Holy Bagels, Batman!

I will be the first to admit that Communion has been on the brain lately. The only thing is, this has nothing to do with the recent comments about who should or should not receive, it has nothing to do with the election or anything like that, but out of the weirdness that is my mind, I managed to dream that the priest had concecrated bagels instead of unleavened bread for Holy Communion. In my dream it was very clearly one of the priests from my parish. It didn't seem like it was my actual church but after dropping the "real hosts" on the floor, he managed to give out bagel slices instead. They were toasted and buttered. He also gave me a plain one and a poppy seed bagel. I got really upset as they were crispy and I kept saying this is wrong... you're going to drop Jesus everywhere, that it was unholy bread and not the Body of Christ at all. He seemed truly unconcerned. Sitting next to him was one of the sisters who works in the parish. They were sitting behind a table like it was a bake sale. They had the chalice sitting between them and handed it out really irreverently, like it was fruit punch or kool-aid. It was totally bizarre.

I do recall thinking or saying in the dream that Jesus tasted good and that left me with a very discomforting feeling. I shudder as I write this. I remember when I was a kid we were told by the nuns in Catechism class not to even chew on the host, that I can't actually imagine tasting it. ;-)

I do admit that the host that the priest holds up and breaks during the consecration tastes better than the little round ones that are kept in the tabernacle. I don't know what the difference is and I don't think the Carmelite nuns here in town bake the bread anymore.

I actually thought about emailing the priest to tell him all about this dream, but I don't think I will. As amusing as I think it might be, he might think totally differently.

Awake and Thinking

I just realized I rarely talk about my writing in here, so bear with me while I do. Sometimes, when I can't sleep I write in my head or at least think about my stories. I'm not always stressing out about life, which is a good thing. I can, however, stay up late writing in my head too. I've always been a creative person. For me, fiction and writing is a natural part of my life. I've been making up stories since I was a little girl. I do believe creativity runs in my family. We have artists, seamstresses, carpenters, and a couple of writers (journalist types) in the family. It makes sense I express myself through words.

I've lazed in bed on a weekend morning or a day when I don't have to be up early and think about my stories. Sometimes, scenes or actual bits of plot come to being from these moments. Often, I just try to work out a scene that is troubling me. Unfortunately, I'm still troubled with two of my stories. I still don't know how to end my first novel. I need my main character to go off to Europe with her daughter and her best friend. She is supposed to spend the inheritance his partner left for her and her daughter when he died. Meanwhile, the best friend will meet a nice guy in Spain and stay, giving her the keys to the NYC apartment and tell her to move back to NYC, which I can see happening. However, I don't want to write about her adventures in Europe and I need to make her reunion with her daughter's father seem realistic. Oy. That's where I've been stuck for a long, long time now.

Then with my second story, which is the one I've been writing for a couple of years now, is at another turning point and I can't decide how it all ends. This is a story that I don't want to see end. I love my characters. for better or for worse, they truly live in my head. A few nights ago, I was thinking about, Isabel and Andrew, (the twins of this story) and a scene that emerged as a result of my thoughts on the election.

They were sitting around the county fair building here in town waiting to vote. Of course, there was the usual conversational banter between them. He was reading and studying all the voter guides, which I'm sure he'd read and studied before. He had the bishops' guide for Faithful Citizenship, the archbishop's pastoral letter, and whatever else he found helpful to help guide him in his decision. He was smart, well-educated and didn't like that he had to make this choice, either way he felt it was a bad one. Meanwhile, Isabel knew how she was going to vote, no second guessing, no reservations, but her brother, the priest, was struggling as many people I know are struggling.

Perhaps I was working through my election conflict through Andrew, the priest character.
Maybe I was thinking or speculating what the priests at my parish were struggling with this year. I really don't know. This isn't a scene I'll finish or include in the story but I had to write it. I tend to find stories in just about all things, some are good ones to tell, others just little pieces to the whole. Often, I write about things I've been observing in others and not necessarily happening to me. You never know what just might inspire me to write something.