A month ago I started having recurring dreams. Each night I found myself transported back half a lifetime to high school. Each night I would bumble around innocently reliving my youth, until the inevitable horror struck. And each night, it was the same horror: I would find myself in a classroom, only to discover that I was about to sit an examination, in a course that I had apparently signed up for but failed to attend for the entire year.
I'm no interpreter of dreams, but for me that one is a no-brainer. It's a classic procrastination dream. Clearly there was something I was avoiding that I knew was going to catch up with me if I didn't acknowledge it pronto. Only I couldn't for the life of me figure out what I was trying to tell myself. Outstanding bills? Nope. Work deadline? Oh, that's right, I haven't had one of those for about two years now. Event horizon which is causing me stress? Come on, the only major event of the year was birthing a child, and that's done and dusted!
Finally, last week, I got it. It was about the sewing machine.
The poor sewing machine. It's been packed up in a box since well before we moved. We parted on bad terms - it had lower thread tension issues, I had unpicking fatigue. I was waiting for the perfect time, the perfect project, the perfect motivation to get back on the horse. Of course there wasn't one, so last week I plucked up the necessary courage and just did a spot of mystery sewing.
Here's what came of it... and it remains a mystery!
I'm no interpreter of dreams, but for me that one is a no-brainer. It's a classic procrastination dream. Clearly there was something I was avoiding that I knew was going to catch up with me if I didn't acknowledge it pronto. Only I couldn't for the life of me figure out what I was trying to tell myself. Outstanding bills? Nope. Work deadline? Oh, that's right, I haven't had one of those for about two years now. Event horizon which is causing me stress? Come on, the only major event of the year was birthing a child, and that's done and dusted!
Finally, last week, I got it. It was about the sewing machine.
The poor sewing machine. It's been packed up in a box since well before we moved. We parted on bad terms - it had lower thread tension issues, I had unpicking fatigue. I was waiting for the perfect time, the perfect project, the perfect motivation to get back on the horse. Of course there wasn't one, so last week I plucked up the necessary courage and just did a spot of mystery sewing.
Here's what came of it... and it remains a mystery!
When I started foundation-piecing these kimono offcuts together, I think I was envisioning a scarf. Initially, I cut my patchwork into three long strips and tried them around my neck. But no, it wasn't quite right. So I sewed the strips back into one piece, but in a different order.
Then I thought maybe I'd go for an Obi. I added wadding, and backing, and two waist ties. And then I put it on my waist and realised that THAT IS THE LAST PLACE ON EARTH I would like to draw attention to at the moment. Particularly with a big, bright, thickly padded belt.
Now I'm flicking between 'table runner' and 'fancy baby change mat'. Except in either case, it's really not practical, as vintage silks and brocades are not the most washable of fabrics...
Perhaps you have a thought about where this mystery sewing could end up?
The sewing might not be going anywhere obvious, but the sewing machine is back in action and you'll be pleased to know that I'm not waking up in a cold sweat screaming 'what's the square root of Shakespeare?' anymore.
