dream thoughts

El Cid

2008-12-07T21:01:00.004-06:00

I had a strange dream last night. It was Christmas break and I returned home to Colorado to spend the holidays with my parents. Last Christmas, we gave my parents a puppy since our family dog passed away a few years before. In my dream, there were two little puppies at our house and I remember just playing with the two of them and not our real dog, El Cid, who was their gift last year.

After spending all my time with the puppies, I turned to my dad and told him I hadn't even seen Cid yet. Usually Cid is the first member of the family I greet when I go home. My dad told me that he had to keep him outside by his studio (he is an artist) because of the puppies, but that we could go see him. We walked out to his studio, my dad took the puppy I was holding and he opened the studio door.

There was Cid, but he was very old and surprisingly not extremely excited to see me. He was wearing a funny looking dog coat and had longer hair around his face. If you need to visualize this, Cid looked a bit like Scrooge. Unhappy, lonely and dilapidated. Cid (real life Cid) has short hair and is the most goofy and excited dog I have ever met.

This is another one of my short dreams, but it made me sad. I suppose I dreamt this because my own subconscious was telling me (not like I didn't already know) that I am lonely. Cid, I know is not at all lonely. I, on the other hand, spend the majority of time trying to appreciate the abundance of solitude I have, but do wish I could share my time and thoughts with someone else. I have two roommates, but feel like I live alone.

I'm not writing this in search of pity, but just as a way to understand my dream. Only two weeks until I get to see crazy Cid and my even crazier family. I cannot wait.

Good Deeds

2008-12-02T14:35:00.002-06:00

You know, it's not very often we get to hear positive news. Usually the breaking headlines are of tragedy and loss, leaving the good acts of people unheard.

Over the Thanksgiving break, I sat down to watch a little CNN and was completely taken aback by their 2008 CNN Heroes. Basically, it was an awards ceremony honoring normal, everyday people who positively impacted the lives of others through service.

Unfortunately, I only caught the end of the show, but was still so happy to see such a major network honoring good services of others. The only story I was able to hear was one about a female runner. As I understood, her father suffered from addiction and as a result, this young lady got into running. She liked the forward movement and feeling that she was always going somewhere. After running by several homeless people in the heart of Philadelphia each morning and always looking behind at them, she decided one morning to stop at the homeless shelter.

When she stopped to talk with these people, she discovered many of them suffer from addiction, job loss and lack of motivation. She knew these people still had hope to lead fulfilling lives and through her visits, proved it to be true.

Without being asked to help these people she had never met, let alone stop to talk to them, she single handedly got them up off their feet and starting a running group with them. Every morning, she continues to run, but now she has an army of motivated runners behind her who were able to turn their lives around.

I really hope I'm able to catch the full show soon and learn about the other people who were deservingly awarded. It was a breath of fresh air to watch this and I hope others who caught this feel the same way. One woman, whom I don't want to quote from my hazy memory, but she said something along the lines of service being the rent you pay for living. Isn't that great?

Nightmare

2008-11-30T19:42:00.005-06:00

Not all dreams are meant to come true. Or at least I hope that is true. I hope all our fairy tale, love dreams make some sort of appearance in our real lives, but the occasional nightmare can stay permanently strapped in the backseat.

Last weekend, I had one of dreams that are horribly vivid. It didn't surface in my memory until later in the day, but as soon as I remembered it, I felt uneasy.

I dreamt that my brother died. Blunt, but that's what happened. I got a phone call from his beautiful new wife (that's real life) that they had just gotten in a car accident. Evan was driving on the highway and someone broadsided the driver's front side and another car broadsided the passenger's back side. His wife lived, but Evan didn't.

This was one of those short, random dreams. All I can remember from the rest of it was that I woke up in a panicking cry. Iet really made me think, what if that actually happened? What would I do? I know what I would do: I'd completely lose it. Evan is one of my very best friends. He and my sister have gone through so much in our family. They are two of maybe four people who really understand me. They don't just listen to me, they experience my thoughts, felt my pains and celebrated in victories.

Although Evan is newly married, in medical school and living too far to see for a weekend visit, he still remains one of the most influential people in my life. I can cry to him about boys, yell about roommates, get the best advice about anything under the sun and laugh with him harder than anyone else. He wakes me from my funks and reminds me that shit gets shitty, but that's life. What does Evan tell me when my heart is breaking? He says, "Katlin, get over it. Date someone else." Harsh? Nah, well, maybe at first, but he's right. Whether I like it or not, he's always right. Note: I might regret writing this later....

He has taught me not to dwell on the unnecessary. Sometimes, no matter how hard it is, you just have to pick yourself up and move on. No one will do it for you. It's up to you how you want to live your life.

Poachers Unite

2008-11-22T13:15:00.009-06:00

The biggest problem I've had in the last four years has been my location. This is the second Saturday at work where I've spent hours not studying, but rather watching snowboarding videos. Let me set this straight: I love the sport, but am embarrassingly bad. I didn't want anyone to think that me being from ColoRADo + watching snowboarding videos at work = a good snowboarder.

With Thanksgiving break quickly approaching, I am becoming far more jealous of friends going home to shred than I thought I would be. As of right now, I'd undoubtably give my left boob to go snowboarding. Riding the lift up the mountain, talking with my brother and sister, then cruising back down the mountain while trying my hardest to float effortlessly atop the white powder is something I think about all the time. I miss the pristine peaks, the mellow moods and the group of people simply enjoying the outside.

Case in point: What made me write this blog was a poaching video I watched from Burton. Poaching is where snowboarders go to ski only resorts and lay down the law. There are a few skiers only mountains around, but many are slowly making the change to accepting snowboarding. Why this rule has existed for resorts to only allow skiers, I do not know. In my opinion, it's a bunch of old yuppies set in their ways of the world revolving around their gas guzzling SUVs, corporate meetings and golf schedules. Really, it's no different from racism or sexism. I know a few people who have courageously taken their snowboards to some of these mountains, but after the ban broke of only allowing skiers. Although they were allowed to ride the mountain, they still were treated like unwelcome guests. Skiers would throw things at the boarders and these so called veterans to the mountains would even spit on the people snowboarding. They [skiers] think we [snowboarders] are a joke and they are the classy ones.... Think again.

We should all be able to ride whatever want down the mountain. Two skis, two poles vs. one board. Who cares?

OBAMAHA

2008-11-10T21:17:00.005-06:00

One of the biggest presidential elections has come and gone, and I am so happy to say that Barack Obama will have the seat in The Oval Office, come January. I will remember November 4, 2008 for the rest of my life. It was so emotional, exciting and inspiring.

The day after Obama was elected, I walked into the office where I work and smiled to see a portrait of Obama as the desktop background on the computer. A few days later, the picture had changed to Obama running in the ocean (probably during his family vacation in Hawaii). As I smiled at the new background, I turned to the two boys standing in the office and asked them how they felt about the outcome of the election. Both boys, whom I love, seem quite conservative with their views.

Assuming they voted for McCain, I braced myself for a rough answer. They both looked at me, then at each other with puzzled reactions. One at time, they told me they voted for Obama.

These were two people I never really brought up the subject of politics with, but found it so beautiful and surprising that they voted liberally. I feel like a grandma, getting so happy and teary eyed over this whole thing, but it's something I am passionate about and feel so strongly and positively about. Yes we can.

Election

2008-11-04T18:42:00.000-06:00

Alex

Miss you

9:04pm

Katlin

miss you, too. tomorrow our lives change....

9:05pm

Alex

I know

I am an intern for the Obama campaign in Bozeman

We knocked over 10,000 doors in our county alone

On Sunday alone

9:06pm

Katlin

that is amazing. i can only imagine how much hard, passionate work you've put into that.

jesus.

you deserve a pat on the back

9:07pm

Alex

Hugs are great too

9:08pm

Katlin

even better. i send mine your way. squeeeezeeeee. i've been wearing so many obama/proud democrat shirts, i think i might be smelling funny. hahaha.

9:09pm

Alex

That's my Katlin

9:13pm

Katlin

hannah, my sister (age 17) wore an obama shirt to church with my dad and someone actually came up to her and said it was inappropriate to wear that there and that she didn't deserve to get communion. she laughed, as did my dad, then the guy told her that he was serious, etc. my dad gave him the stink eye and said it's her right and opinion and to leave her alone. shit, she's not even old enough to vote. my dad wished he had just gone ahead and punched the asshole. obama supporters are serious.

9:13pm

Alex

It's true

This election isn't a joke

I am trying to think of something witty and funny, but I am drawing a blank

9:14pm

Katlin

not in the slightest. i actually talked to my ballot as i drove it to the post office (i even kissed it).

9:15pm

Alex

Have I told you you're amazing and wonderful lately?

Because you are.

9:15pm

Katlin

haha thank you, but not even a fourth of what you hold.

9:16pm

Alex

What do you mean hold?

9:16pm

Katlin

all the amazement. drive, determination, actual thought and care.

9:18pm

Alex

I will accept the compliment, but contest the fractional measurement

9:19pm

Katlin

and that was me being generous to myself. thank you, alex, for doing this. you are making the most positive impact on the world. thank you.

9:27pm

Alex

Of course. Well, all of us are making impact. Every person who casts a vote for Obama is....

Don't look back in anger....

2008-10-28T14:28:00.005-05:00

Whooo. It has definitely been awhile since I've published anything. I just got back from Fall Break and in all honesty, it's a total drag.

I hate leaving Colorado. It's not only home, but it's where everything remains that has ever meant anything to me. People, my dog, mountains, fresh air, blue skies. The list goes on. It's a place where I feel comfortable, something that I have never felt here. Omaha has its perks, but nothing that will ever keep me here, let alone come back.

My decision to come here still weighs heavily in my mind on an almost daily basis. I made that choice. I learned a lot. Sometimes more than I ever wanted to know about myself and other people who are my so-called friends. Of course, I have met some incredible people. Those I can count on one hand, but cannot confidentially say we'll keep in touch. We are all just very different people going in very different directions. Nothing is wrong with that, but I do wish I had someone close who I could go to about anything and everything. It has, whether good or bad, given me ample opportunity to experience solitude. I've wiped my own tears, bandaged my own knees and edited my own papers.

As I drove east, keeping a steady eye on the rearview mirror and slowly watching the mountains fade away, my only comfort came in knowing it was the last Fall Break and that last October that I had to leave everything behind.

I am in no way homesick. I've spent plenty of time from a young age away from home and my family, but after four years contemplating this mess, I think it's just that I'm simply unhappy here. Getting the Creighton stamp at graduation will hopefully have been worthwhile, but if I were to go back and do it again... Well, this story would be completely different.

No matter the argument, I have always believed it takes two to tango. I am in part at fault. This is something I know. It's safe to say that I was never ready to come to college when I did. My family was in the middle of, what I hope, are my life's biggest obstacles. My mind always drifted to Colorado, wondering what was happening, wondering what I could do with the 600 mile difference.

My college experience has been completely different from what I could ever have expected. My classes, my relationships, everything. Now, this is my blog, so don't criticize. I'm just telling it like it is. I have worn myself out again and again trying to change my experience, my attitude and myself, but now, it is just time to move on. I won't look back in anger, but I will gladly turn the page.

Jet It

2008-09-24T16:50:00.003-05:00

Every time I pack a bag, I wonder if I'll come back. Sometimes I really don't know.

Last night I heard about something I have to do. I'm going to Thailand. Help the people. Help the elephants. Help myself.

More to come on this, but I'm going. I have to get out of here.

Goldfish

2008-09-23T14:41:00.010-05:00

I just learned something. Goldfish are a symbol of fertility. This I did not know. I love fish, but I hate kids. Wait, I don't hate kids at all. I just hate the thought of having my own. Gross.

We all have a friend who we want to be more like. That friend for me is Alison. God, she is so cool. Not just cool, but like you-don't-understand-really-cool. She's my oldest friend (we date back to preschool). Alison and I have always been the best and worst match. When we come together, it's like a force to be reckoned with. Total trouble.

Well, Alison came to Omaha for a weekend with her roommate Alli (who I absolutely adore) and it was epic. If you know me, you know the story. If not, sorry.

Back to the point, Alison had a weird feeling for a while that she was pregnant. She told her boyfriend, felt a little better, but still completely uneasy. After all, college doesn't really agree with parenthood. During all of this, Alison was having dreams about goldfish. She's kind of like a dog because all her dreams are in black and white. This time, it was only the fish that were in color. Bright orange. As she was feeling beside herself, someone dropped by her house for a visit. It was her neighbor, younger than us, with problems of her own. She said something along the lines of goldfish and her sister being pregnant. It was enough to scare Alison. Right then, Alison was sure for the worse.

The girl told her about the connection to goldfish and pregnancy and Alison went to the library to research both, and sure enough, it was true. In the end, Alison was not pregnant, but the dreams were too weird for her not to constantly think about.

I think I'd rather have a dog than a fish.

Clean Lines

2008-09-22T19:31:00.003-05:00

My dream from this weekend was short, but interesting. I can't quite remember all of it, but I can recover the important parts.

I was at my house with my entire family home, only it wasn't the house that I call home. All I can remember is the simplicity behind everything. White walls, white floors, very clean. It was all very minimal and the decorations were either white, gold, or silver.

There were tons of different light fixtures, again, all white and in every shape imaginable. They were all modern and made of that lightweight paper material that is so popular. There were tables, transparent and made of glass with lights under them. The weird thing about the tables was that they weren't level. Impossible for a table, right? I think so. On shelves lining the walls were various, useless decorative objects. There were huge jacks (just like the game) made of gold and several different empty looking vases and balls.

As my family was inside with me, my best friend, Maddie, was packing her suitcase to leave. I guess she was visiting me (even though we grew up in the same city). Her suitcase was on my clean, white and perfectly made bed. As Maddie left to get in my dad's car, I told her I'd come out and say goodbye before they drove away. Right when she went outside to get in the car, my granddad appeared in the room.

His presence surprised me. He's from New Mexico and a very healthy 93 year old. We began talking (I don't think about anything serious) and then he asked me to dance with him. There must have been slow-paced music playing in the background as we circled around the white floor. As my eyes peered over his shoulder, I looked out the window and could see the car my dad and Maddie were in, waiting for me. I couldn't leave, though. I couldn't stop dancing with my granddad. I couldn't let go. I saw the two drive away and just stayed with my arms wrapped around my granddad, and his around me.

I feel like this might say something about the strength of our friendship. Although it doesn't seem too positive, I do think it was good that I stayed where I was really needed. It was where I really wanted to be.

I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning

2008-09-17T00:00:00.018-05:00

I haven't blogged in a decent amount of time. I've felt like there's so much to say, but it's just too hard to explain. While I do have dreams to speak, the only thing I can think about is something I wish I wasn't.

There was a time, quite recently, when I was in love.

I might still be, but sometimes I don't know. Can distance carry a heart? Can time? I have sat here, in my room, so many nights trying to blink wide enough to escape the tears. I hate this. Cry

ing is not a part of who I am, but since I moved to Omaha four years ago, I've noticed more rain than sun.

When I came here, I wasn't ready. I needed more time at home, with my family, with my friends, with the mountains. My heart rests 800 miles away, through a winding mountain pass. At least I think that's where it is.

Love is a funny thing. Before this summer, I was a skeptic. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to believe, but never really had a reason to. My friend gave the term [love] a great definition while we were in high school. Love is habitual lust. Think about it. It hits the nail right on the head.

Sure lust is a form of love, (eros) but can we find something that goes beyond that? I thought I did. I still think I do. Hindsight, though, is 20/20. I may have done too much. Loved a little too hard. I get mad when I think of how much I gave and even more so when I think about how much more I would have given and would still probably give.

With such a great distance dividing two hearts, two souls, (and despite what my brother says) love cannot be defined and explained through phone calls and typed messages. Unfortunately, I'm always hoping for more of these, but know otherwise. I just hope that someday the 800 miles will shrink into eight inches. Eight inches that will separate our heads as they rest on a pillow. I may be wrong. I could meet someone here... yeah, right. This is not the place for that. Too bad.

I overheard a conversation in class during the first week of school. A girl had just met someone over the summer (two years her junior, over 1,000 miles apart and now her boyfriend). Her friend sitting next to her reaffirmed that and asked if she was doing the long distance thing. Her reply was, "Yeah, we're going to try it. It's only been a few weeks, but so far so good. I just know I'm not going to meet anyone here." My only thought: fuck.

How can college be the loneliest time for me? It's easy to get lost in a sea of popped collars, conservative judgements and mommy and daddy lawyers and doctors. Now, don't judge me. This is my blog.

I could say so much more, but I will spare you my petty problems. On another note, a more musical note, you should know that my thoughts tend to be like records. Broken and at times repeating. I go through songs constantly, looping them until I've found its replacement. Music has been a huge part of my life, like art. Not necessarily all the "hot up and coming" bullshit people get caught up in, but everything. I love and appreciate anything. I spent a significant amount of my childhood in a professional singing group and playing the cello. I toured Europe and all over the United States. Sometimes what is on my brain's repeat often surprises me. Right now, as I write, it is Sparks by Coldplay. I've honestly never really liked Coldplay or even listened to them, but right here as I am feeling all of this, it's perfect.

Did I drive you away?

On the Ground

2008-09-05T10:04:00.002-05:00

I knew this would happen. I finally had a dream last night, but it was weird. Story of my life. Some dreams I have are so weird that I don't even tell people. People shouldn't judge you by your dreams, but everyone judges everything. Whatever. This is my blog. I'll write what I want.

My alarm went off at 7 a.m. and I wasn't (as usual) ready to start my day. I fell asleep again, not making another move until 8:55. Good thing I rolled over a

nd ignored the clock because it was in this hour and 55 minutes that I got what I needed.

Like always, my memory is hazy. I was sitting outside with a friend where we found comfort from the side of a brick building where we le

aned against it for stability. We were at, what seemed like, a drive-in movie theatre. There weren't really any cars, though, but instead, people walking around in front of us. The constant, busy flow of destination-oriented people was almost overwhelming. With the amount of people, it's safe to say that it would have been impossible for them not to notice what was going on right next to me.

As my friend and I leaned against the coarse brick, I turned my head to the right and there was my cousin. She wasn't leaning against the same wall. She was lying on the concrete ground, in the most vulnerable state for a human. She was completely naked. No question about it. Most of the people walking past didn't e

ven notice this. What was going on?

As the reel of film continued to roll, my concentration was broken by every group of people buzzing past. For some reason, (although I knew what was happening) the state of my cousin didn't faze me. Sure I cared, but I wasn't embarrassed or surprised. More than anything, I felt a duty within myself that I needed to protect her. It was like I knew I couldn't control her lack of clothing, but I could control the people walking by who would take second glances.

My friend who sat next to me through all of this, is a story in itself. I can't name who that one friend was because every time I looked over, they were a new person. They changed from one face to another, but only the faces of a few people who I really care about and love. Perhaps they are the only ones who feel the same in return.

Most of you reading this may think I'm just weird for coming up with this. Really, though, I see a lot of meaning behind a dream most people would just shrug and turn away from. My cousin, who goes under the knife this week, was completely herself in my dream. It was like, as I see it, she has nothing to hide. We all know what's happening, this cancer is life-changing and she is back to where she started- with nothing. No clothing, no wall for support; just herself. No one, including my cousin, is in control of this. What happens, happens and we will take it from there.

High As A Wall

2008-09-05T00:52:00.003-05:00

Since I have had the unfortunate side effect of not dreaming, I have been asking friends about their own dreamt up imaginations.

My good friend (I'll call him HERB) has Aladdin-like renditions when he hits the hay. As we sat around his living room the other night exchanging stories, I brought up this blog.

We got into talking about flying dreams. The last time I remember having one of these exhilarating dreams was when I was quite young. From the tiny bit of research I have done on dreams, flng dreams mean that you have accomplished something. Does that say a lot about where I am right now? Shit.

Anywho, HERB was telling me that he dreams about regular situations, like the one we were currently in at the moment. He will be standing around a group of people, talking, minding his own business, then he'll sit (or what seems) in Indian style, with his legs crossed, but the catch is that he is not actually sitting. Instead of his body lowering itself to his legs and resting on the ground, his legs will raise themselves to his chest. As he floats at the same height he was standing, he'll lean forward and carry himself in the direction he wants to move.

Is this considered a flying dream? Definitely. HERB is floating, flying high. Apparently he has done something right.

Over and Out

2008-09-05T00:49:00.000-05:00

Love sucks. Love hurts. Love will tear us apart.

Love Life

2008-08-31T15:21:00.000-05:00

Although I walk upright on two feet, I am a fish of sorts. My mind flips through images and ideas at a high-speed fast forward pace. As I rest my head every night, my mind continues in thoughts, but in an uncontrolled manner. These are my dreams.

Recently, I haven’t felt too inspired by anything. Unfortunately my subconscious has been aboard the same boat, leaving me blank in the morning. I am all about analyzing my dreams to uncover their hidden truths, but I guess it is time to temporarily put a stop to that.

They seem to be lost in my skulled library, waiting to be pulled and dusted. Sometimes they are so real and vivid, I have trouble distinguishing between the dream itself and reality. Where does the line need to be drawn? In many cases, I feel a line is unnecessary, as long as you interpret your dreams into ambitions, hopes and aspirations for yourself. Dreams are what keep me going. They are my source for ideas and happiness, but I admit to frequently fall into the negative category of thinking too much.

Until last night, I had nothing to say. While I was in bed slowly feeling the heavy blanket of sadness and longing beginning to cover my body, my phone rang. It was just who I needed- my incredible cousin, Erin.

While I have two siblings of my own, Erin is more of a sister than a cousin. I could effortlessly write a million entries about her and how I have looked up her my entire life, but instead I will explain why she is the reason for getting this ball rolling.

This summer, Erin was diagnosed with cervical cancer. It took Erin and our family by shock, leaving notepads filled with questions. As a theme in any Irish family, we knew everything would work out. Why? Because it has to.

She was scheduled for surgery to remove part of her cervix via a cone biopsy, but quickly learned that they didn’t get it all and a second surgery was looming like another dark cloud.

Only this time, much more is at stake. September 11 is the date. As Erin will drift into an anesthesia induced dream state, the outcome will be unknown. She will have one of two procedures performed: a trachelectomy, where they cervix is removed, but the uterus is spared to preserve fertility, or a full hysterectomy.

She is 24 years old, healthy as can be, more beautiful than should be allowed with a spitfire personality and drive to master anything. This news came the day after she moved into an apartment in NYC with her wonderfully supportive boyfriend, Jeff, and little diva kitty, Swo.

Erin is an editor for a magazine and hasn’t missed a day since she was hit with this news. The awful realities of insurance and unsympathetic ears have hurt, but Erin is proactive and absolutely not willing to forfeit this fight.

With September only a day away, the thoughts pile higher and the dreams don’t stop. Erin has been dreaming about the surgery every night. She was telling me that they [her dreams] are so real and frightening; they wake her up in a state of panic. This is totally normal and expected, but do they mean something? Are they a way for us to send messages to ourselves? I believe so. Her dreams were about the hospital, fears and the unknown. If this were just going to be a standard knee surgery, with six weeks of rehab, then I know she would feel a little more at ease. This is not the case. She doesn’t know what lies ahead. If the only option they find that will clear her body of cancer to be a hysterectomy, then Erin’s lifelong dream of having children of her own will no longer be a possibility.

As I listened to Erin and her uncomfortably real dreams and concerns for the future, I was left grateful, but more than anything, hopeful.

It’s rather funny how things like this happen to such genuinely good people. I think it is because they are the only ones who can handle it and who will come out on top. It is their strength that many of us lack, but ought to strive to find. Erin is a girl of the mountains (we are from Colorado) and now a New Yorker. Living life in the city that never sleeps is tiring, but inspiring. Life isn’t a ray of sunshine, with cervical cancer as Erin’s only grey cloud. Her uncle was undergoing treatment for throat and neck cancer during all of this, her grandmother passed away and one month before Erin graduated from college, she lost her father, my Uncle Greg.

It has been two years since he slipped away, but every single day he is part of our thoughts and dreams. He was the “cool” uncle, the one I could talk to about boys and would always have the best advice that never failed. Luckily I have an amazing dad of my own, where words cannot describe his undeniable love and unique perspective on life, but the absence of Greg still feels like I lost a father figure.

I guarantee I will write entries about him, but now I cannot. I feared more than anything when he died that we would lose touch with his kids (Erin and Eric) because of divorce, but Erin and I would not let that happen. If anything, his death has forced us to come together and fill his large void with love and laughter. I just returned to school from visiting Erin, Jeff and Swo in New York and found proof that love and family and time heals all.

Links: http://www.webmd.com/cancer/tc/cervical-cancer-topic-overview

There is no excuse. Every single girl needs this: http://www.gardasil.com/