I have a whole thing written up about the chickens, introducing each one by name and breed. Except we have one that is still waiting for a name. The Cabbage gets to name that one. We have her with us for dinner this evening, so hopefully No Name will get a name tonight. Today is the last day of March and just like February, it has passed by in a blink. I was relieved to have February pass by so quickly. The passing by of March has left me with a spinning feeling like I was just spun out of a revolving door too fast. April you say? It's April? I'm not sad that March is over so quickly as much as I am shocked by it. March has been an odd month. Warm then cold then warm then cold. Today is warm. March has been flip-floppy and a month of vivid bizarre dreams.
One night I woke screaming because I had been dreaming that I had caught a rat. I was holding it just behind the head with one hand and the tail with the other. I was screaming for Michael to help me. He couldn't hear me and just sat on the couch eating popcorn. Meanwhile the rat was whipping it's head all around trying to bite me and I was screaming bloody murder. And that's how I woke up. Then there was the night I dreamed that Josephine figured out how to undo the latches on her crate. She got out and took a human sized dump on the rug and then tore up a bunch of random things. I spent all this time cleaning up after her that when I woke up I fully expected to see a human size turd on my bedroom rug.
Then, just last night, there was a dream that started out in a yoga class. I was on my mat doing my thing when I noticed this tiny coral colored scorpion heading right for my yoga mat. I spent the class trying to keep the scorpion away while doing yoga at the same time and I was so scared. I knew for sure that the scorpion was poisonous. When I got home from class, Chris was there. It was like he'd gone out to run an errand and came back and was all "hey, I'm back." I was confused and I remember saying something like "hey, that's great, but I'm with someone else now." Chris made a face and told me that maybe I needed to go lie down for a bit. I didn't wake screaming from this one, nor did I wake crying. I just woke up with almost crippling back pain.
I'm so tired of those dreams where I feel like I have to justify this new life of mine. I can't understand why I'm never telling Chris to go fuck off. I did not leave. I was not the one that got sick and died. Sure it wasn't his choice, but he sure as hell didn't beat around the bush about it. As soon as he heard the doctors say "terminal" he got the ball rolling on passing on from this world. For the first time in Chris's life he did not procrastinate. I don't see why I'm the one left behind having to explain myself or why explaining myself is even remotely necessary in this situation. But my dreams do. My dreams feel the need to remind me of true fear, exhaustion and confusion. "Hey, your life is good now, but just remember. Remember what it's like to be so fucking scared and confused and exhausted, because all of that could happen again."
All of that is true, but I'm certainly not waiting around and looking for any of that to happen again. You know what I'm going to do instead? I'm going to finish painting this chicken coop Michael built for me (us). Then I'm going to cuddle with the chicks and sing them some lullabies. I'm going to scratch Josephine's belly and then have a make-out session with Michael on the couch. And those March Madness dreams can march their way on out of here.