Dreamtime

Because I am on progesterone in oil injections and 400mg vaginal progesterone suppositories a day, I feel like I am awash in progesterone. I feel like I must have it oozing out of my pores (but watch when my blood level comes back as crappy as always at my test). And as any infertile who has been through medical assistance knows, progesterone makes you tired. And a double dose of progesterone makes you damn tired.

So I have basically turned into a teenager, napping all day. Except without the staying up all night and doing interesting stuff part of it. OK, so maybe we just say that I've now developed narcolepsy. Or some other sleeping sickness. I mean, I was always good at napping, but I had my limits. Now I basically wake up for food, stay up for an hour or so to check the internet and read a little, and then it's back to napping. At least that's the plan for the weekend.

And the thing with napping is that it's light sleep, so I am in dreamtime a lot. Apart from the sex dreams (ahem, well, just when you are banned from all things "down there" is precisely when your brain decides that it's a fundamentally necessary part of life), anyway, where was I? Yes, apart from the sex dreams, for some reason I keep dreaming of this one damn building from my home town. It's pretty annoying. But I always was fascinated by this building, so I suppose it's only natural that it crops up a lot in my dreams. And it does, repeatedly, just not usually dream after dream after dream in quick succession. You see, I lived in a "dormitory town" for London when growing up. There was a little business center downtown and we had our own "skyscraper" that housed an insurance company (don't be imagining anything more than 12 or so stories here, by the way), but pretty much everyone commuted. Except right near where our house was there was this little parade of shops (I guess the yanks among you would say a strip mall, but they had apartments above them and weren't exactly the same as what I think of as a strip mall). At one end of the shops was a pub, and at the other end was a gas station and an office block. Yes, an office block. About 8 stories high maybe. With a Spar convenience store at the bottom of it. But the office entrance had this enormous copper sign with a huuuge female symbol on it. You know, the circle with the cross underneath. I mean, it was a good 7-8 feet high, and was at ground level so you couldn't miss it. I used to walk past this building every day on the way to school and wonder why they were so pro-women. Until I found out that it was the headquarters of the copper marketing board or something, and the female symbol was also the symbol for copper. But the thing that used to get me the most was why the fuck anyone would willingly put their offices in a suburban backwater part of a suburban backwater dormitory town, when there was so so many other and better places to have an office. I used to wonder constantly what types of businesses were in there - I figured they all had to be reaaally cheap to not want to pay the rent on any better location. I used to try to make out people in the windows and see what they were doing, see how drab the offices looked behind them. I wondered if they had to shop at the Spar every day for their sandwiches, which would have been pretty bad news, or if they ventured to the not-very-savory pub for a pub lunch. Mostly I used to pity them, because of course I would never ever be caught dead doing an office job. Uh, yeah, that ambition worked out well.

Anyway, so that's where I'm spending my time these days. At the office building with the gas station in front of it, and the Spar to the right of it. With the copper entrance way. In fact, in some of my dreams, I'm opening a business there and remarking on how cheap the rent is. And then running home at lunchtime to the house I grew up in, so I don't have to eat Spar pre-packed sandwiches.