Blanket

Blanket: (n) a large piece of material used as a covering for warmth.

Dictionary B

Having met my share of homeless brothers and sisters, I became very curious. What was it like to be homeless?

So I made a decision to don the uniform of the street and attempt to walk in the shoes of those without gainful employment, hearth and home.

I decided I would do it for a week, but must tell you that I abandoned it after twenty-four hours.

The daytime found me in a situation in which I constantly needed to be on the move so as not to annoy the “civilized” people who passed by. I got hungry very quickly and didn’t have any money, so had to figure out where to go for a free luncheon, or beg off of my neighbors.

It was humiliating.

But the most difficult part was when nighttime fell, and my mission was to locate a place to sleep that was both comfortable and safe.

I discovered that such a utopia does not exist for the street person.

I hid behind a huge bush and laid down several cardboard boxes I had broken up to use as my mattress. Several problems leaped to the forefront:

1. Every sound spooked me.

2. Sleeping on the ground means sharing the turf with things that creep and crawl.

3. I was uncomfortable not having my head elevated (pillow).

4. But the most annoying part was the lack of a blanket.

I was so accustomed to being covered, protected, swaddled by that piece of cloth that gave warmth and the sense of cocooning.

It made me bitchy, frustrated, cold, and caused me to wake up the next morning antagonistic toward the world around me–in a season when I was most vulnerable.

A blanket is a sense of well-being.

When you remove it, it takes away a gentle reassurance that all is well … and you are coddled.

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Bedroom

Bedroom: (n/adj) a room for sleeping in; relating to sexual relationsDictionary B

If you realize how silly we human beings are, it actually will make you become more merciful of the thoughts and actions of others.

This is evident to me with the word “bedroom.”

Even the dictionary can’t decide whether it’s a place of sleep or a launching pad for pleasure.

The bedroom itself, with all of its elements, is divided up equally as confusing.

For instance, the word “pillow” does not conjugate to any kind of sexual inference at all, but if you say “sheets,” then thoughts of what happens between them might cross your mind.

No one seems to get horny at the mention of a “blanket.”

And certainly, the word “dresser” does not rise up the blood pressure–unless you change it to “un-dress-her.”

How about the closet? I guess you could come out of it.

The accompanying bathroom does not evoke much passion.

But the word “mattress” does conjure visions of a high school fling or two.

I don’t think we are turned on by “box springs.”

But “night stand” might make us think about special implements and lotions located within.

We are so hilarious and uptight in our actions, yet often lascivious in our thoughts.

Yet if you did a chart on the amount of time you spend in the bedroom having sex, even reading and watching television would soar high above the antics.

Bedroom–another example of how childish we remain … while still insisting we are worthy of a mortgage.

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Asleep

Asleep: (adj & adv) in the state of sleep; not attentive or alert, inactivedictionary with letter A

Inactive?? Are you kidding me?

I would venture to say that some people have more emotion, thought, planning and creativity while they’re asleep than they do with their eyeballs wide open during the day.

I am not a mystic. I have never read my astrological chart, nor do I believe in ESP. But I will tell you–right in the middle of our lives is a doorway to eternity, which we enter every single night, relaxing on our mattress of bliss.

It’s called sleep.

During that passage, we talk to ourselves, we feel sensations, have visions that would make Hollywood blush in embarrassment and inadequacy, and there is the possibility that the Spirits of the Universe can actually commune with us, stimulating areas of our brain that normally lay dormant.

I have had all the answers to the problems of the universe resolved in my mind in a moment of sleep, only to have them snatched away by the alarm clock.

I wrote a book where I referred to this time of sleep and refreshing as a “mortalation.”

For after all, sleep is a simulation of death, where we are no longer in our conscious world, but instead, given license to bounce and play without gravity or limitation.

It’s a great time for God to speak to us.

Of course, if you don’t believe in God, it’s a great time for us to speak to ourselves from an inner consciousness that is often muffled by the pillow of propriety.

I love to be asleep–not just because it is essential to my well-being physically, but because I think my dreams actually mean something and are worthy of my consideration and interpretation.

I would have to disagree with the dictionary:asleep is not an inactive period.

Matter of fact, the activity that occurs during those night visions is often the salvation of our present and future soul.

 

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Abode

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abode:  1. n. a place of residence, a house or home. 2. a sojourn or a stay

Words can freak people out.

Sometimes that’s the problem with looking things up in the dictionary–you end up thinking that a word like “abode” really sounds cool, so you mistakenly and foolishly try to use it in a sentence in the presence of your friends. So instead of referring to your house or apartment, you mention it in passing as “your abode.” It may seem really hip to do things like this, but you have to weigh the value of intellectual pursuit against the prospect of scaring your friends, making them think you’ve become a terminal nerd who is beyond redemption.

I know there is a common sensibility that the better your vocabulary becomes, the greater your potential for success. But I think there are limits. I think if you start sounding like an eighteenth century poet while you’re ordering your lunch at McDonald’s, you may be the victim of one of the classic turn-offs.

Much as I may not appreciate what I’m about to say, I have to admit it’s true. Some words have retired and are in need of collecting social security–and perhaps have entered the realm of dementia.

Abode is such a word.

If you actually did use the word “abode” in a common, everyday sentence, people would think you were either a smart-ass or that you were on the verge of becoming an interior decorator. Don’t ask me what that means. I just know it isn’t particularly good for your social interaction. So the next time you’re tempted to say “abode” instead of “house,” just remember that others who have selected that profile have ended up very alone … pretending that they enjoy reading Robert Louis Stevenson novels.