Twice this week, I dreamt of diarrhea. Really. In the first dream, people are ill and being quarantined. Only they are quarantined in a tent that I can see into - the sides are up. I wonder how this will protect me from their illness when I notice shit stains smeared on the ground that I have to take care to avoid stepping in. In the second dream, last night, I urgently have to go pee and come across bathrooms with long lines. I finally find a bathroom that isn’t in use and discover it’s because someone had diarrhea in the bathroom and missed the toilet. It was deep. My aunt, uncle and cousins were in the dream too and we’d learned my uncle had an affair. While putting things away at their home (in my dream), I’d discovered Christmas presents wrapped by my aunt to a child she’d lost long ago (whom I never met).
What the actual fuck is going on?! Dreams of diarrhea?! I google what this means this morning and learn this: Dreams about Diarrhea may be a sign from your Angels that you need to be more focused on your goals as you are being distracted by several things present in your life. You need to remove some things and some people from your life that stop you from achieving your aim.
Admittedly, there are a lot of balls in the air with work, writing a book and general Smith family madness (all will be revealed in due time).
Writing is going well - I’m learning a lot. Like the difference between an en and an em dash. Honestly, I recall hearing of neither until my developmental editor told me about them this week. I was also told to drop my second space after the period - a habit I’ve held onto since typing class in the 1990s. It’s hard to stop inserting this second, non-obscure punctuation. It’s a tough habit to break, as evidenced by this post. But - this time, I’m trying.
Andrea helped me land on a title tonight - I’ve emailed the book marketing guy I’m working with, George, and I hope he’s as excited as I am. George lives in Cape Town, South Africa. This means he has a really cool accent and he’s 6-hours ahead of me. Last week, I spoke with him at 1130 PM his time and he said he wasn’t feeling “fresh”. No kidding, pal.
When you’re sliding into first
And your pants begin to burst
That’s diarrhea, diarrhea
When you’re sliding into two
And your pants are filled with goo
That’s diarrhea, diarrhea
When you’re sliding into third
And you feel a greasy turd
That’s diarrhea, diarrhea
When you’re sliding into home
And your pants are filled with foam
That’s diarrhea, diarrhea
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