Dream Journal #16

I can’t recall much. I must’ve slept hard.

The only thing I do recall is traveling to visit a friend who I haven’t seen in a few years. She was the star of some huge Broadway type show, and her mother and boyfriend were going. But then at the last minute, her boyfriend didn’t show up, which essentially meant that he was breaking up with her.

The rest of my dream involved comforting her, and talking to her mom.

Somewhere in my dream, I was searching my purse for the correct cell phone to use so I could call home to let people know I wouldn’t be home for a few more days. Having multiple cell phones is a pain. You never know who is calling which one, and it’s easy to forget which one has the minimal data plan. Oops.

Dream Journal #14

I’m so glad I decided to jot these dreams down early this morning. I would have completely forgotten most of the details.

Somewhere in my REM cycle, I was applying for a job. A nearby relative drove me into the city so I could turn it in. When we arrived at the building, there was a huge meeting going on, and I was supposed to meet with someone to attend it. I assumed it was my future manager. Come to find out, it was an orientation of sorts.

The building was enormous, and it took forever to find the correct conference room, which we were told that it isn’t anywhere near Melinda’s office. For some reason, whenever I have dreams about work or school, Melinda (my former office manager at a real job I had) and her office are always a part of those dreams. Except her office always looks like a DJ’s booth at a radio station.

Me and future manager were on our way to the north end of the campus, where there were hundreds of people. Secretaries were handing out post-it note name tags, and caterers were putting donuts at every place setting. There were no pens, so I had to borrow one, which earned me a stern look from all of the secretaries, because I was unprepared.

After slapping on my name tag, I noticed that there were stock car races going on outside, and I couldn’t wait for this meeting to be done.

When the company CEO finally emerged from under (YES, under!) his head table, he lectured about safety, insurance, and liability, and how it affects the company’s profitability. Following his lecture, we were instructed to play a video game, which demonstrated the differences between safe driving and reckless drag racing.

Afterwards, I was picked up and driven into Niagara Falls to meet my parents for dinner. When I arrived, they had already started eating without me. I remember feeling dejected and pissed off, so I ordered a pizza and sat by myself in a corner.

Then the Golden Girls walked in and ordered food. They were on break from filming, and wanted a ton of fried chicken and pizza for the rest of the filming crew. When they found out that I was eating the last pizza in the place, Rose got pissed and started flinging her chicken everywhere – imagine Betty White throwing fried chicken all over the place. But most of it wound up on the floor in front of her.

Once everything was cleaned up, I left to rent an SUV to drive to my parents’ house. They left the damn restaurant without me. When I arrived, there were pets waiting for me, and they needed to go outside. The dog got free of his leash and ran down the road to the next house.

When I finally came back after chasing him down, my dad was waiting outside with a shovel. It was winter, but the snow was sand, and it wasn’t cold. It was night time as well, but the sky was weird with a yellowish orange hue, and the stars were struggling to stay bright.

High rows and columns of clouds were slowly drifting over the town, and as I waited for them to pass, I got my cell phone ready to take a picture of the stars against the weird orange sky. But it was taking forever.

So, I went to my friend’s house next door. But she wasn’t home. Her brother and sister were, but they were asleep. My friend was apparently at the hospital getting her teeth fixed because they were making her sick. So I went back home to Dad, where he was still outside holding his shovel, and staring at the weird sky.

Now that the clouds finally passed, I got my cell phone out. But now I couldn’t get the right camera angle. So we went inside the garage, where supplies for a party and a garage sale were being set up. Mom was sleeping, and Dad told me to be quiet if I wanted a beer because they had to get up early to go to the flea market in the morning.

And then my bladder woke me up. Thank goodness not too early, because today is a sleep in day.

PS: My office manager’s name was changed to protect her identity.

Dream Journal #13

My favorite number! … My mother is turning in her grave. She hated that number. It was bad luck for her.

Speaking of 13, I was 13 in my dreams last night. It was weird because I had an older person’s body. I was back in school, under the scrutiny of a very bitter 8th grade teacher. I’m pretty sure I was sweating in my sleep, because when I woke up briefly to turn on my other side, my hair was damp and my heart was pounding. Bad memories haunting my subconscious, I guess.

When I went back to sleep, I immediately aged, and had another child, who looked just like my now 20 year old daughter did when she was a baby. We were back in our old home, and I was getting ready to take her for a walk in her stroller. Unlike my daughter when she was a baby, this baby in my dreams was full of laughter and smiles.

On my walk, I wound up at school again. The baby was with me still, and I was looking for the gymnasium. I think there was a competition. But I never made it because I accidentally slammed into another mother with a baby in her stroller. After a brief altercation, I left, and drove to the department of motor vehicles to renew my driver’s license.

UGH

I think this next part has to do with an article I read about Erie County New York possibly requiring a blood pressure test at the DMV. When I read this, I swear to God smoke billowed out of my ears. I know America is unhealthy, but there needs to be limits on where and when our health is monitored.

Before I start ranting about big brother, I need to talk about this trip to the DMV. They screened my vision, which is the part I hate, because I have problems with my eyes, which I don’t want to address because if I need to have anything done to my eyes to save my vision, I’m going to lose my marbles completely. Just stick me in the mental ward, because I’ll have permanent severe ptsd if I need to have any surgery on my eyes. I’ll be like one of those soldiers who saw shit in the Vietnam war.

But then the vision screening turned into a sales pitch and an attempt to collect on all of my horrendous medical debts. I signed my life away – again – and promised to pay for my new glasses in monthly installments. The lady at the vision center / DMV promised to come and take my eyesight away if I missed a payment.

JESUS H CHRIST … Time to wake the f*ck up!

Dream Journal #12

I died last night. Not literally. But, after a stressful walk up a few icy steps, my nerves were dead, and I needed a drink. And then I fell into the soul sucking depths of my recliner once again – before 7 pm. I don’t know whether it’s the chair, or the ASMR knocking me into next week, but it seems that is when I get good sleep. Until I stumble off to my bed, where the old mattress wrecks my back and my crappy pillow makes my arthritic neck even worse come morning.

I hate long paragraphs.

Last night’s dreams were slightly whacked. But that’s par for the course with me. I had a lot of dreams, most of which I cannot recall. What little I do recall is a variation of other similar dreams I’ve had in the past.

I was at my aunt and uncle’s house in New Jersey. Except they weren’t in New Jersey. They were in some other … land … that could not be found on any map, or via GPS. But, we were there. Except for my aunt, I didn’t know anyone else.

The house was set on a beach, and the back yard was a freaking forest, which nobody was allowed to go into, because you risked your life if you did. So, the women stayed in the house, cooking enough food for an army. I kept asking why so much food, but nobody would answer. My aunt just kept pointing out the window at all the people in the back yard.

Okay. So, it’s a party. Time to get to work.

I couldn’t find a certain dish in the kitchen, so my aunt pointed toward her second kitchen on the other end of her massive house. Just how big is this damn house? Here we go, hunting down some dish in a suddenly quiet mansion, where the furniture had plastic on it, and strange music was playing in the distance. I hate this kind of dream.

It was getting darker outside, and the more I searched for this damn dish, the more the house became creepy. I remember having a strong sense of foreboding as I opened door after door, trying to even find the second kitchen.

Cooking and dish quickly forgotten, I found other rooms and strange cries could be heard. A voice in my head told me not to seek out the source of the cries. Well, shit. Of course I’m going to search! That’s what I do in my dreams. I just want the damn dish, and to find a bathroom all of a sudden.

Most of the time, when I’m searching for bathrooms in my dreams, the stalls almost always have doors that are too high, and everyone can see me peeing. That, and the toilets always fucking over flow. It’s getting ridiculous. Someone isn’t doing their job, and needs to be fired. Why is this always the case? It’s GROSS!

Anyways, after I endured snickers and wolf whistles, I pulled up my pants, and continued searching.

I found a huge winding staircase – which is never good, either – and worked my way into a grand library that overlooked the entire house. The books were on the damn ceiling, and for some reason, I didn’t find it at all strange. What was strange was the fact that there were now some kind of auditions going on below, and I couldn’t get back down to speak to any of the celebrity judges.

Instead, another stairwell appeared in the ceiling. How the hell do I get to THAT?! It wasn’t difficult. I just had to will myself there, and poof! I was opening another fucking door. I hate doors. They bother me tremendously.

Now the crying is even stronger, but with a hint of giggling. WTF????? Who is that? The voice in my head once again tells me to not go in. There’s apparently a tortured soul in there, bound by enchanted chains, and if anyone goes in there, she’ll go all GRUDGE on you, and then you’re dead.

Thankfully she didn’t get me. Instead, I finally found my way back into the first kitchen, where everyone was once again cooking, and pouring drinks. By this point, I was a wreck and needed a beer. But the only beer in the fridge were the gigantic Corona Extra bottles my other uncle had brought with him from out of town. That, and his gin and tonic. YUCK. I’ll take that huge beer, thanks.

And that was it, because now, it was 9:00 a.m., and I slept WAY too long. IT’S ABOUT TIME!!! I may not have liked those dreams, but I really needed that sleep. But now I’m tired from sleeping too much.

Time for a pot of coffee.

Dream Journal #11

Finally, dreams worth talking about.

Last night’s dreams (in the early morning hours, of course) were once again set at my parents’ house.  It’s getting old.  Yes, I’m homesick.  Can you tell?  We moved out of state 9 years ago, and I’ve been depressed ever since.  I have no friends, and I don’t easily make friends, because I’m a weirdo with boisterous laughter and an inappropriate/sick sense of humor.  And, I’m half deaf, so I talk loud, and it’s offensive to many folks.  And no, I can’t get hearing aids because under our new affordable care act insurance, I can’t even afford to go to the regular doctor anymore.

I hate long paragraphs.  They make me more anxious.

So, my dream involved more cleaning out of crap.  My parents were organized hoarders.  When my mom bought things like wrapping paper, she bought enough for 10 years.  And then she bought more the following year.  You get the idea.

In my dream, I found a secret cubby hole in second story ceiling behind some invisible panel, between my bedroom and the extra bedroom – which we lovingly called the sewing room.  My mom had an amazing sewing machine upstairs.  The sewing room also served as a storage place for extra crap, like holiday decorations, and the damn wrapping paper.  I even brought some home irl when we cleaned out the house after my father passed away.  Those rolls will last me 10 years – and I’ll probably buy more come next Christmas.

The secret cubby hole not only had all this hidden wrapping paper, but there was also a wad of twenty dollar bills, which wound up totaling around $400.  But when we counted it, we had to call a banker in, because the amount kept changing every time.  The banker happened to be Bill Pullman.  I know, weird.  Even more weird was when he told us the amount kept changing because the jerk down the road was making improvements on his house, so our property taxes kept fluctuating.  HUH???

Bathroom break and a phone call from the school to tell me we have another calamity day, I crawl back in bed, sinking into the type of dream I was kind of aiming for.  All it took was a little focusing and ‘mind travel‘ before I drifted back into dream land.

A distant friend was in town, and a bunch of people were at some party.  I was bartending as music played in the background.  For some reason, I had to go home and get something I forgot.  When I got there, my brother was there, along with my friend.  I think they were there getting more equipment for the party.

Then my cousin, who is known for his yearly party, showed up to help me finish whatever I was doing.  Here’s the weird part.  I asked if he was going back, and his words were “Yeah, but not without you.  What’s a party without at least one dance with my cousin?” ….. EWW!  Dude, I know you’re a perv, but that is beyond perv.

When my brother heard that, he threw my cousin out of the house.  But then my brother was bugging me about my guitar and violin, asking what strings I needed.  And that’s when I finally see my friend lurking behind him, listening to the conversation … like almost hiding?  Okayyyyyyy, whatever that meant.  When I said “Go back to the party without me” because I was livid by that point, I went downstairs into the living room.

All was nice and quiet, except for a squawking parakeet, which my dad (who was suddenly there) insisted it was some other kind of non-speaking bird.  Other people who I didn’t know were sitting in the living room watching television – on mute.  Something wasn’t working right, and we were then messing with the cable and receiver to get the correct channels and sound levels.

Meanwhile, the damn bird is on top of the television yapping at me.  He looked just like my old bird which I had about 17 years ago.  He kept saying something in Spanish, so I decided to teach it English, and said “Hi pretty bird!”, like I used to say to my old bird.

My dream ended with me snorting awake with laughter when the little bastard said “Hi jackass!”.

Maybe I’ll take something tonight, so I have less vivid dreams.

Dream Journal #8

I hate dreams about school.  But, I’m guessing it happened because my daughter left to go back to college yesterday.

At least this dream wasn’t as bad as my usual.  I even had the right schedule.  Except I couldn’t find my classes, and their whereabouts were apparently classified, and I couldn’t find any school officials to help me get to my classes.  So, I found the student union to go eat my sorrows away.

Except I only had $4.00 in my pocket, and meals were $25, and I was pissed because all of my friends had gigantic trays of steaming hot food in front of them.  When I finally decided to get a rotten apple from a nearby vending machine, I sat with a couple of my friends to talk to them.  Except they wouldn’t talk to me.  They were busy stuffing their faces with yummy food that I didn’t have money for!  Jerks.

Then I couldn’t unlock my dorm.  My roommate had the deadbolt on because I left my clothes on the bed.  I decided enough was enough, and kicked the door open, only to find her and her boyfriend using my bed for the horizontal mambo.  Jerks!

So, I went home,  to my parents’ house, where my brothers had also moved back in, and they were in my room!  Well, it was their room originally, until they moved out.  Before I knew what hit me, they were torturing me.  And when I say torture, I mean like they used to when I was little.  Tickling me.  Scaring me.  Making me cry.  Jerks!

So, I took one of their cars and went back to college.  Except college wasn’t college anymore.  It was my damn job, and they wanted me to live there, doing things like cooking, cleaning, and answering phones for them.  Excuse me, I do that at home.  “Well, this is your new home, because we bought your old house, and you can’t ever go back.”  JERKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And then my phone woke me up.  Save by the bell!  Time for coffee.

Dream Journal #7

I’m late.  But there’s a reason, which I won’t elaborate on.

Last night’s dreams involved trying to get an ice cream cone.  The lady serving me kept getting it wrong.  When an experienced employee finally took over, she proceeded to shove a spoon into my ice cream to make sure it tasted okay.  EWW

Well, thanks lady.  Now that your germs are in my cone, I don’t want it.  Give me a new cone, with different ice cream.  “Well if you want a new one, you need to go around to the other side of the building”.  UGH!  Alright.  But only because I want my damn ice cream.

Meanwhile, as I’m working my way around this insanely long ass building, I encounter people who are trying to sabotage my brand new truck!  One guy gave me the wrong parts, and another guy tried stealing my clothes and groceries out of the truck.  DUDE!  I just want my fucking ice cream.  Leave my shit alone and let me get to the other side of the building!

Nope.  They gotta go and mess with me, and make my truck so it doesn’t work.  Assholes.

And when I finally make it to the counter where they have the ice cream that I want, it’s midnight, and of course they’re CLOSED.  So, I have to find a hotel, in the middle of nowhere.  People won’t help me with directions, so I get lost, and wind up in Canada, where they arrest me for trying to bring illegal ice cream (which I totally don’t have!!!) across the border.

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ABOUT???  I’m so relieved I woke up from that nightmare.  But after I went to the bathroom, I just had to go back to sleep, just to find myself on the shore of some weird dried out lake, where my family reunion was being held, and people were mad at me for some reason, and they wouldn’t give me any food.  So, I went home, only to find out my house was for sale!

I think I’m not sleeping tonight.  I don’t want a repeat of last night’s dreams.

Dream Journal #5

Before I forget …

Let me begin by saying that I’m low key pissed that I’ve been awake since 6 a.m.  My son has a day off, and I could be sleeping in.  But nooooo.  My stupid kidneys just couldn’t behave.

I don’t know why some of my dreams are so whacked.  Once again, I vaguely remember some of my dream.  The rest was pretty vivid.  I’m sure it had something to do with my bladder.

The vague part involved rearranging my room (at my parents’ house again).  My dad and uncle were outside on the driveway, getting ready to have a garage sale.  When it was dark, for some weird reason, they decided to scale the outside wall to get into the house via my 2nd story bedroom window.  When I was done with my room, I went downstairs, and it was Christmas all over again.

VERY vague was some weird ass shit about being in a forest, near a parking lot.  The trees were ginormous, and filled with scary invisible creatures, which were to be avoided at all costs.  Of course the ground was fucking quicksand, and I had no choice but to climb a stupid tree.  And then I got attacked by whatever was in that damned tree!

Somehow I sprouted wings, and took off for a nearby lake, where the water was red, and the only boat available was a blowup river raft.  And my uncle was in it, waiting for me with a life jacket.  I don’t know why, but we were headed to Canada, and on the way across the lake, we passed Tokyo, and I kept screaming at my uncle to stop because I wanted to visit a Pokemon/anime store.

Jump cut to me being at the doctor’s office, crying because my systolic blood pressure was over 800!  It didn’t matter that whenever I took my blood pressure it was normal.  The doctor’s machines all said that I was having a stroke.

Time to get back to losing weight, and being miserable because I can’t eat the things I love and am allergic to.

Dream Journal #3

I’m beginning to feel like a freak. Well, my husband says I’m not normal. I know I’m not normal in many ways, but to tell me it’s not normal to recall dreams is making my anxiety a lot worse than in already is.

Anyone who personally knows me, knows I sleep like crap. I’m up and down constantly, shifting frequently to relieve my achy back, shoulders, and hips – in between sitting up to check if hubby is still breathing. Let’s not forget the once a night bathroom trip if I don’t go right before I hit the pillow.

When I talk about dream recall, I can tell you very vivid dreams from 10+ years ago. Even some dreams I used to have as a child. I always thought this is common. Apparently not.

So …. I have a new appointment for a neurology sleep consult. My cardiologist ordered it because I was diagnosed with severe obstructive sleep apnea, and he thinks my machine isn’t the correct one, which is screwing with my sleep. I can’t stress enough how important it is to have the correct machine. I cannot exhale with it on. And now, I have issues with breathing through my nose due to year round allergies from hell. So, I need a full face mask, and a machine that has auto titration.

But that’s not why I’m being referred to a neurologist. I guess there are several specialists who treat spleep apnea.  I used to see a pulmonary specialist.  But now, it’s time to see a neurologist.  The cardiologist didn’t like my description of my nightly dreams.  UGH!  Just leave me alone.  I’m sick of all the ‘ologists’.  My regular doctor and cardiologist are quite enough, thank you very much.

AND, I’M BROKE – IN THE RED.  …no thanks to Obama care and the insane shit it allows the medical industry to get away with.  But I’m not here to get political.

On with last night’s dreams.  Which is what I set out to do in the first place, until my husband started his routine I have a medical anomaly for a wife spiel.  …. I wonder why I’m depressed…

Last night’s dream recall is pretty borken (damn you, Bloggess! I actually typed that by accident).

The first part I remember is wandering some random streets in downtown Niagara Falls, New York.  I was on Pine Ave., but it didn’t look like Pine Ave.  HOWEVER, Pine Ave. always looks the same in my dreams – filled with cool shops for the tourists.  I passed a nice book store (there’s an adult bookstore on 19th street, just off Pine Ave FOR REAL).  Then there was a women’s clothing store.  They didn’t have anything nice that fit me, so I left.

Next was a pizzeria.  It was closed.  Of course!  Because I was hungry, dammit!  So, I headed to the tattoo place.  And of course I didn’t have enough money for the tattoo I want, so I tried bargaining with a female artist, and she threw me out.  Crap.

Then I was suddenly back in college, getting yelled at for skipping classes – something I did a lot of in my last semester, because hell, I was graduating with a 3.4 average anyways, so I could get away with it!  I think I have that dream frequently because it’s my guilty conscience working on me.

I swear some of the things I dream are my sins coming back to haunt me.

The next dreams I had happened when I went back to sleep after my son got on the bus. I TOLD you I do that! It’s cold AF outside. Do you honestly think I’m going to just bounce around my house at 7 o’clock in the morning, doing housework?

Anyways, I think I’m suffering from screen overload. Or maybe over-stimulation, period.

I was at some variety show that was being televised. There were a bunch of YouTubers there, including some of my favorites. And of course, I got challenged to a 7 second sake challenge. I’m thinking this dream happened because I had sake the other day, and I managed to hold on for about 4 seconds. Our chef took delight in watching the rest dribble into my cleavage. Bastard…

In the end, I won the damn challenge in my dream, and I got to sit with these two squishy dorks for the rest of the show.

…only to be recorded by them for their next video… YES, I was doing stupid things for the rest of my dream – all for that damn 7 second challenge.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some nutrition, caffeine, and a lobotomy.

Throw Away The Key

If I get old and lose my mind – or simply if I lose my mind – just lock me up and throw away the key.  Don’t let me keep dead pets in the freezer.  It’s unsanitary.  And no, I won’t think you’re being insensitive if you think it’s bizarre that I even want to keep dead animals in the freezer.

WAIT.  I know someone who might do that.  And she’s sane!  Jenny!  Where are you?  Do you have a dead bird in the freezer by some chance?

Seriously though.  This is no laughing matter.  Well, it was at first when I heard about it.  I mean, who does that kind of shit, and posts publicly about it for the world to see?  Apparently people with dementia and other mental disorders might.  They do all sorts of shocking things that people might not realize.

It’s quite sad when you think about it.  For about a year, before my father passed away, we kind of knew his mind was going a little bit.  He’d say some some really inappropriate and strange things.  But we just laughed it off.  He was 80 years old, for fuck sake!  He earned the right to do and say weird shit.

But considering the nature of the internet, and the variety of personalities posting and sharing, it’s difficult to tell what is real, fake, serious, a joke, or outright whacked.  There are some seriously fucked up people out there.  And then there are those who like to post shit just to get a reaction out of others – to see how far a post will go in the comments section.

…like one ‘father’ who posted that he walked in on his 10 year old “beating his meat like it owed him money”… THAT post escalated so quickly that the admin removed it within 10 minutes.

What would you think if you saw a vague post about someone putting dead animals in the freezer, without any other solid information?  You’d think it was a shit post, right?

This was my personal favorite

…but then the butt hurt people came out of the woodwork…

Oh well.  Damn me to hell.