Dreaming...

I just read a book about a woman who believed so strongly in the messages of dreams that while other families were discussing the events of their day at the dinner table, her family discussed their dreams.  I've tried in the past to write down my dreams, not only in hopes of some mystical message from beyond, but also in an attempt to get story ideas.  But most of the time I have not a clue what my dreams mean.  The dream I just woke up from, however, was so clear as to be considered cliche.

I was on vacation, walking through a gift shop in some old stone building, when I spotted an older man outside- a friend from the writing conference I attended last May (for real).  In this dream, like most of my dreams, the people don't have faces.  That sounds creepy, but it's not.  They have human forms, but that's not really what I see.  In my dreams I sense people more than see them.  This person looked nothing like anyone I really know and I associated no name with him.  But he gave off the feeling that he was older, male, and a writing friend.  So, I go outside the shop to talk to him, and he tells me that this famous author- again an older male with no name or face- is going repelling off the building and then shouts to the guy that I want to go too.  Immediately I start to feel nauseated.

The author handed me a carabiner ( I only know this word because I googled it), and as I put it on my belt loop, like I would with the one that holds my All Access credentials at my husband's shows, I was thinking- how is this going to keep me safe?  He started walking toward the wall of the building we were going to repel down, and I began my defense, my mind quickly arranging all of the reasons I should not do this.  Then I thought of Gilmore Girls, and the episode where Rory jumps off of a seven-story high platform as part of her journalistic investigation into the Life and Death Brigade.  At first, she was afraid- until Logan, her source and future boyfriend, tells her this:

"It's your choice.  People can live a hundred years without really living for a minute.  You climb up here with me it's one less minute you haven't lived."


That's when I decided I have to do it.  So, we walk around the side of the building, when suddenly we hear a huge loud bang and see what looks like red and blue fireworks in the sky.  Everyone around us starts running and somehow I end up in front of a tv, where a woman named Lucas starts reporting that some fighter jets were getting into formation and hit each other.  Then, a discussion I recently had with my friend- in real life- comes flooding back to mind.  As she drove me to the airport to go see my husband the other week, I admitted to her that I was scared of flying since watching umpteen 9/11 documentaries, including the very real reenactment of United 93, the plane that nosedived into the ground in Pennsylvania.  I remembered thinking, why add to the chances of death?  They are already all around you.  If I stay on the ground, at least they are diminished somewhat.  But my friend told me she doesn't worry when she travels, which is often, because people fly all the time without incident.

From there, I walked back to the gift shop where the dream had begun.  Now there was a big lake in front of it that I had to swim through to get there.  After walking in, I noticed Search and Rescue workers were swimming all around.  It took me a second to realize they were collecting evidence, and calling out to bystanders for help.  The vomitous feeling quickly returned and I jumped out of the water, afraid of seeing body parts.  Instead, I walked alongside the river, picking up tiny pieces of red plastic and metal.  "Pick up everything you see, everything," the workers called.  So I did.


To me, the meaning behind this dream is pathetically obvious.  I don't think it was just happenstance that the people asking me to jump were my writing friends.  I don't find it at all perplexing that I related writing with thoughts of jumping and fear and dying and self-conservation.  I never thought I would quote the gospel according to Logan Huntzberger, one of my least favorite GG characters, but insight sometimes comes in surprising packages.

Random cat in a coffee shop in Micanopy.  And a link to the scene to which I make reference:


You Jump I Jump, Jack

Standing up...

I have never reposted someone else's blog post before, but as I was just subjected to one of these backscatter x-ray machines in Jacksonville International Airport against my will, I would like to share this man's struggle with my readers.  I saw my experience as having three possible conclusions: 1, be a 30-second porn star, 2, be molested via pat down, or 3, not get to visit my husband.  I don't feel that any of those choices is fair.  But like all other blind Americans, I shut my mouth and lifted my arms like a common criminal.  I just pray I'm not pregnant, or I could have a two-headed child, as I have since found out that the medical consequences have yet to be determined.  Please read John Tyner's accounts below.  A link to his blog follows the posting.

TSA encounter at SAN

13 November 2010 

[These events took place roughly between 5:30 and 6:30 AM, November 13th in Terminal 2 of the San Diego International Airport. I'm writing this approximately 2 1/2 hours after the events transpired, and they are correct to the best of my recollection. I will admit to being particularly fuzzy on the exact order of events when dealing with the agents after getting my ticket refunded; however, all of the events described did occur.

I had my phone recording audio and video of much of these events. It can be viewed below.

Please spread this story as far and wide as possible. I will make no claims to copyright or otherwise.]

This morning, I tried to fly out of San Diego International Airport but was refused by the TSA. I had been somewhat prepared for this eventuality. I have been reading about the millimeter wave and backscatter x-ray machines and the possible harm to health as well as the vivid pictures they create of people's naked bodies. Not wanting to go through them, I had done my  research on the TSA's website prior to traveling to see if SAN had them. From all indications, they did not. When I arrived at the security line, I found that the TSA's website was out of date. SAN does in fact utilize backscatter x-ray machines.

I made my way through the line toward the first line of "defense": the TSA ID checker. This agent looked over my boarding pass, looked over my ID, looked at me and then back at my ID. After that, he waved me through. SAN is still operating metal detectors, so I walked over to one of the lines for them. After removing my shoes and making my way toward the metal detector, the person in front of me in line was pulled out to go through the backscatter machine. After asking what it was and being told, he opted out. This left the machine free, and before I could go through the metal detector, I was pulled out of line to go through the backscatter machine. When asked, I half-chuckled and said, "I don't think so." At this point, I was informed that I would be subject to a pat down, and I waited for another agent.

A male agent (it was a female who had directed me to the backscatter machine in the first place), came and waited for me to get my bags and then directed me over to the far corner of the area for screening. After setting my things on a table, he turned to me and began to explain that he was going to do a "standard" pat down. (I thought to myself, "great, not one of those gropings like I've been reading about".) After he described, the pat down, I realized that he intended to touch my groin. After he finished his description but before he started the pat down, I looked him straight in the eye and said, "if you touch my junk, I'll have you arrested." He, a bit taken aback, informed me that he would have to involve his supervisor because of my comment.

We both stood there for no more than probably two minutes before a female TSA agent (apparently, the supervisor) arrived. She described to me that because I had opted out of the backscatter screening, I would now be patted down, and that involved running hands up the inside of my legs until they felt my groin. I stated that I would not allow myself to be subject to a molestation as a condition of getting on my flight. The supervisor informed me that it was a standard administrative security check and that they were authorized to do it. I repeated that I felt what they were doing was a sexual assault, and that if they were anyone but the government, the act would be illegal. I believe that I was then informed that if I did not submit to the inspection, I would not be getting on my flight. I again stated that I thought the search was illegal. I told her that I would be willing to submit to a walk through the metal detector as over 80% of the rest of the people were doing, but I would not be groped. The supervisor, then offered to go get her supervisor.

I took a seat in a tiny metal chair next to the table with my belongings and waited. While waiting, I asked the original agent (who was supposed to do the pat down) if he had many people opt out to which he replied, none (or almost none, I don't remember exactly). He said that I gave up a lot of rights when I bought my ticket. I replied that the government took them away after September 11th. There was silence until the next supervisor arrived. A few minutes later, the female agent/supervisor arrived with a man in a suit (not a uniform). He gave me a business card identifying him as David Silva, Transportation Security Manager, San Diego International Airport. At this point, more TSA agents as well as what I assume was a local police officer arrived on the scene and surrounded the area where I was being detained. The female supervisor explained the situation to Mr. Silva. After some quick back and forth (that I didn't understand/hear), I could overhear Mr. Silva say something to the effect of, "then escort him from the airport." I again offered to submit to the metal detector, and my father-in-law, who was near by also tried to plead for some reasonableness on the TSA's part.

The female supervisor took my ID at this point and began taking some kind of report with which I cooperated. Once she had finished, I asked if I could put my shoes back on. I was allowed to put my shoes back on and gather my belongs. I asked, "are we done here" (it was clear at this point that I was going to be escorted out), and the local police officer said, "follow me". I followed him around the side of the screening area and back out to the ticketing area. I said apologized to him for the hassle, to which he replied that it was not a problem.



I made my way over to the American Airlines counter, explained the situation, and asked if my ticket could be refunded. The woman behind the counter furiously typed away for about 30 seconds before letting me know that she would need a supervisor. She went to the other end of the counter. When she returned, she informed me that the ticket was non-refundable, but that she was still trying to find a supervisor. After a few more minutes, she was able to refund my ticket. I told her that I had previously had a bad experience with American Airlines and had sworn never to fly with them again (I rationalized this trip since my father-in-law had paid for the ticket), but that after her helpfulness, I would once again be willing to use their carrier again.

At this point, I thought it was all over. I began to make my way to the stairs to exit the airport, when I was approached by another man in slacks and a sport coat. He was accompanied by the officer that had escorted me to the ticketing area and Mr. Silva. He informed me that I could not leave the airport. He said that once I start the screening in the secure area, I could not leave until it was completed. Having left the area, he stated, I would be subject to a civil suit and a $10,000 fine. I asked him if he was also going to fine the 6 TSA agents and the local police officer who escorted me from the secure area. After all, I did exactly what I was told. He said that they didn't know the rules, and that he would deal with them later. They would not be subject to civil penalties. I then pointed to Mr. Silva and asked if he would be subject to any penalties. He is the agents' supervisor, and he directed them to escort me out. The man informed me that Mr. Silva was new and he would not be subject to penalties, either. He again asserted the necessity that I return to the screening area. When I asked why, he explained that I may have an incendiary device and whether or not that was true needed to be determined. I told him that I would submit to a walk through the metal detector, but that was it; I would not be groped. He told me that their procedures are on their website, and therefore, I was fully informed before I entered the airport; I had implicitly agreed to whatever screening they deemed appropriate. I told him that San Diego was not listed on the TSA's website as an airport using Advanced Imaging Technology, and I believed that I would only be subject to the metal detector. He replied that he was not a webmaster, and I asked then why he was referring me to the TSA's website if he didn't know anything about it. I again refused to re-enter the screening area.

The man asked me to stay put while he walked off to confer with the officer and Mr. Silva. They went about 20 feet away and began talking amongst themselves while I waited. I couldn't over hear anything, but I got the impression that the police officer was recounting his version of the events that had transpired in the screening area (my initial refusal to be patted down). After a few minutes, I asked loudly across the distance if I was free to leave. The man dismissively held up a finger and said, "hold on". I waited. After another minute or so, he returned and asked for my name. I asked why he needed it, and reminded him that the female supervisor/agent had already taken a report. He said that he was trying to be friendly and help me out. I asked to what end. He reminded me that I could be sued civilly and face a $10,000 fine and that my cooperation could help mitigate the penalties I was facing. I replied that he already had my information in the report that was taken and I asked if I was free to leave. I reminded him that he was now illegally detaining me and that I would not be subject to screening as a condition of leaving the airport. He told me that he was only trying to help (I should note that his demeanor never suggested that he was trying to help. I was clearly being interrogated.), and that no one was forcing me to stay. I asked if tried to leave if he would have the officer arrest me. He again said that no one was forcing me to stay. I looked him in the eye, and said, "then I'm leaving". He replied, "then we'll bring a civil suit against you", to which I said, "you bring that suit" and walked out of the airport.

This video starts with my bag and belongings going through the x-ray machine.They're kind of long, and they don't show much, but the audio is really good.

http://johnnyedge.blogspot.com/2010/11/these-events-took-place-roughly-between.html

Cruising on auto-pilot...

I am told that I have the answers within me.  My direction has been laid out for me.  I will follow the path meant for me.

Yesterday I went back in time and worked a shift at the hotel to help out.  I was scheduled by myself, so I was worried I wouldn't remember anything.  It's been three months since I left, after all.  When I got there and had to sign into the computer system, I just stared blankly.  I couldn't remember even my password.  Had someone asked me- what do you do in this situation, I would've paused and reflected.  I might not have known, or at the very least been unsure.  But somehow no matter what happened throughout the shift, my body moved, my mouth spoke, and my tone came out with confidence.  It was almost like it was programmed within me without my knowledge.  As though my brain had no part in it.

I think life's that way.  No one tells us how to live.  Sure, we learn a few things as we go along, but it seems that the important parts have been pre-programmed.  Which is why I am depending on that system to lay down some bread crumbs for me.  I've been feeling a bit lost lately, pulled in different directions, yet stuck at the very same time.  I sense that there is more for me.  I'm feeling claustrophobic in my life.  Not in my relationships, those are great.  But in me.  It's as though there is something inside trying to break free.  As cliche as it sounds, sometimes things are cliche for a reason.

Maybe it's the human condition to become overly reliant on the brain.  As though it knows all.  But I think I'd like to try cruising on auto-pilot for a while.  Because I feel like it is my brain that's holding me back.  I don't want to think through life.  I want to experience it. 

This is my friend Jess.  She says you can't learn about giving birth from a book.  You have to experience it, and somehow your body just knows what to do.  Same as your first kiss, falling in love, and creating the baby in the first place.  If all of the important things in life happen on auto-pilot, then why can't everything else?