The plan was to get away afoot this morning to do some grocery shopping, but what sleep I achieved proved to be inadequate. I probably got to bed last evening around 9:30 p.m.; and upon finding myself stirring around 1:30 a.m., I soon enough decided to get up from bed.
My eldest stepson was still up; and in fact, he did not go to bed until possibly around 4:30 a.m.
But I was not feeling robust. I created a post in my private blog, but never got around to doing any work on the post I have in draft at one of my two hosted websites.
Around 5:15 a.m. I returned to bed with my cellphone alarm set for an hour later. I had dawdled too long overnight ─ I needed more time back in bed. When my alarm sounded, I turned it off and tried to resume sleeping.
I dreamed.
Of late in my private blog, I have been reproducing journal entries from the current month and day, but back in the year 1981 when I was a 31-year-old with no means whatsoever and essentially at the mercies of my younger brother and his cohabiting girlfriend Jean.
But my ailing alcoholic father had recently moved to the area from where he had been living in rent-subsidized or else just cheap suites in Vancouver, and I had more or less thrown in with him in the hopes that he would straighten out, for he had severe cardiovascular disease.
At that time he was 60 years old and only had a government pension income. It could have been adequate, even with me benefiting from it, if only he was able to refrain from embarking upon days-long drinking binges.
Alas, he could not do that. His own weakness conspired with the influences of other drinkers he knew who would easily lead him astray.
Unfortunately, he was not often a 'happy drunk'. And at this time, he had grown bellicose and belittling towards me, humiliating me as adeptly as he was able.
I should explain that I was a social cripple who ─ around the age of 19 ─ had been evaluated by a well-known psychiatrist who wanted me institutionalized.
Despite how that might sound, I was strongly geared toward healthy living and physical fitness, and one of the things the psychiatrist could not countenance about me was my refusal to take the medication that had been prescribed. I had tried one tablet of whatever it was, and had suffered symptoms such as severe 'dry mouth' and whatever else that I can now not recall anymore, that I was unwilling to cooperate.
My 'mental' illness was my extreme reclusivity that made social engagements too uncomfortable for me. I was so socially disinclined that it terrified me to have to be involved with the public in most capacities. I was especially unable to handle exposure to young women who were my peers. It was serious enough that I would not shop in a store if I saw that a young woman was the cashier; and if I was out walking along some back way and not just on city streets, and there were a couple of young ladies in the distance walking in my direction, I would go to pains to detour so that I would not have to be threatened with any proximity to them that might involve them directly looking at me ─ I was some category of scopophobe.
I was a deep romantic at heart, yet girls terrified me.
However, it was also inconceivable to me in my young adulthood to be able to seek and retain a job. I had no skills ─ I did not even drive; and I was quite afraid of machinery. I had never completed Grade 12, so it seemed my sole employment field would be of the sort referred to as unskilled labour. But that generally involved machinery and the noise machines in a production capacity generated, and it was all disturbing and far too unsettling.
And then there were the working men whom I had no identification with. I was quiet and retiring, and preferred to spend my time immersed into books and trying to learn when I was not off on long walks and otherwise adhering to my physical regimen of fitness.
I would have joined something like a monastery if only I could have done so and not needed to participate in their community. I just wanted to be left alone to study and to pursue physical development as best I understood it.
I was not stupid. I had been pitted with an I.Q. test and ─ although not a genius ─ I was well above average. I was not quoted my numerical score, but I was told the category. However, I did not understand those at the time, and I quickly forgot what it was. Maybe it was only something like 'high average' ─ there are of course different I.Q. tests, and I had no idea which one I had been subjected to.
The point I am making is that I was not lazy, wanting to be a ward of society and just vegetate and do as little as possible. Physical fitness was paramount to me ─ I would have developed the physique of a sensible bodybuilder if I only had the tools and diet. I loved hiking and even running.
If I could have gotten employment as a night watchman, or even a solitary night janitor, it would have been ideal for me. Unfortunately, though, since I did not drive, this dramatically marginalized my chances for any kind of tolerable employment at all. It would need to be close to hand, and not some out of the way location that would require me to take various connecting buses.
It was better that I work part-time so that I would have abundant free time for my studies and physical pursuits ─ those were more important to me than earning a very good living. I used to believe that if only I had an income of $200 a month, as long as I was free to live as I wanted and my time was my own, I would thrive.
That never happened. I was chronically unemployed. Social assistance for a Single and able-bodied man was not possible in any long term.
Anyway, back to my dream.
It seemed to relate to my situation in 1981 as I have been writing about in my private blog, except that I was my present age of 71, and nicely tanned and as nicely muscled as a much younger man. I don't clearly recall the details of the dream, but I had gone to visit my father in what must have been a rent-subsidized complex for seniors.
I had been exercising outdoors first, however, and seemed to have lost track of the sleeveless top I had been wearing. And so I was in the very large complex seeking my father's suite, which was apparently at a restricted level (the fifth floor) that may have possibly been shabbier than the other parts of that facility.
In the dream, the place was teeming with people coursing throughout it. I was easily drawing the attention of the older 'girls' there who were keenly responding to the visual I presented, none of them realizing that I was practically their own ages. There was even some girlish touching of my tanned musculature.
By hook and crook, I was eventually able to access my father's area, but he was not present, and I seemed to have already known he would not be there. Perhaps I was actually staying with him, but hadn't wanted anybody to realize it. Whatever the case, earlier when I was being confronted over my presence in the complex, I had allowed the identity of my father to be known, suspecting that his drunken and unruly reputation would most likely be familiar to some of the elderly staff or whomever it was that were trying to limit my movements.
The whole scenario was peculiar.
I think that I am possibly a little feverish. As I implied earlier, I am not feeling particularly hale. I will likely submit myself to 15 minutes of nebulized hydrogen peroxide later today.
One chronic problem I have is with my left ear. Early in 2019 I contracted what I am convinced was a bad case of flu. It succeeded in completely blocking that ear such that it was as if I had an earplug lodged securely into it.
I had read that sometimes a flu virus can cause a symptom like that. Yet I had the condition for a few months before I did more research and discovered that it can become permanent ─ medical attention is supposed to be sought after several days if there is no relief.
In attempting various remedies to unblock the ear that I found through YouTube videos, I engaged in one that required blocking the nostrils and just blowing to make the ear blockage 'pop'. What I did not understand was that this should not be attempted on any enduring basis because the technique can ─ will ─ rupture the eardrum.
I believe that I succeeded in doing that ─ albeit painlessly.
The ear did eventually largely clear of the blockage, but I attribute much of that relief to regular use of the plug-in nebulizer and the extended (15 minutes) inhalation of 3%-solution hydrogen peroxide. I even tried pouring some a few times into the ear itself, and then lying in bed such that the affected ear was topmost to retain the antimicrobial liquid as it fizzed and popped within my ear.
There is no pain associated with doing this, incidentally. However, in my case, after doing this for a number of minutes, I find that afterwards I am unable to have the hydrogen peroxide fully drain from the ear. And I am then left with the ear even more blocked for a few days than it had been, until at last the liquid evaporates and / or seeps away.
And so I do not like subjecting myself to that experience. Perhaps it is killing any pathogens and even disabling an infecting virus presence, but I enjoy unimpeded hearing.
Inhaling nebulized hydrogen peroxide can benefit the ear because of course the Eustachian tubes connect the ear with the nasal region. I cannot but believe that the hydrogen peroxide vapours are reaching into the Eustachian tubes and performing an extensive purification.
Okay, I've whittled away this cloudy day and gotten nothing accomplished.
One of the big stays was that I had wanted to both grocery-shop this long weekend, and also hit the liquor store. However, I came to realize that my chequing account does not have too much over $100 in it that I can access, so that meant I could only safely perform one of those tasks.
My monthly pension does not show up until late in the coming week.
And then my eldest stepson handed me a dozen cans of beer around 6 p.m. today as an enticement to complete his late income tax return for him, so that specific concern (beer) is fixed for now ─ there is only the grocery shopping of any concern.
Tomorrow is Victoria Day, so I can still manage to get that done. Maybe I will manage to sleep very well tonight, for I never did have an afternoon nap.
Oh, what a life!
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