Jeebus H. Christ... I just had the weirdest dream....

And nope, it wasn't 'adult'....

It was about my great-nieces. And me telling them about their fambly, and where they came from, and mostly about their great-great grandparents, and what they taught me....

So that they would know about their family. My grandparents were very keen on that, knowing where you come from. Not all of them, just two. My paternal grandfather was very proud that his great grandfather came from.... well, Ireland, but he was English. But he fell in-love with an Irish woman in Cork, which is why he had to leave the island, and go to Murka in the first place. He was in direct line to take the title of Earl, which is the lowest branch on the totem pole, but what the hell, my grandfather used to swell with pride telling me that story.

His grandfather rode with the post taking monies up in the Northeast, and got shot by robbers.... but seemingly got away, and never let them get the booty. Gawd, was he proud of that. Unfortunately, the guy died.

Lesson? Never NEVER let anyone fuck you over.

My Grandfather retired just when my father was looking for someone who could be a mother to us, and decided as first project to read the Bible, front to back. It was a very old family Bible, with a lock on it.

He was so outraged over the Old Testament, he did a rant. 'That book of HORRORS!' And decided that no child should ever get to see anything in it, and kept it locked.

Now everyone knows that if you are a curious child, you are gonna wait for the opportunity to check it the fuck out. Ooooo..... )))))forBIDDEN((((. And of course, my inquiring little mind wanted to know. So of course I went looking when it was unlocked. He'd given me some tags to look for that had sent him off the charts for OUTRAGE. 'David and Jonathan' 'The Book of Ruth'. So I was right in there, with my eight year old mind....

And I couldn't figure it out, what was so 'wrong' or horrible about it. I thought the texts were beautiful.

(Bells ringing, anyone? You don't make choices, you just ARE.)

Whatever, my grandfather was very cool. And his thing was instilling a sense of family pride in his grandchildren. That you walk tall, and keep your fucking head up.

My maternal grandmother was also a stickler for 'where we come from'. She could go on for hours, with the pictures to prove it, so to speak. From southern France, via Canada, farming, and then down to NH to work in the mills. She was so religious.... oh well, wtf, she really botched it. My grandfather on that side.... loved him. He didn't give a fuck about heritage, or anything. And found me too serious. So he would come AT me and tickle me, and try to cheer me up and be a child, and yell, 'Hey, you old stick-in-the-mud!' He died of a heart attack way too early, and I loved him muchly.

I threw up at his wake. The beginning of a long disaffection for hypocrisy.

Whatever, I was dreaming. Who the hell is going to tell my great-nieces, huh? Wonderful stories, funny anecdotes, and so on. I really think it would be something good to pass on what you know, where you come from, and so on.

But am not the one to do it. In the dream, I did, just downed the drama for their age. And I have never dreamed about them before. Came out of the blue.

(Shakes himself off) Dreams are totally weird. And yeah, have read Freud.

Update Number TWO: I do not wish to have people get the wrong impression. It was just a fucking dream.... Butcha KNOW.... I do not think it is a BAD thing at all.. To have your folks tell you where the hell you came from, and make you a bit proud about it. A 'bit'. It doesn't matter, really, but it gives you a bit of sense of who you are, you know?

Am really freaking out here.

My family was my family... once upon a time.

Wanna rumble about that? Some assholes have.....

Update Number One: What the Fuck was I thinking about while dreaming? Never sleep on a full stomach. Absolutely weird.

Update number three: If you go OUT into the world, one of the first things people are going to ask you is 'where do you come from?' Guaranteed. And I am SICK and TIRED of people taking me for a Russian, due to my name. I am TIRED, I tell you, TIRED of telling people that it is English. And no relation to the assassinated guy in Russia who was the doctor to the Czar and his family.

So I have to go back to Webster's Dictionary. I stumbled upon my name. It was in the famous 'To Be, or not to be' monologue in Hamlet. I was in the fifth grade, and thought
Oh...

I didn't particularly like the term 'bare' in front of it, but what the hell, it was Shakespeare.