Thursday, April 23, 2015

Crazy Dream Chronicles - Part 1,493 (or thereabouts)

This morning was a two-fer!

I woke up this morning (and was back in bed JUST in time for the 4:30 alarm to go off) after this first dream ...

I went to pick Bruise and Bucket up from school (no idea where Bubbles was in this dream), but instead of picking them up at their real-life school, I was at the school that my mom taught at for ages (where it would be about a fifteen-minute drive home to my childhood home, as opposed to a five-minute drive to our house ... BUT, as in dreams, we still had our current house).

And, Bruise and Bucket had, for some reason, taken the bus (which normally wouldn't go to my childhood home, not on the bus route from THAT school ... but, again, DREAMS). And I didn't realize it, so I was out of the car and inside the school, since one of the office ladies (from their IRL school) needed a ride home, and I was asked to do that.

So, I'm hanging in the office of my mom's old school (-ish), writing notes to two male teachers that don't exist at EITHER school, when I realize that it's 4:19 PM. This office lady STILL isn't ready AND my kids took the bus nearly an HOUR ago and they're probably sitting around outside, freaking out.

Then I recall that, no, we have that cool button-lock so they can get inside (which is true), so they're probably fine and CPS won't be waiting for me.

And I race to the car, just in case, and there's my phone so that I can call the house and check in on them.
I try to use speed dial and end up calling Oliver Sacks' voicemail, somehow. And I feel bad for hanging up right away, rationalizing that I'll redial THAT number later to wish him the best of luck with his brain cancer (which he DOES have IRL, but I don't have any direct contact info as much as I adore his writing).

Then, I can't get past this LONG, rambling voicemail from my stepdad where he's telling me (as I'm turning the corner by the I-Mart, down highway 99) about how he and Mom are sorry that I'm sick and they'll come bring me medicine/cough syrup tomorrow.

FINALLY, as I'm turning onto the ramp for I-5, I get through to the house number and Bruise answers and his voice is FULL of tears because he DIDN'T KNOW WHERE I WAS and, there's a three-way call with my mom, censuring me for being irresponsible ...

Oh ... actually there was ANOTHER dream stuck in there ... so THREE dreams total ...
Michael, I, and some other people were spying or something. And we had to go to this resort/club/thing. We'd leave the room after the dance performances (because then the dancers would do stripping ... and we're not into that). I don't remember who we were working for or what the goal of this reconnaissance mission was ... but, I ended up (to throw off suspicion), kissing a male dancer and going out to his car to talk. Yeah, I had to full-on kiss another guy in front of my husband. Awkward and not at all fun, really. (If I had been an unmarried woman, it would have been fine.)
I don't remember much more about that dream. Besides trying to apologize non-verbally to Michael while sucking another man's face, and trying to sell THAT to the dancer. (I haz conflictz az spy ... which is yet ANOTHER reason why I don't work in espionage. Can't lie. Don't have any desire for infidelity. Yeah, I'd be the worst spy ever. It's not like one can be, "Oh, I'd totally be throwing myself at you, sans clothing, but I JUST got out of a [mythological] relationship and you'd be my rebound." Because, really, I doubt that some Russian drug lord or whatever would be all, "Oh, you're so sensitive and vulnerable. I respect that. Here, let me tell you all my secrets." ... I mean, that'd be awesome if it worked. I could be the best spy ever (besides being unable to lie convincingly)!)

OKAY, so THIRD (and FINAL) dream!

In this one, I must have been back in high school or something (SOMETHING, thinking on it. Because I was worried that we couldn't find the appropriate technology, that's right) ... and we had a project in theater to do karaoke.
(Truly, it wouldn't have been too terribly off from some of our real-life projects. Just a simpler version of those, really.)

BUT, I was helping my Roxy-sis to have a song and music. And, for some reason, I had a karaoke cassette that had some tracks on it. And she was going to sing Coolio's "Gangster Paradise."
Yeah. Not really her type of song, especially while we were in high school.

So, I was making sure that I had the cassette ready for her, all rewound ... and it got caught a little in the player, so I had to CAREFULLY remove the tape from the player and grab a pencil to wind it all back in JUST SO ...

And I worried that we might not have a cassette player at the school for her to use ...

And then I was trying to go through whatever instrumental CDs we had so that I could choose some song to sing ... and trying not to freak out because I couldn't use the cassette, since I didn't know any of the other (rap) songs on there and I didn't have any other karaoke tapes ...
(Which, IRL, I had ONE karaoke tape. We didn't have a karaoke machine or anything, but I had ONE karaoke tape ... of some of the songs from Les Miserables. Yeah, I was THAT KID in middle school. Is it any wonder that I was NOT in the cool-kid bunch? ... Yup, I really don't miss the social scene in middle school. I miss a handful of people (mostly teachers, really. Again, THAT KID).)

But, yup. That's about what all went on in my dreams -- being a crap, disorganized mother; being an apologetic spy who won't watch strippers; and making sure that my friend is taken care of ... so that I can run about like a muppet when it's time for me to cover my bases.

I'm sure this all means something ... and not just (as in that spy dream) that I should get a feminine-cut suit ... though I did cut a nice figure in it.

My brain is a strange place.

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