Famous last words…
As much as I hate to share this particular dream sequence, it’s a must. Simply because it’s seriously paranoid. And, I haven’t had any recent dream recall to really share. Until today.
Last night I died slightly early. Early for even me. I don’t mean literally dead. Although sometimes I wonder if dead would be easier.
After a few quick shots of whiskey to stop my coughing fit, dinner was a blur, and I proceeded to fall into the depths of sleep in my recliner, as I stuffed my earbuds in for some much needed ASMR. I don’t usually slam alcohol. I’m a sipper. Otherwise I won’t remember anything the next day. But luckily I recall a few deets for a brief entry.
Upon waking at 1:30 a.m., I stumbled off to bed – after chugging 20 ounces of ice cold water – and proceeded to wake up as I tossed and turned until 4:30. Restless legs and extreme thirst from a nasty hangover suck. So do dreams of drinking gallons of water and Gatorade, which took place in my chair before I actually went to bed.
When Kevin left at 4:30, I got up for another bottle of water, chugged half of it, went to the bathroom, walked off the creepy crawlies in my stupid legs, and stumbled back to bed – still fully clothed in yesterday’s clothes, which I’m still wearing. EW.
I immediately went into some Twilight Zone-ish bizarro dreams, where I thought I was awake (Inception?), and proceeded to sit up (in my dream … I think) and kept calling Kevin’s name, hoping he hadn’t left for work yet. But when he didn’t come into the bedroom, I resumed my position under my comfortable fluff – a down comforter that sucks you further into dream land than necessary – and continued with paranoid dreams – in my dream.
I’m never watching Inception again.
Then I was rudely awaken (or is it awoken? … I’m still hungover. Shoot me.) by some scary dude pounding on my bedroom window, prompting me to call the cops. And then there were lights within seconds. How the hell did the cops get here that quickly? Whatever the case, I was still on the phone with 911, telling them how people were trying to get into my house in the middle of the night.
Then, when dispatch said the situation was taken care of, I left the safety of my room, only to discover thieves had somehow gotten in anyway, and took all of our damn furniture! Well, we need new furniture irl, so I wasn’t that heartbroken. Until Kevin came home with an enormous fish tank in his arms.
“BUT WE NEED FURNITURE! Not a fish tank!” I screamed, glaring at the obnoxiously huge fish tank as he set it up. Except it didn’t have fish in it. He brought home fucking snakes. And they were all hissing.
And that’s when my alarm went off. Thank God, because I probably would’ve started screaming irl at any moment, this point in my horrific dream.
Even though my son had gotten on the bus, no matter how hard I tried, there was no going back to sleep. Not when my husband brought snakes into the house…