The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 2063 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

After dinner I sat in the study and mused about what Jackson had said about it being dangerous to be near me at times. I did have a history of things happening around me and wasn’t sure if this was coincidence, or me getting involved or something else so nebulous as to be incomprehensible. I let my mind ramble and it looked at beyond coincidence, if there is such a thing.

Some people dismiss coincidence suggesting there is no such thing–perhaps they’re right, but if they are then does it suggest that the physics of occurrences mean that things are related and meaningfully but not necessarily to our minds. A flood somewhere in the tropics might trigger landslides which were precipitated by logging or some other human activity. Does that become a coincidence that the landslides only occurred where the logging happened–no, that’s a consequence. After a short time I nodded off to sleep still unable to decide if coincidences occurred or not. I suspect quantum theorists would suggest not and have some long winded calculation to prove it which would mean nothing to me at all not understanding the first step of it. But then I have the mathematical abilities of a mushroom. I suppose I could have asked Trish but I wasn’t sure she’d have the comprehension to understand the question let alone the answer. Sometimes I despaired about my stupidity, which just proves that a PhD doesn’t necessarily mean very much outside its specialist area.

Tom wandered in, “Your doctor phoned earlier, wants you to call him back tomorrow.”

“Okay, thanks, Daddy.”

“Fa’ whit are ye sittin’ oot here?”

I was too tired to make up a story so I told him the truth, “I was thinking about something that journalist fellow said.”

“Oh aye, and whit wis that?”

“He said I was dangerous to be near at times.”

“Weel, aw’ women are at times ye ken.”

“I don’t think he was implying at certain times of the month, rather that when I’m around people get hurt.”

“Weel, it’s not ye that hurts them, usually ye’re the ain wha saves them–it’s jest coincidence.”

“What if it’s not?”

“Whit d’ye mean, no coincidence?”

“Well, just off the top of my head, what if something else caused it to happen to test me or to make me do something?”

“I’d think yer ego had exploded.”

“That was my take as well.”

“Whit we’re ye thinkin’?”

“I was trying to fit in this Shekinah goddess thing. What if she caused things to happen...”

“She’d be a nasty piece o’ work.”

“But in the dreams I have of her, she isn’t, she’s actually quite nice and she looks after Billie very well.”

“Sae that’s whit aw’ this is aboot, ye’re still grievin’ fa’ her, go an’ see Dr Thomas and get some help.”

“I’d have thought you’d be pleased I was considering deities might exist.”

“No, I’m no pleased, if ye’re haeing dreams aboot strange goddesses, then ye need tae see Anne Thomas. Promise me ye’ll gang an’ see her?”

Oh dear, he thinks I’m losing the plot. Maybe I am, “I’ll give her a call on Monday and make an appointment.”

“Mak sure ye dae,” with that he left. I roused myself and went to check on the children, the girls were still awake and chattering. They stopped as soon as they thought they saw me. It didn’t occur to them that I’d heard them outside the door which was the case. I settled them down, gave each a hug and a kiss and told them a short story, they were asleep before I got to the punch line–mind you the same happens with adults when I tell jokes.

In bed I told Simon about what Tom and Jackson had said and he was inclined to side with Tom. He told me that a visit to Anne Thomas was an excellent idea. He also suggested that Tom would be biased against anything but traditional Christian doctrine, so Old Testament goddesses or pagan Gods and so on would be outside his consciousness. That made some sense and it had occurred to me but not as bluntly as he put it, and I wasn’t sure if it was quite true.

Certainly Daddy believed in Jesus and the rest of it, but he’d also seen and heard things which couldn’t be explained by Churches controlling everything. I’d always thought he had quite a broad view of life–I mean most fundies would hardly have welcomed me transitioning let alone invited me to stay with them.

He believes he talks to his deceased family–not quite the usual thing for your average Christian–though it might be more widespread than we realise. Look at the number of people who keep their family graves immaculate and visit regularly, perhaps they’re also talking to their forebears while they tidy up the plot.

Tom is always telling me I’m special, I don’t think I am, except in having an unusual route to womanhood and an even stranger one to motherhood. If that’s being special, I can cope with it. If I’m here to save humanity–they’d be better off with Superman or one of the other superheroes. Perhaps that’s where the egocentric idea must have originated, others telling me I’m special and my unconscious having a field day in justifying it by inventing or calling up an Old Testament goddess. That had to be the reason, self delusion brought on by suggestions from others. I almost sighed with relief then crept out of bed to use the loo. Simon was dead-o and I doubted that he even knew I’d left the bed let alone returned to it. I was tempted to rest my cold feet on his, but that would have been mean.

Reassured that I wasn’t crazy or special, I soon slipped into a refreshing sleep though at one point I thought I heard a sort of cackle but decided it was just my imagination. I woke up to find the kitten curled up on my tummy and purring like mad, I was sweltered. The temperatures were poor for the time of year but it wasn’t that cold and I certainly didn’t need a furry hot-water bottle which was effectively what I had. I glanced at the clock, it was just before seven on a Sunday morning. I turned over on my side and the cat climbed up on my hip and settled there but the pressure on my bladder meant I had to get up and go to the loo.

That was her signal to go into full, ‘I want breakfast–NOW,’ mode and she raced about the place, miaowing and generally creating havoc. I returned to the bedroom and saw Simon still sleeping. He must have a bladder like a five gallon drum because he rarely wakes needing a pee, whereas I do it all the time, and he drinks probably more than I do. It must be the surgery which causes it. However, It also made me realise I am special–I have a weak bladder–oh bugger.