“Well, when I walk outside naked, people throw garbage at me.”

It’s 3:39 AM.  My brain thinks it’s play time.  My cat agrees and has been doing wind sprints up and down the hallway.  I love how she chases imaginary mice with the same level of intensity a real rodent would demand.  She’s ten pounds of joy.

M. is asleep.  I enjoy asking him a question or two when he’s between worlds.  He always answers in a soft voice without opening his eyes.  If he could do stand-up comedy in this state, he’d be famous.  (For being funny, I mean.)

I do feel a tiny bit bad for treating him like a Magic 8 Ball.  (I figure if it bothers him, he’ll wake up and tell me off.)  I just asked him if he thinks I’m a little weird.  He said, “yes.”  No elaboration.  I had to walk away to prevent waking him from giggling.

I’m half convinced we’re incapable of lying while asleep.  I think it’s why we have nightmares, sometimes.  Like we’re disconnected from the part of our brain that can reason beyond instinct.  The world is a terrifying place when you take everything at face value.

When we’re awake, we can reason with ourselves.  It’s almost like lying to ourselves by reframing the story in a more tolerable manner.  While still afraid of the same things, we can cope when awake if we approach from a strategic angle.  When asleep, this level of sophistication doesn’t exist.  At least not for me.

It frustrates the crap out of me.  I try to think of it as my inner five-year-old being the Nightmare Slayer.  She’s badass, but she’s five.  She’s always going to scream when startled, cry when afraid, and panic when in danger because she’s new.  It’s a lot easier to forgive a five-year-old (for basically anything.)


The longer I study Stevie Nicks, the more I learn things about coping with life in general.  I feel a wee bit guilty because I began this quest for knowledge about Fleetwood Mac.  I’ve practically ignored the rest of the band because I’m so blown away by Stevie Nicks.  I mean, I didn’t miss how amazing Christine McVeigh is, but I haven’t studied her career yet.

I think Stevie Nicks reaches me because we both navigate by intuition. It’s probably why she initially pinged on my autism-dar.  Heh.  I recognized something familiar, but it took me a bit to nail it.  Of course, she’s the Queen of Rock who also happens to be a ballerina dancing, poetry writing, quick-witted, soulful, hilarious, stronger-than-her-size-belies, beautiful, loving human.  Of course, I’m listening.

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