. Which I think has become part of most of our lives. Or at least our lives before the virus. But now, I treat a text they way  I treat getting a letter. It's something to read, think about, and answer when an answer is needed. Have you ever noticed how some texts are statements of opinion that don't really require an answer? Maybe I've become a turtle.

One thing I am not is bored. I don't understand how anyone can be. We are in the middle of a global pandemic. We are living in a time that will be spoken of for the rest of our lives. A lot of us have extra time, either from not commuting, or not working at all. There is so much to do. Cleaning house. Taking walks. Reading books. Watching movies we've been meaning to watch. Calling friends we haven't spoken to in ages. How on Earth can we be bored? And yet, plenty of folks are. And that is sad.

Well, it's a shockingly beautiful day. We have a walk to talk, gardening to do, chores to finish, and  who knows?

Here's a song. It's Pete Townsend singing Blue, Red, and Grey.