Yoga & Bad Dreams

I actually hauled my sorry bod out to yoga class last night. My balance is terrible, I still wobble like a drunken, one-legged shore bird and I can't do what everyone else in the class seems to do with ease. But it wasn't really bad, in fact at times it felt good to just stretch. I was able to have a range of movement that is much improved from the last time I went to class. And I was able to support myself on my arms for the first time.

Once again though, the mental part escapes me. It's so very boring. I know, I know...I'm supposed to be concentrating on my breathing and quieting my mind. But the insipid music leads to wool-gathering leads to making lists of things that need to be done, leads to whatever needs to be worried about or figured out. I shake myself back into the zone, only to find a minute later I'm whirring around in my head again like a mindless hamster on an ever-spinning wheel. It's as bad as factory work for keeping the mind occupied.

Then for some reason I woke up at 2 am in a bad sweat, with pounding heart and one of those "chasing" dreams. This time I was chasing Alex, who was chasing Echo, though I was doing a bad job of it, with one shoe on and one shoe off, alternately loping and hopping madly through a parking lot in the rain, trying to get to a giant tour bus driven by my cousin, Francie. So what the heck is that all about? After an hour of tossing about, phoning my kids (it was 11 pm on the west coast, why not?) and thinking about getting up, I just gave up and got up.

I'll probably have to nap this afternoon to make up for it, but it was better than just lying there being as bored in bed as I am at yoga.