Sammiches

I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast yesterday morning.  There were only 3 slices of bread (plus the end pieces, which neither Scott nor I will eat), so I made it a double-decker. I ate it at my desk, and it was delicious.

Last night, I dreamt that I wanted another PB&J sandwich, but remembered that we were out of bread.  And lo, I turned my head and saw a previously unseen full beautiful loaf of bread on the counter.  "Now I can make a sandwich!"

I woke up this morning, eagerly anticipating that creamy rich peanut butter and delicious sweet grape jam, only to remember that there was, in fact, no bread in the house.  And I was sad.

I repeated the story at work, and nearly cried over my peanut butter deprivation.

I repeated the story to Scott when I got home, the sandwich-shaped hole in my heart still gaping.

And now I'm telling you.

Damn, I miss that sandwich. 

Between the Alarms

Yesterday morning, between the alarm and the snooze, I dreamed that there was a roach crawling on the toilet seat. Of course, I made Scott go and check the bathroom before I would even get out of bed.

This morning between alarms, Scott and I were at the house for the walk-through, and it was obvious that some work had been done: the majority of the house had been painted yellow. The shade of yellow was actually fairly neutral and unoffensive. The problem was it looked like the painters had worked in the dark. Whole patches of the wall were still white. The kitchen was worse. They had painted the walls robin's egg blue, given us white appliances, and white-washed my beautiful dark wood cabinets! I started to cry. Scott took out two pieces of bread and shook the crumbs into the carpet. I guess we all handle frustration differently.

Of course, I woke up realizing that it had only been a dream. But I found myself in the shower daydreaming about how many things could go wrong today and tomorrow. I still haven't shaken myself out of it. Hopefully the cinnamon rolls Scott's currently icing will make it all better. If not, he's driving today, so I'll be doing deep breathing exercises in the car.

Namaste...

Wow, that was weird...

I had a dream last night with so many crazy bits and pieces that I can't even wrap my head around it. It's embarrassingly random, so I thought I'd share...

I was at a steep hill - picture lawn seating at a stadium - for some kind of public fireworks display...

I was with someone else's toddler, which was probably a residual Molly from spending time with Jenn's family, but was unexplained in the dream...

The kid and I were walking down a line of people to get to a specific spot (maybe the rest of the family?), when she stopped and sat on someone else's blanket. Before I could reach down to scoop her up, the woman on the blanket (early 60's, curly short hair, red t-shirt) picked her up. I thought she was going to hand the kid to me, but instead she rolled her down the hill!

At this point, the kid was no longer in the dream. I don't know whether she was hurt, and I never went down to look. I feel a little guilty about that. But the most important thing to me at the time was vengeance on that woman. I yelled at her, I was outraged, I said a lot of curse words (which strikes me, because I can't recall ever hearing profanity in a dream before), and I told her if she didn't effing leave right now that I was going to call the police.

She didn't, so I did.

I went to the bottom of the hill and into some strangely empty building to call the cops. The dispatcher was very nice and promised to let the general manager (don't ask me...) as soon as we got off the phone.

And then a few minutes later I got a call on my cell phone (which, amazingly enough, was my actual real-life cell phone) from the chief of the Vatican secret police. I guess they were in town for the fireworks? He told me they were going to take care of her. I didn't even have to point her out - they just knew! And after they took care of her (I think they may have shot her by sniper, but I'm really not sure), they all ran out of the amphitheater. And that's when I noticed that the Vatican secret police looked like they belonged with the Joker. They were wearing navy blue tuxedos (with tails!) with teal and purple accents.

I wish I could draw a picture of the herd of them running out. It really was funny.

So that's most of what I remember. Believe it or not, there was no Taco Bell before bed last night. There was no Nyquil either. I just had a freakishly random, vivid dream. I guess it happens sometimes!

That's What I Get...

I dreamed last night that I had my stomach pumped. I hadn't been poisoned or anything - I had just eaten too much and I asked to have it done. I figure this is my subconscious reaching out and slapping me to say either

a) beware Thanksgiving, or

b) no more Taco Bell at 11pm.

I think I'm going with b.