{"id":13777,"date":"2020-07-15T00:32:30","date_gmt":"2020-07-15T06:32:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/?p=13777"},"modified":"2020-07-15T00:32:30","modified_gmt":"2020-07-15T06:32:30","slug":"nightmare-on-apple-street","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/2020\/07\/15\/nightmare-on-apple-street\/","title":{"rendered":"NIGHTMARE ON APPLE STREET"},"content":{"rendered":"

BY JOELLEN COLLINS<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"
JoEllen Collins\u2014a longtime resident of the Wood River Valley\u2014is a teacher, writer, fabric artist, choir member and unabashedly proud grandma known as \u201cBibi Jo.\u201d<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

In analyzing the sometimes subtle effects of the COVID-19 virus, experts have noted an increase in nightmares among citizens who normally don\u2019t claim to dream much. I have always had vivid dreams, many bizarre, which provide me with endless analyses of my subconsciousness.<\/p>\n

I will not bore you here with the nature of my nighttime fantasies, as relating dreams is usually a fruitless experience and often boring to the listener. However, I had an especially odd nightmare early on in my quarantine weeks, and I keep recalling it with the events of this pandemic.<\/p>\n

I dreamt I was writing and sending too many messages on my laptop, when the computer started to turn red and swell up to a triple-sized, untouchable oddity. Then I noticed that I, too, was beginning to turn red and swell. I screamed “It’s radioactive!” as I awoke into, thank God, only a remembered vision.<\/p>\n

I am often disturbed by the lack of connection that dominates many of my nightmares, but this one has stayed with me, as an older woman who is not a “techie.” Even though I never learned to type, I have slowly been able to employ many of the skills necessary in today\u2019s world to wade through the current information and communications skills adequately, especially if I ask my grandchildren for help.<\/p>\n

And while I bewail the lack of human touch and personal time with others, and the plethora of talking through phones instead of in person, I realize that this pandemic has, at least, occurred in the time of an obvious abundance of connections available through social websites, Zoom and many avenues we are discovering. I understand that I must adjust more fully to the availability of sources on the Internet.<\/p>\n

In looking back on that nightmare, I reflect on two interpretations: one is the excessive and bloated time I spend on the ever-growing sources from my computer, almost like a huge atomic bomb fraught with devastation, an overload sometimes almost poisonous. If I compare that with my library card, real letters, newspapers, magazines, books and radio, the sources available when I grew up, I can despair. Go through a typical daily Facebook record and try to avoid nasty and hateful views by some with whom you would hope to maintain a positive relationship.<\/p>\n

And how does that \u201cradiation\u201d lead to my fear of the future and a glut of sadness within me? I don’t know, but I am working on it. The second interpretation is more positive: I am trying to accept the new realities of my life without gorging on the fear and negativity.<\/p>\n

Obviously, this overdose of data will be a new feature of our world, with good and bad results as we access the omnipresent and omnipotent flow of truth and fiction. I did awaken before the imagined result of my bad dream. Maybe there would have been a happy ending filled with ready access to other peoples and ideas that will strengthen us all.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

BY JOELLEN COLLINS In analyzing the sometimes subtle effects of the COVID-19 virus, experts have noted an increase in nightmares among citizens who normally don\u2019t claim to dream much. I have always had vivid dreams, many bizarre, which provide me with endless analyses of my subconsciousness. I will not bore you here with the nature […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":7944,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","_pvb_checkbox_block_on_post":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,22],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-13777","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-commentary","8":"category-on-lifes-terms"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13777","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13777"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13777\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7944"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13777"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13777"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13777"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}