"I envy paranoids; they actually feel people are paying attention to them."*

   I’ve discovered a new way to get attention: wrap a bandage around your hand.

   I burned myself somehow the other day in that really inconvenient spot: the top of the knuckle of my first finger on my right hand. So everything I did (getting something out of my purse, folding laundry, washing my hands) made the mystery wound open back up. So I put on a band-aid and the band-aid kept getting wet or falling off randomly, so I wrapped my hand in bandage tape.

More intense than it looks?

   I really didn’t do it to get attention, but everywhere I go—even the gas station—people ask me what happened to my hand. And I have to say I’m loving it. Of course the injury has escalated in severity from “mystery burn” to “savage knife-fight wound,” but what stranger is going to know if I’m lying?

   In other news, I have another dream to share, even though I’ve insisted on numerous occasions that I hate sharing dreams. Maybe what I really hate is listening to other people’s dreams. So this is different because it’s my dream and therefore I am highly entertained by it. And you can skip this part if you want.

   In my dream, Em and I were bridesmaids at Gabe’s wedding. And we were at the rehearsal and her whole family made a conga line to go down the aisle. I remember feeling like that was really embarrassing, but that’s how Gabe wanted it, so that’s how it was going to be.

   But then the back of her dress split open and we had to fix it before the wedding later that night, which for some odd reason was set to begin at 10 p.m. She entrusted Em and I to go to the fabric store to get thread and fix it, but she kept saying, “I’m serious, you guys. You can’t smoke in the car with my dress in it.” Like we were 16 again. Ah, memories.

   But in the car I said to E, “I don’t think Gabe really wants me to be her bridesmaid.”

   And E said, “No, she doesn’t. But you complained about it so much that she decided to let you so you’d shut up. She’s really mad at you because you keep mailing pine cones to people.”

   Hmmm….what possible symbolism could pine cones have? And why would I mail them to anyone? Let alone repeatedly mail pine cones to many people as the dream implies?

From my forthcoming Pine Cone Series.

You will be happy to know that I did some pine cone research and came up with a few shocking/highly gratifying interpretations:

1.  Pine cones in a dream can symbolize wealth and good fortune. (I find this one suspect, as I think most things in dream dictionaries signify wealth and good fortune. On the other hand, if I was sending the pine cones to other people, it signifies how good I am at making money disappear.)

2.  They can also represent life and fertility. (Which has horrifying implications always.)

3.  According to a website which sells “Third Eye Pinecones” (I’m serious), the pine cone has for ages represented the human enlightenment. This website goes on to suggest that the term “pine cone” gets its name from the “pineal gland” of the brain, which is responsible for our perception of light. Hmmm…I always thought it got its name from the coniferous Pine Tree. But this is still my favorite interpretation for various (and obvious) reasons. So this is what I’m going with.

Pine cone with third eye. Pine cone series. Forthcoming. (Does anyone else think this looks like a California Raisin?)

   Anyway, this post is asinine and random, but I don’t really care too much. I may fix it later, but that seems doubtful.

*Susan Sontag.