When I was drinking, I never realized how constantly bone-tired I was. I’d stopped dreaming years before I got sober. I missed my dreams desperately; I didn’t realize their vanishing was an effect of my alcoholism and was a sign that I wasn’t getting the REM sleep I needed.
When I stopped drinking, I started sleeping. And migod. I was good at it.
My dreams came back, as vivid and magical as ever. I’ve learned, since living with Matt and comparing our dreams, that not everybody dreams of bathtubs on train tracks and floating cities made of yarn. It took about a year, but for the first time in since I could remember, I felt rested.
But state change is hard for me. My mother used to say she needed to hit me on the head with a rubber mallet to make me go to sleep. It’s still true, and Matt occasionally threatens me with the mallet when I won’t shut the hell up and go to sleep already.
And then, once I’m asleep, just hope you’re not the one waiting around for me to get the hell up.
Coffee is central to my sober life. I am non-verbal in the morning, without coffee. I am a huge grump. Nothing irritates me more quickly than a delay in the coffee. One of the best things ever is the click on the bedside table, the heavenly smell when Matt treats me to a coffee in bed.
So I chose coffee to dye the third set of yarns for this project. Maybe I should have had more coffee whilst doing so, because pictures are thin on the ground.
Process was similar to the bougainvillea and rosemary dyes. I collected grounds every day for a week or so, until I had a huge pile. I soaked the grounds for a few days, boiled them in a big pot with lots of water, and let them soak another day or two. Then I strained the liquid, divvied it up into jars, and popped in the mordanted yarn.
And now I wait.