August 27, 2009 by skwishface
I’ve been getting alot of sleep lately. The Girl has finally come to the same conclusion as most sane folk, and realized that the wee hours of the morning are not meant to be witnessed by waking eyes. She’s slept the whole night through for three nights in a row. I don’t know what to do with all this rest. It’s like I’ve been walking around with a blanket over my head for the past five months and suddenly it’s been whisked away and OMG BRIGHT LIGHT.
Apparently my mind’s eye agrees. I’ve been having some really vivid and odd dreams the past few nights. My dreams don’t always stick with me, but I can’t seem to shake these.
I dreamed that I was going back to college to get my Master’s degree. But I had to live in the dorms, and the only dorm with space available was an all-girls hellpit of estrogen-fueled neuroses. I spent the whole dream trying to sneak my husband and my son into this dorm, because where else would they live? Apparently in this dream, we did not own a house. The schemes to sneak them in were really elaborate, ranging from lying and swindling a girl into switching rooms with me because her room was on the ground floor and I could sneak menfolk in through the window, to potty-training my son to pee sitting down so that if anybody looked under the bathroom stall door of our girls-only community bathrooms they wouldn’t see the telltale toilet-facing feet of a boy. Like the fact that his feet are preschooler-sized and clad in Transformers light-up shoes wouldn’t be suspicious. Ultimately, I woke up before I could even get settled in, let alone graduate with my Master’s.
There’s this house a couple of miles from mine that’s been standing vacant for well over a year. It’s a smallish house on a big wide-open piece of land with a very dated look. Like maybe it was built in the late 60’s-early 70’s. Apparently the sprinkler system was installed rather carelessly, because the exterior walls of the house are covered with random fan-shaped rust patterns. It’s generally sad and full of unrealized potential, and I’ve often pondered what it could be if someone just took the time and money to fix it up. Apparently I took this idea to bed with me, because I dreamed that The Husband and I bought it. In the process of fixing it up, I had to roam around the inside and spray for bugs. I had my big bucket of bug spray with the pump handle and the long-handled wand thingy. While opening cabinets and squirting poison around, suddenly the world went all wonky and I teleported into another house entirely. I teleported. My clothes did not. Nude and armed only with bug spray, I had to find my way out of this house. It never occured to me to check a closet and get some clothes. One of the rooms had a little (like 2 foot tall) old lady asleep in it, and she was NOT happy to see me. Her indignant shrieks woke me up.
Never watch MSNBC before bed. You may end up dreaming, as I did, that President Obama wanted to kick it Henry V style and walk amongst the common folk disguised as one of us in the hopes of better understanding the temperament of his people. He’d discovered the ability to transplant his consciousness into a red-haired middle-aged white woman, which was the perfect disguise because who would ever suspect? The Husband and I, that’s who. And some mysterious masked Bad Guys. We figured out this random woman was the President incognito, and that he was being hunted by Bad Guys, so we took it upon ourselves to protect him. We were on the run, dodging ninja-like attacks and generally being badasses. At one point, there was a lull in the violence so we all went out for coffee. I was about to pay for the President’s coffee when he put his pale, well-manicured hand on mine to stop me. “Let me be clear,” he said in a ladyvoice, “You’re saving my life. The least I can do is buy your coffee.” “But sir,” I replied to her, “Your paycheck comes out of my tax dollars. So really, either way, I’d be buying my own coffee and yours.” Then it turned out the barrista was a ninja and we had to run again.