Wake Up And Go To Sleep!
I’m concerned about my state of mind.
And I have last night’s dreams to prove it.
I don’t think even The Dream Dictionary has a description for this shit.
Normally, my dreams are just plain weird. I’m often flying around like a superhero or trying to put my fractured teeth back in my mouth or traipsing naked through Rite-Aid or some such nonsense.
But things took a turn last night.
I’ll start with the first ghastly vision. It jolted me awake where I found myself in a tangled, sweaty mess of sheets with my heart pounding out of my chest.
I’m at my parent’s house.
I went out back to lounge in the sun and saw the next door neighbor; a large menacing dude that scared me back into the house. When I looked out the window at said menacing dude, he was busting up my lounge chair with a ridiculously long shotgun. When I tried to call 911, he answered. Of course!! Who else would be at the other end of a 911 call in the middle of a nightmare, right? (At least I had clothes on and my teeth were still securely attached to my gums).
And then he shows up in the house with another menacing duded: his twin brother. Yes, that’s right, a twin.
Identical, not fraternal. Oh, joy! Double happiness!
And I was kidnapped at gunpoint by the genetic clones. They marched me down the street which was the same street my parents still live on and the same street where I rode my groovy metallic green stingray bike every day of my young life…without a helmet!!
Shit, you’d think it would have been some deserted stretch of desolate road rather than a place where I had such fond memories. I will never feel safe on that street again, I can tell you that!!
My husband had to negotiate my release.
It appears he was successful because I’m here to write about it.
And then I fell asleep again where things went back to a relative norm:
After washing a load of goose poo off of my 1950s vintage sedan, I attended a Keith Richards concert with some people I didn’t know at a small tavern located adjacent to an airport. After the concert, my friends left in search of Keith and his entourage and my gynecologist flew me home in her miniscule 2-seat airplane that landed like a helicopter but looked like a Smart Car with wings. After we landed, I told her I had no car so she lent me her MG Midget. I picked up my husband somewhere in the Simi Valley and we started to drive home with the Midget never going overa bout 40 which irritated the living hell out of husband who – even in my dreams – has ADD. We didn’t get very very far when a giant meteor hit the earth creating an enormous cloud of toxic dust. We ditched the Midget and made a run for it. But not before I pulled safely out of traffic which was absurd since a cloud of toxic dust was descending upon us. But…..dreams always seem to afford the dreamer lots of time to dawdle in the face of impending doom.
Funny thing, though. While we were running for our lives, my husband decided to hide from me as a joke. That’s a fine how-d0-you-do after he went to s0 much trouble negotiating my release.
Whew! I’m glad I worked through that.
Now I can stop worrying.